backward with a yell. The change was sudden, not like in those horror movies with sprouting fur and fangs and a cracking of bones. One moment Chon-ji was there and the next, a tiger was in her place.
She chuffed at him gently and extended a large paw toward him, her head bowed. She was a small tiger, perhaps 150 kilograms, but she still dwarfed the room. His apartment suddenly seemed as cramped as she'd said. His furniture and possessions took on a surreal quality, his brain struggling to process the image of a wild animal in such a familiar and normal setting.
Her fur matched her human hair, a pale orange-gold coat, with rich brown stripes. He reached out with a trembling hand to reassure himself that he wasn't hallucinating. Her fur was thick, wiry and warm. He bunched her coat up in his fingers and ran them along her neck. She purred, a deep rumble of pleasure. She nudged him with her head and he looked into her gold eyes.
She was still Chon-ji—the real Chon-ji.
She licked his face with her rough flat tongue.
"How...?" he murmured.
She was a woman again. She was on all fours, his arm around her shoulders. He didn't know what to say. They just looked at each other, huddling together on the floor.
He glanced at the clock and nodded.
"You'd better get dressed. We have three hours before the zoo opens. If we leave now, I can get you in before the other zookeepers arrive for work."
"Thank you," she said.
Bong-hwa looked around the room. Even though Chon-ji was back to being a five-foot-three woman, the room still appeared to be too small to contain her, or the idea of her. His whole world seemed much smaller and all the things he thought he'd cared about were just clutter now.
He'd always wanted to help the tigers, but he'd satisfied himself with this life, the one he'd been told he should live, instead of doing something real . Now he had another chance.
Bong-hwa watched Chon-ji dress, remembering the feel of her fur and her skin and confusing the two.
*
An hour before opening, Seoul Grand Park was alive with the sound of waking animals throughout the grounds.
Bong-hwa had barely spoken a word since they left his apartment. Being in public with Chon-ji, on the subway to Gwacheon, made the events of the morning seem distant and unbelievable.
"It wasn't a trick," Chon-ji whispered.
"I know," he said.
He slipped his hand into hers.
Bong-hwa brought her to the indoor plexiglass cage they used for close-up demonstrations. It connected to the outer tiger habitat through a rectangular opening four feet above the floor. Tigers could come and go as they pleased.
They did nearly everything as they pleased.
"Oraboni!" Chon-ji shouted. "I'm here!"
A tiger roared in response, followed by a chorus of roars from other tigers all around the enclosure. It went on forever. Bong-hwa clapped his hands to his ears, his scalp tingling at the sound.
A shadow soon obscured the entrance. Kaesong dropped gracefully into the cage. Bong-hwa felt the vibration as the tiger's weight hit the floor.
Kaesong padded toward them slowly, his tail high and swaying back and forth like a metronome. He chuffed as he faced Chon-ji on the other side of the glass. Bong-hwa felt exposed, even with the clear boundary separating them.
Chon-ji pressed her palm against the transparent barrier. "I came back for you, brother. I'm so sorry for what happened."
Kaesong roared. Chon-ji flinched.
"Leave him out of it," she said.
"What's going on?" Bong-hwa asked.
She silenced him impatiently with a wave of her hand.
Kaesong shook his head and turned away. Bong-hwa wondered if the animal really understood what Chon-ji was saying.
"It was my choice, brother, as it always was. I don't regret that," Chon-ji said. "Times have changed, but we must survive. It isn't only about you or me, it's about our entire race."
Kaesong growled and walked away from the glass wall.
"You have to leave here with us," Chon-ji said.
"I don't think he's interested,"