Maybe it was the intensity of the stare. Just as Ries squinted his eyes, his gaze locked perfectly with Justyn’s.
Purr, purr.
Without a word, Justyn reached out and gently scratched behind Ries’s ear with his gloved hand. The purring came out all on its own.
Watching Justyn work, meeting his gaze, getting pampered to his heart’s content—cycling through those three steps made the hours slip by in an instant.
Through a narrow gap in the tightly drawn curtains, the sky had already turned dark. Ketir would be arriving soon. Sure enough, a polite knock rang out, and Ketir stepped inside.
His face brightened slightly when he saw the neatly organized stack of documents. Of course, with those panda-like dark circles threatening to drop to his chin, he still looked half-dead.
“That was quite a bit of work, but you wrapped it up quickly. Well done.”
Normally, he would’ve left after that. But not today.
“I’ve requested a replacement priest from the temple. I should’ve done that from the beginning… Sorry for being so stubborn.”
Ever since Diana, the priestess, stormed out yesterday, the whole incident had been eating away at Ketir.
Diana had taken a disliking to his master the moment she stepped foot into the mansion. Like most people, it was probably the curse—his appearance, his aura. But with her, it was more than that. She couldn’t even hide the contempt.
Justyn had considered replacing her. It wasn’t out of spite—just a way to avoid unnecessary conflict and consider her position.
But Ketir had stopped him. Diana had immense Divine Power and was one of the most gifted healers around.
A rising star of the Church of the Sea God. Even considered a candidate for the next Saintess. Her name alone was gaining weight by the day.
She’ll definitely be the key to breaking the Duke’s curse.
That was what Ketir had believed at the time. And as always, Justyn had respected his decision.
Then yesterday happened. That fragile connection finally collapsed into a complete mess. The more Ketir thought about it, the more it made his head throb.
The fact that she acted like that despite charging an outrageous fee for every treatment meant she knew she had all the leverage.
They should’ve cut her loose sooner. Way too much time had been wasted. At this point, all he could do was hope the next priest—even if not as powerful as Diana—would at least have a decent work ethic.
“No. I think it’s time we stopped relying on the temple’s treatment altogether.”
…Yeah, that wasn’t the answer he’d been hoping for.
Ketir stared at his master in disbelief. Justyn, as composed as ever, had just dropped a bomb like it was nothing.
He paused. He really wanted to clean his ears. He knew it was rude, but how else was he supposed to check if he’d misheard?
Of course, Justyn, ever considerate, didn’t leave him stewing for long.
“My condition has improved a lot.”
“…Is… that so…”
Ketir closed his eyes tightly. So that earlier statement hadn’t been a dream—it was real. He took a slow, deep breath.
Alright. Brain’s finally catching up. Regaining his composure, Ketir asked calmly,
“Then… doesn’t that mean we should continue treatment with that priestess, Diana?”
Even thinking about it made his skin crawl, but if her treatments had been effective, they had to suck it up and keep going.
But once again, Justyn’s answer flipped the table.
“She wasn’t the one who treated the curse.”
With that, he turned his gaze—to a cat sprawled out on his desk, completely absorbed in a luxurious nap.
“Isn’t that right?”
“…Excuse me?”
Under the weight of that question, Ries froze awkwardly. Behind him, Ketir was in even worse shape. This time, he didn’t hold back—he actually shook out his ears. Still, nothing changed.
Fluffy fur at the back of its head. A plump, round butt. Tail held high and proud. Ketir stared dumbly at Ries’s backside.
A Spirit Beast or not, it still looked like an ordinary cat. This little thing cured a curse? How? Did it swat it away with a paw or something?
He nearly laughed at the absurdity—unaware he’d actually guessed right.
Logic tried to interfere, but his master’s intuition never missed. It was a conclusion born of long, hard-earned experience.
Spirit Beasts can really pull off something like that?
Ketir began recalling all the little things he’d brushed off since Ries first came to the mansion.
Yeah… maybe it was possible… Just as he was barely starting to convince himself, Justyn chimed in again, voice calm as ever.
“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you, Ketir? Ever since Ries arrived, the number of seizures has dropped dramatically.”
“Ghh…”
There was no way Ketir hadn’t noticed—he started every day checking on Justyn’s health, after all.
Even after all those temple treatments, the seizures had never shown any improvement. That they were subsiding now was no small thing. For both Ketir and Justyn, it meant everything.
“Physically, I’m in the best shape I’ve been in years.”
“…Haaah. Understood.”
Ketir ran out of things to say.
For a while, he’d been torn between continuing the temple treatments and stopping them altogether—but now, his wavering heart had finally tipped to one side.
It wasn’t just because of Justyn’s firm resolve. No, it was the way he absentmindedly stroked Ries as he said his body felt better—the look in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch. Softer than Ketir had ever seen.
In that moment, Ketir made a decision.
He’d take the gamble with his master. Justyn had finally reached out and caught hold of something that resembled happiness—Ketir had no intention of ruining that.
“Ah, also. I think it’s time we head back to the ducal estate.”
And just like that—utterly unmoved by Ketir’s emotional epiphany—his master, who was warm only to his cat and cold to the world, dropped another bombshell.
Ketir’s hands went slack.
The documents he’d been holding scattered like snowflakes to the floor.
“Ketir. You dropped the paperwork.”
Yes. I know. But picking them up was the last thing on his mind.
Eyes fixed on Justyn, Ketir asked dumbly,
“You’re… being serious?”
“Mm.”
“The ducal estate, sir?”
“Yes. I think it’ll be a much better environment for Ries.”
“……”
Ketir let out a dry laugh.
The timing made sense—no more need for temple visits, after all.
But if it were the old Justyn, he would’ve stayed holed up in this dreary capital mansion, treatments or not. That meant this entire decision… was for one cat.
Such heavy, all-consuming love.
Even with his soul visibly leaving his body, Ketir still asked what any good steward of House Laufe had to ask.
“When were you planning on making the move, sir?”
“As soon as possible.”
“…Your Grace…”
That trailing tone was so unlike him. But imagining the mountain of work ahead had already made his vision go fuzzy. And Justyn? He just gave him that blank, What’s the issue? kind of look.
Oh for the love of—! Ketir screamed silently.
***
For some reason, Ketir looked especially pitiful today.
Ries watched the spot where the man had just been, feeling a rare flicker of sympathy. All the while, Justyn continued stroking his back with steady, practiced hands.
Ries thought back on their conversation.
So basically…
We’re moving.
To the ducal estate.
It only hit him now.
So this isn’t the only house we have?
This mansion might’ve been gloomy and oppressive, but it was still massive. And to think Justyn had another one like this somewhere?
Damn. He’s loaded.
Judging by everyone’s reactions, it seemed Justyn hadn’t returned to the ducal estate in a very long time.
Which probably meant this move was going to be… a lot. Ries could still see the ghost of Ketir’s pale, devastated face lingering before his eyes. He made a silent vow to cheer for him—spiritually, at least.
That was when Justyn leaned down and whispered, his voice as calm and warm as ever.
“It’s thanks to you, Ries. Because of you… I can finally go home.”
“Mrrrow.”
“Will you come with me?”
As always, his voice held that same quiet respect. Asking, never demanding. That part of him… Ries really liked.
With a flick of his ear, he gave a small, confident nod.
“Myak?!”
And then, without warning—he was scooped up into a hug.
His paws dangled in the air, but he tried his best not to squirm. It was the most spirited, joyful movement he’d ever felt from Justyn’s hands.
When he looked up, their eyes met—Justyn’s deep crimson gaze locked perfectly with his own, like perfectly meshing gears.
And within that gaze… something warm and overflowing poured out endlessly.
