If he really didn’t want to send him away, it would’ve been easier to just seize him and keep him.
After parting from the Crown Prince who had come to see him off, the little one had curled up inside the basket and cried for a long while. If they grabbed him in any way, there was a high chance he’d simply stay. The thought that maybe none of this needed to happen at all refused to fade easily. But an order was an order. Carrying it out as given was the correct thing to do.
Simon felt the same way about not wanting to send him off, no matter how it was done. Even setting aside the personal relationship he’d formed with the boy, just considering the overwhelming influence he had on the Crown Prince made it impossible not to feel that way.
Before that small black cat appeared, had the Crown Prince ever laughed out loud even once? He had never seen even the faintest smile touch his lips. The only smile Simon could remember was the cold, chilling one he wore after subduing the current Emperor—nothing else.
Ever since the former Emperor, Crown Prince Calyx’s father, passed away prematurely, the Crown Prince’s life had been nothing but darkness.
He was still a child, and lacked the strength to stop his uncle—the current Emperor—from seizing the throne and casting him aside. As a result, the Emperor ascended the throne under the condition that he would rule only until Crown Prince Calyx came of age. Of course, there wasn’t a single person who believed he would willingly hand the throne back to Calyx once he became an adult. At the time, though, it had been the best possible option.
Naturally, the Emperor spared no effort in trying to kill his nephew, Crown Prince Calyx. Exploiting a law that stripped succession rights from anyone who did not participate in the nation’s wars, he sent a mere child off to the battlefield. Calyx had just turned ten.
It was a battlefield meant to kill him. There was no way it would be easy.
From before he even had the chance to grow up, Crown Prince Calyx had lived by roaming battlefields where it was kill or be killed. Even women who had been drawn to the enticing image of a young and beautiful Crown Prince could not bring themselves to approach him, overwhelmed by the lethal aura and icy chill that clung to him. Needless to say, animals or children—far more sensitive to such presences—stood no chance at all.
And yet, ever since the Crown Prince met that cat, he carried a smile with him every single day.
A smile bloomed on his face without even his own awareness. He laughed aloud in genuine delight. And that wasn’t all. The imperial palace, long suffocated beneath the Crown Prince’s murderous aura and coldness, had begun to fill with vitality and liveliness once more—another profound change.
Perhaps because of that, the depth of the Crown Prince’s affection for the cat was extraordinary.
He didn’t even try to stop him when he declared he would leave, simply allowing him to do whatever he wanted. Of course, he wouldn’t truly let him go—but regardless, he granted him anything he wished.
That small cat—no, that boy—had to remain by the Crown Prince’s side.
Simon judged it so, and he was certain of it.
***
Smack—
A ceramic bowl flipped over from my vicious front-paw punch.
I twisted my face into a sneer and flashed a rotten grin at the bandit.
You seriously expect me to eat THIS crap?
The bandit glanced back and forth between my face and the food spilled across the floor. This was already the third meal I’d overturned, and it looked like he was finally on the verge of snapping. I deliberately swept nearby straw together with my front paw, covering the spilled food. Then, in the kindest voice I could muster, I explained it to him.
Nyaaang—
This isn’t for eating. It’s for burying.
The bandit slowly bent his knees, brushed away the straw I’d piled on top, and began gathering the bowl and food. I sat upright in an elegant, dignified pose and watched him clean. His hands trembled faintly as he picked up the spilled food—looks like he was properly intimidated by my table-flipping charisma.
After cleaning everything up, the bandit turned around without a word and stomped out. What a shame. I’d been planning to use it as an excuse to turn his face into a rag once he finally exploded. But I’m a cold city cat who doesn’t act recklessly; unless someone tries to harm me first, I don’t go swinging my claws around.
That guy—scruffy as he looks—seems to have a decent sense of when to read the room. The fact that he endured it without lunging at me proves it. Your good sense saved your face, Bandit Shongki.
With lingering regret, I returned to sit atop my cushion.
Leaning against one wall, Simon was chomping down on the bread the bandit had left behind. I couldn’t help but admire his thick nerves. It wasn’t the soft, moist bread from the imperial palace, but something that looked hard as a rock—yet he was happily stuffing it into his mouth. Truly impressive adaptability.
Watching Simon diligently eat his bread made me hungry.
To be honest, I could’ve eaten the food the bandit brought.
Maybe because of my dignified appearance and behavior, the bandit had actually put some thought into the meal. He placed well-grilled meat into my ceramic bowl—the one Julia always prepared for me. For food brought by a filthy, ragged bandit, it honestly didn’t look half bad. Still, in order to protect my honor, I heroically overturned the bowl, just like I had for the past few days.
Being kidnapped by bandits and then shamelessly gobbling up the food they give me—my pride wouldn’t allow it. No, more than pride, this was a matter of my honor. I am the kind of cat who absolutely does not eat food given by humans I did not choose. Because of that, I continued flipping over every meal the bandits brought until I felt like stopping.
Apparently they realized the importance of my existence, because no matter how many times I overturned the bowl, they kept bringing fresh food. They might not know that I’m the Crown Prince’s cat, but they definitely sensed the noble aura radiating from me.
Well, of course they did. Smooth, glossy, abundant fur; piercing eyes; neatly groomed claws; the overwhelming presence I exude; and even the expensive necklace around my neck… No matter how ignorant a bandit might be, recognizing my value is only natural. Obviously. Obviously.
I was nodding to myself when the door opened again and a bandit stomped inside. Despite having been captured for days now, I raised my chin and sat in an elegant pose, determined to show that I had never once been broken or intimidated.
The bandit approached right up to me, set my ceramic bowl down in front of the basket, then took a few steps back. I gave him a single glance, then lowered my head and sniffed the food.
Hmm. Looks like it’s cooked just right.
I wasn’t entirely against flipping it over one more time, but today, I suppose I’ll stop here and eat. Otherwise, the bandit might start crying.
The moment I started chewing on the meat, the bandit’s face visibly relaxed. His chest rose and fell dramatically—looks like he finally let out a sigh of relief. I chewed the meat with neat little bites and tilted my head at him with innocent eyes.
Huh? Did something happen? Why do you look like you just came back from the brink of death?
At my pure and delicate demeanor, the bandit’s lips trembled. I swallowed the meat I was chewing, then licked around my mouth and front paws with my tongue, flick-flick. When I tilted my head again, the bandit abruptly turned around and bolted out like he was running for his life.
I giggled softly while staring at the closed door.
I took another bite of meat—and then my face started to sting. When I lifted my head, Simon was sitting there, staring blankly at me. I swallowed and glanced at the empty plate in front of him. There had been three huge pieces of bread, but he’d already devoured them all. I thought he was just big, but he eats a lot too. Useless as he is, all he does is stuff his face. Hmph.
I stared straight at Simon and deliberately chewed the meat with loud smacking sounds.
Gulp—
Simon’s Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably.
I made a show of savoring several more pieces of meat, then carefully licked my front paws. Glancing at my bowl, I saw there was still quite a bit left. I hesitated for a moment.
For the past few days, annoyed at how utterly useless he was, I hadn’t given him any leftover meat. While I at least got to eat freshly grilled, warm meat at every mealtime, Simon here always gnawed on nothing but rock-hard bread. Sure, he’s a pathetic excuse for a knight who got kidnapped by a handful of bandits, but we’re comrades who shared a bond of manly friendship. And besides, that old man Licht was probably worried about whether his runaway son was even eating properly.
Hmm…
After a brief deliberation, I made my decision.
Fine. Even if I’m going to bully him, it’s only proper to feed him first. I’ll stuff him first, then bully him again later.
Decision made, I grabbed the edge of the plate with the meat in my mouth and dragged it toward him, scraping it across the floor. I set it down in front of the blankly seated Simon, nudged it toward him with my front paw, and let out a meow.
Sitting in front of the plate, Simon’s eyes trembled. Then he inhaled sharply.
“…You’re giving this to me? To eat?”
He asked in a shaking voice.
I nodded at the pitiful, useless friend who had just stuffed three pieces of bread nearly as big as my entire body into his mouth. Even if I was going to scold him, I’d do it after feeding him first, I repeated to myself.
Simon picked up the meat with his bound hands and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing slowly. The piece that felt large in my mouth was far too small for Simon. After barely two chews, it was gone, and he grabbed another piece. After a few more bites, the bowl was completely empty.
I clicked my tongue while staring at the bare bowl.
The guy who had seemed nothing but pathetic just moments ago now looked… a little pitiful. Letting out a long sigh, I lightly patted his thigh with my paw.
