There was a strange, unsettling feeling, like something important had slipped right through his fingers. A persistent sense of unease scraped at the bottom of his chest, clawing with a quiet, gnawing tension.
But that strange sensation didn’t last long.
“Kyahhh!”
“Ah! I’m sorry!”
It was Diana’s hand—she couldn’t resist grabbing his butt. He jumped on the spot and immediately shot her a wary glare.
“You just looked so soft and round… I couldn’t help myself. Strawberry, your butt’s really sensitive, huh? I won’t touch it again, promise. Will you forgive me?”
Diana’s eyes drooped like a scolded puppy caught in the rain. His heart almost gave in… almost. But no. He was already desperate to escape this petting hell.
Unfortunately, Diana had a killer instinct when it came to negotiations. She slowly held out her hand.
“Here. I’ll give you this—how about cheering up now?”
“…!”
Dangling delicately from her pale fingertips was a ripe, luscious strawberry. The fruit. He immediately sat up straight.
Come to think of it, since waking up in this unfamiliar place, in a body that wasn’t his own, he hadn’t eaten a single thing. Realizing that, a wave of hunger hit him like a gut punch—his stomach practically glued to his spine.
He didn’t waste a second wondering if cats could eat strawberries. Without hesitation, he lunged for Diana’s hand and took a big, satisfying bite.
His fluffy tail quivered, and a purr rumbled naturally from deep in his throat.
So good…!
The fruit served to the Marquess really was on another level—so sweet it made every other fruit he’d ever tasted seem like a joke.
“Aww, you’re so cute.”
No sooner had he devoured the first than Diana offered him another. The tangy sweetness burst in his mouth, seeds popping delightfully on his tongue, flooding him with a bliss he hadn’t felt in ages.
All his discomfort and suspicion melted away like snow in the sun. She had to be an angel.
After finishing a second, he headbutted her palm and rubbed against it. More. I want more. Diana giggled and gave in to his greedy little demands.
“Were you that hungry? Here, have some more.”
“Myaang.”
One, two, three… he kept going until seven strawberries had disappeared into his belly. Not that he stopped on his own. He was cut off.
“Diana. Too much fruit isn’t good for him. You should stop now.”
“Oh… I already gave him seven… do you think he’ll be okay?”
“He should be fine.”
He definitely could’ve eaten more. Smacking his lips, he looked up at Diana with big, round eyes, but she was already distracted.
“And also…”
Chesif laced his fingers with hers in a smooth, fluid motion. Diana’s cheeks flushed red.
“I wish you’d pay a little more attention to me, too.”
“…Are you jealous of Strawberry right now?”
“Yes.”
“……”
Welp. That’s the end of that. Strawberry gave up without complaint and started licking around his mouth, savoring the lingering taste.
***
Diana left, saying she had evening prayers, and the cat had been taken away by a maid long ago. Left alone, Chesif ran a hand through his hair.
“Not bad.”
Today had gone unusually well. Diana, who always danced on the edge without ever stepping over the line, hadn’t pulled away this time. She hadn’t left early either. That alone was a significant step forward.
Maybe next time he could invite her to dinner. She’d looked reluctant to leave—maybe she’d accept.
Everything was progressing smoothly. Just as a confident smile tugged at his lips—
“……”
He noticed a yellow strand of fur clinging to the edge of his sleeve. The smile instantly vanished.
Chesif stood and inspected himself. Not just the sleeve—his entire outfit was covered in fur. And on black clothes, every strand stood out like a spotlight.
It wasn’t just the clothes either. The sofa. The floor. The carpet. The entire room was blanketed in cat hair.
Goddamn it. This was exactly why he hated animals. Chesif clenched his jaw and rang the bell, hard.
***
“Here, your food.”
A bowl clattered to the floor, filled to the brim with leftovers—scraps of limp vegetables, chunks of roughly chopped meat, crushed bits of stew, and soggy bread all slopped together into a single, unappetizing mess. A hand slipped it through the barely cracked door, then yanked back in a flash.
Thunk. The door slammed shut like a guillotine.
“Ugh, such a hassle. Do we really have to go this far?”
“No choice. Remember what happened last time? It bolted during feeding and turned the whole house upside down. Broke the decorations, shattered pots—total chaos.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I thought I was gonna drop dead cleaning that up.”
Their voices faded beyond the door. Left alone in the dark room, the cat—now named Strawberry—stared down at the bowl with a complicated expression.
“…….”
It looked like garbage. Literal food waste. The kind of slop someone tossed together from whatever they couldn’t finish.
He shoved his face in. It wasn’t about taste. Obviously, it wasn’t good. The flavors clashed with all sorts of conflicting seasonings—it was neither here nor there. Just plain awful.
But still.
If I want to live, I have to eat.
It had been… about a month, give or take, since he ended up trapped in this cat’s body. Hard to tell exactly—he slept so much now that day and night blurred together—but it had to be around that long.
Apparently, in this medieval backwater, people had zero respect for cats. All they ever gave him was leftover scraps once a day—if they remembered.
Sometimes they forgot. Entire days would go by with nothing. If luck was really bad, two days without food.
So eventually, just being given anything edible started to feel like a blessing. Occasionally, the mix would be surprisingly decent. Rare, but not impossible.
He’d long since given up wondering if any of this was safe for a cat’s digestion.
Is this what they call a transmigrator’s perk?
He didn’t even get sick after scarfing down those strawberries. Maybe it was a bonus. A ridiculous, barely useful one that didn’t even make him laugh.
His stomach filled quickly. He nudged the bowl away, then licked his paw and wiped his mouth. A few swipes of his tongue across his scruffy foreleg, and voilà—clean.
At this point, he’d gotten used to the cat body. Grooming didn’t feel awkward anymore. He kept at it until satisfied, then collapsed onto the floor.
Dust puffed up around him. Achoo. He sneezed automatically, then lazily scratched at the dirty floor with his paw.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to escape before. Just like the maids had said—he’d failed. Spectacularly.
This damn mansion is way too big.
After a week locked in this glorified storage room eating slop once a day, he’d hit his limit and made a break for it.
He got lost in the maze-like hallways, broke a couple of flowerpots, and got smacked with a broom before being caught. Just remembering it made his fur bristle.
Since then, he’d been stuck here. Even feeding time looked like this—just a quick hand-through-the-door delivery before it slammed shut again. The only time he saw light was when Diana came.
Would it kill them to put in a window?
The room had no windows—just walls, dust, and mold. Claustrophobic. Gloomy. Strawberry curled up and closed his eyes, nose twitching at the stale, musty air.
These people had zero regard for life. Muttering curses in his head, he settled in for another long nap. It was the only way to pass the time.
Thank God cats were naturally good at sleeping.
***
The next morning, gauging the time by the faint sliver of light leaking through the door—
A maid burst in, bundled head to toe in thick clothes. Strawberry didn’t even resist. She scooped him up effortlessly.
Is it that day already?
The only day he got to leave the storage room: Diana Day.
They’d scrub him clean, fluff up his fur, do their best to make him look presentable, and then deliver him to wherever Marquess Marilon was lounging. Strawberry climbed straight onto the sofa and started rolling around.
He could feel Chesif’s irritation spike. With deliberate care, Strawberry rubbed his body into every corner of the couch and let out a loud, innocent meow.
“Meow~”
What are you gonna do about it?
It was the only time he had the upper hand over that bastard. Ever since he figured out Chesif hated cat fur, he made it his mission to shed with love. Lavishly.
He knew Chesif wouldn’t dare do anything. Diana would be here any moment.
“Tch…”
Chesif let out an irritated sigh, just as the awaited guest arrived.
“Strawberry! It’s been so long!”
Diana entered with her usual sunny smile. As she came closer, Strawberry twitched his nose. She smelled different today—warmer, sweeter than usual. Roasted nuts? Chocolate, maybe?
