Lyx asks while sweeping his hair back. But his eyes are still fixed on the nape of my neck.
I lift the pillow and whack Lyx’s face over and over. Take that, you filthy, foul-mouthed pervert.
Even after getting smacked with a pillow, the bastard looks pleased. With a sly, crescent-shaped smile, he sticks himself tightly against my body. At times like this, I seriously question his mental state. Could it be that he’s the kind of pervert who enjoys getting hit?
“Don’t be mad. It’s my fault.”
Lyx whispers against my ear as his hand gently strokes my belly. That soft murmur eases my irritation just a little. I really shouldn’t keep letting him off like this—it’s a problem. If I spoil him too much, I’ll be the one who suffers later.
Noticing that my temper has cooled, Lyx murmurs into my ear, “So what exactly feels strange?”
I let out a deep sigh.
“Well, it’s just that…”
It all started a few days ago. That moment when Julia went pfft and laughed behind me.
Ever since then, something’s felt subtly off. Especially with the maids.
Normally, when the maids see me hugging Big Guy and playing around, they’re too busy squealing. It reaches a peak when I clutch Big Guy and roll around with him. They clap their hands and stamp their feet, and some of them even hop up and down in place. When that happens, a spectacular sight unfolds as their bouncy, glutinous rice-cake breasts jiggle wildly. Because of that, I sometimes roll around with Big Guy on purpose, just to watch their chests bounce.
But starting from that day, their reactions changed in a strange way.
Everything else is the same. But they’ve started whispering among themselves more often. And I frequently catch them glancing at me with corners of their mouths twitching upward. Once, they even covered their mouths as a group and went pfft pfft together.
There’s definitely something going on, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is. And it’s not like I can just run over in my human form in the middle of the night and ask them what their problem is.
“Did I… change somehow?”
When I ask with a serious expression, Lyx’s hand, which had been stroking my belly, pauses for a moment before starting again. In a calm, even voice, he whispers, “There’s nothing like that, so don’t worry about it.”
“No. Something’s definitely weird.”
Frustrated, I scratch at Lyx’s arm. If I stay this curious, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep.
“Nothing about you has changed at all, so there’s no need to worry. If something had, there’s no way I wouldn’t know. So stop thinking about it and go to sleep. K.”
Lyx murmurs softly as if soothing me, his hand gently rubbing my belly.
Hmm. When I think about it, that does make sense. If something about me had changed or gotten weird, there’s no way my Lyx wouldn’t notice. Maybe Julia just sneezed back then. She probably covered her mouth because she didn’t want spit getting on her perfectly groomed fur.
Yeah. That’s it. If I think about it that way, everything makes sense.
Just because a maid has a pretty face and big breasts doesn’t mean she’s forbidden from sneezing. And maybe the maids were acting strange simply because they’d fallen for me all over again. After all, lately my fur has been especially thick and glossy. It wouldn’t be strange for them to be newly smitten by my appearance.
Sure. Sure.
As lips gently press against my ear and hands stroke me, drowsiness slowly washes over me. Handsome, rich, kind, and even good at putting me to sleep—this guy really does have the qualifications to be my you-know-what.
I climb up onto Lyx’s chest and let out a long, lazy yawn.
It’s not quite like the hearth, but as expected of a patron-branded chest-bed, it’s nice and warm. When I rub my cheek against his chest, his hand begins to stroke my back. I close my heavy-lidded eyes and drift toward sleep.
Calyx gently strokes the sleeping boy’s back and smiles faintly.
To think he’d been worrying about something like that with such a tiny head. He’s strangely dull in some ways, yet unexpectedly perceptive in others. Still, it’s fortunate that he let his doubts rest at this point. If he hadn’t, a new source of enjoyment might’ve vanished entirely.
When Calyx caresses the boy’s side, there’s a satisfying amount of flesh there. Still, it’s nothing compared to when he’s a cat. Calyx feels a twinge of regret. If he’d just put on a little more weight, he could cup that soft flesh in his hand and knead it properly. But no matter how much he thinks about it, the boy doesn’t gain weight as easily as he’d like. At least when he’s in cat form, there’s a decent bit of belly fat to enjoy.
After discovering the boy’s belly fat, Calyx had carefully begun increasing his food portions. He made sure to give him his favorite snacks at every opportunity. Thanks to that, when the boy lay stretched out on his side, a delightfully soft belly would sag adorably. He’s currently fully absorbed in the secret pleasure of kneading that belly fat when the boy isn’t looking. He had no intention of losing that joy after only a few days.
The boy is proud and quite conscious of his appearance. If he were to find out the truth, he’d undoubtedly make a huge fuss about dieting from that very day on. That was something Calyx absolutely couldn’t allow.
“…Meow. Back… mmm…”
The boy rubs his cheek against Calyx and mutters in his sleep.
Looks like I’ll have to increase the snacks even more.
Thinking that, Calyx once again begins to stroke the boy’s back in long, slow motions.
***
Clink—
A glittering gold coin drops into the chest. At the clear, ringing sound of coins striking each other, the tip of my tail flicks and dances on its own. If someone were to ask me whether Mozart’s music or the sound of gold coins is more beautiful, I’d answer without hesitation that it’s the sound of gold coins. Naturally. Music doesn’t put food on the table, but the sound of gold coins does. Gold coin sounds are pleasing to the eye, pleasing to the ear, and practical—worthy of nothing but praise.
Right now, I’m sitting in my personal dress room.
This used to be my bedroom. But since it was rarely used, Julia renovated it into a stylish space.
Along one wall of the dress room stands a row of custom-made furniture.
The larger pieces are wardrobes for clothes I wear in my human form. The smaller ones are mini wardrobes for my cat clothes. Most of the outfits were made by designer Uncle Bondre, but there are also some gifts handmade by the maids mixed in.
When I’m in cat form, I don’t particularly enjoy wearing clothes. My beautiful, luxuriant fur is the ultimate outfit. Covering up natural beauty with mere clothing is a foolish thing to do.
Of course, there are exceptions.
The imperial palace hosts banquets frequently, for all sorts of reasons. Whenever that happens, I always appear wearing matching couple outfits with Lyx. At night, in human form; during the day, in cat form. And sometimes, even at night, I attend in cat form.
Of course, it wouldn’t be considered improper for me to attend as a cat wearing nothing but a necklace. But isn’t it a place where everyone dresses up with care? I, too, have an obligation to do my best to match that effort. And by wearing couple outfits with Lyx, it also helps ward off pointless flies.
For that reason, whenever Lyx has an outfit made, I end up with two versions of the same design. One for my human form, and one for my cat form. Because of that, the wardrobes lining one wall are practically bursting at the seams. Still, it’s not a big concern—apparently, a new wardrobe will be arriving soon.
On the opposite wall from the wardrobes stretches a long display cabinet.
Inside it, my necklaces are exhibited, sorted into sections by gemstone color. Seeing so many necklaces makes me feel like I’ve become some kind of excessively indulgent cat. But that’s absolutely not true. Lyx insists on giving me gifts whenever he feels like it—what am I supposed to do about that? If I were to refuse, it’s obvious that soft-hearted Lyx would get hurt. As his you-know-what, it’s my duty to graciously accept all his gifts.
Lastly, tucked into one corner of the dress room is my treasure vault. Several large, sturdy wooden chests sit there. One of them, in particular, is filled to the brim with gold coins—and it’s the one that receives the most of my love.
The maids are well aware of my deep affection for gold coins. The kind-hearted girls sometimes wipe the coins inside the chest one by one with cloths. Since there’s such a massive quantity, I can’t help but feel a bit sorry. But the maids seem to quite enjoy the task, gathering together to chat while polishing the coins. When that happens, I sit alongside them and admire the glittering gold. It’s a shared hobby between the maids and me.
Every time a polished coin returns to the chest, it makes that lovely clink-clink sound. No matter how many times I hear it, I never get tired of it. And if I start feeling bored, I can just climb onto the lap of one of the maids polishing coins and knead her glutinous rice-cake breasts. Listening to the sound of gold coins while kneading bouncy breasts—there’s no cat in the world happier than me.
“Nabi, it’s time for a snack.”
Hm? A snack?
Julia holds out a bowl. Inside the snack bowl is my favorite beef jerky. Instead of eating it, I stare intently at Julia.
I don’t really feel like having a snack, though?
When I keep staring, the other maids nearby join in.
“Nabi, let’s eat a snack. A snack. Hm?”
“Yeah, let’s eat a snack. It looks delicious. Yum-yum.”
…What is wrong with these women?
