When I turned my gaze toward the maids where the furball was hiding, …huh? The maids themselves were also trembling violently, their faces pale blue. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s cold. Maybe they were so shocked that they caught chills too.
I let out a nyaaang— toward my patron, whose face had gone stiff.
Patron, I’m really, really hurt. The front leg the orc hit hurts, and my side where it scratched keeps stabbing and throbbing. And my pretty black fur might’ve been ripped out so bad I’ve got bald patches now. I even messed up my claws beating and slapping that bastard around. So hurry up and give me your chest-bed and lots of petting, petting.
Maybe he read my eyes. My patron, who had been quietly watching me, carefully scooped me up in his arms. The moment I settled into his embrace, all the tension drained away, and only then did the pain start creeping in from everywhere. This time, I really was hurting, so I couldn’t help but cry out with a genuine yaong—.
***
Mm….
Uuugh…
Mm-mmm…
Mm-mmmmmm…
Ugh. My head hurts.
I stopped my deep thinking and slowly scanned the room.
As expected. No matter how I looked at it—from here or there—something felt off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was definitely strange. But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t figure out exactly what was strange. I rested my chin back on the cushion and sank into thought again.
Right now, my right front paw and my torso are wrapped tightly in white bandages. It’s not like I was injured badly enough to need bandages, but the doctor went ahead and turned me into a mummy anyway. Honestly, I’d love nothing more than to bite all these damn bandages off right now—but my patron would worry, so I can’t.
Ever since I got hurt, my patron’s been a little strange these past two days.
When he first saw me injured, his face stiffened completely, like he was overflowing with anger. The palace physician who’d been summoned examined me and said there were no serious injuries and that I’d be fine with treatment—but my patron’s hardened expression never really softened. To be fair, I had pretended to collapse for a bit to get back at Simon, but I do have a man’s pride, so I quickly showed I was okay. Even so, my patron’s mood didn’t improve at all.
Not even now, two days later.
When my patron’s in a bad mood, it doesn’t really show on the surface.
For the past two days, there hasn’t been any obvious change in his expression. Of course, I can tell how he’s feeling just by looking into his beautiful golden eyes. What’s funny is that the other humans seem to sense it instantly too. They can’t tell when my patron is in a good mood, quietly amused, or faintly smiling—but when he’s angry, they pick it up right away. Humans are kind of ridiculous like that.
Anyway, the people around us have been crawling on eggshells for the past two days, watching my patron’s mood. Whenever I shift positions and let out a strained keung— from the effort, the maids go so pale they start trembling outright. At first, I thought it was guilt or pity toward me—but watching more closely, that doesn’t seem to be it.
In any case, whenever they start shaking like that, a strange thing happens: the back of my neck turns icy, and goosebumps prickle all over me. I have no idea why I suddenly feel such a chill. I glance at my patron, wondering if he’s cold too—but he seems completely unaffected, calmly looking down at the bandages wrapped around my body. Honestly, I don’t like seeing pretty maids shivering from the cold, but as long as my patron—the most important one to me—isn’t cold, it doesn’t really matter.
My kind patron barely leaves the bedroom ever since I got hurt. He does step out briefly for the morning meeting—apparently, that’s mandatory—but since I can’t exactly crawl into his stomach with my bandaged body, I obediently stay in the bedroom and wait. When he comes back from the meeting, he brings the work he usually does in his office and handles it right there in the bedroom. Seeing that, I clicked my tongue, thinking he really didn’t want to be away from me at all—but honestly, I was a little touched.
Unable to wander around or play because of the bandages, I pass the time napping or watching my patron work. If I’m thirsty or hungry, I just call out, nyaong, and my patron comes right away. Sometimes—no, pretty often—I call him even when I don’t need anything. That means I want to be petted. My patron picks up on it instantly and strokes my head and body. When his large hand gently runs over me, the pain from the injuries I got from the orc cat disappears in an instant.
How can my patron be so kind, gentle, and angelic? If he were a woman, I’d start courting him immediately and make him my wife. Even after the curse is lifted and I go back, I’ll have to find an angel like him—and that worries me.
Mm… anyway…
I returned my thoughts to my original concern.
Since the day I got hurt, Simon hasn’t been anywhere to be seen. According to my original plan, I was supposed to keep him by my side, ordering him around this way and that while getting my revenge—but the bastard won’t show his face at all…
After the palace physician finished treating me and left, my patron stroked me while silently turning his gaze toward Simon. Julia, who had gone pale first, trembled as she explained how things ended up like this. She said they’d borrowed a cat raised by another royal family, thinking I might get bored while separated from my patron. And she added that Simon had come up with the idea himself.
Simon didn’t turn pale or tremble. But he had clearly clenched his teeth—his jaw muscles bulged and twitched. Watching Simon speak in front of my patron like he was practically begging to be killed, I felt a bit sorry for him. Because of that, I canceled my original plan to shred Simon’s face into a rag and downgraded it to simply working him to the bone.
After hearing everything, my patron dismissed them both with a simple hand gesture, without saying a word. I felt a surge of victory as I watched the white furball being carried out in Julia’s arms, nearly unconscious—along with a twinge of regret that I hadn’t beaten it one or two times less. After all, wasn’t that thing a cat raised by another royal family? Being pampered its whole life only to suddenly get beaten senseless—shock aside, it’d probably be bedridden for at least ten days. Still, that bastard surely learned its lesson. It now knows exactly what happens when you invade the territory of a cold city cat. Hmph.
But seriously—where the hell is Simon? How dare he not even come visit me while I’m injured? Shouldn’t he be rushing over with a mountain of consolation gifts and a heartfelt apology? I even decided to forgive his sins specially, you know. Hmph.
Ah. I thought too hard again—now my side’s throbbing.
Nyaaang—nyang—
Patron. Patron. My side hurts again and stuff. Pet me.
At my call, my patron sets his pen down and comes over to the bed. I swished my tail lightly to show how happy I was. Of course, I only swished it twice. I’m precious, after all.
His large hand strokes my body. Purring, I rub my head all over his thigh. I wonder if there’s any way I could bring him along with me when I return to where I belong. I know I shouldn’t get too attached—but even as I think that, I can’t stop myself. Resting my chin on his thigh, I gazed softly up into his beautiful golden eyes.
Patron. Patron. Want to come with me? If I tell them you took care of me, my grandpa, grandma, and mom will all fall head over heels for you and let you live with us. I can’t buy you huge gems like here, but I can give you my most treasured Cartier ring and watch. I could even give you the sports car Grandpa promised me as a college entrance gift.
I guess my speech was too long. My patron looks like he didn’t understand a word of it. He just gently strokes my bandaged front paw. Instead of scolding him for not understanding, I let out a long sigh. Moments like this really make me want to hurry up and turn back into a human. Then we could actually talk.
***
Ah! It’s Simon!
The moment I stepped outside and saw him, a rush of happiness surged through me.
Simon, who hadn’t shown even the tip of his nose for days, was standing stiffly outside the door. I’d been worried my angry patron might’ve exiled him somewhere—so spotting him like this was an enormous relief. Then again, my kind patron wouldn’t give Simon a heavy punishment over something like that. And besides, he’s the Crown Prince—he can’t just hand out punishments based on his mood. Of course. Of course.
Nyaaang—nyang—
Simon. What’re you doing here?
I walked up and asked, but instead of answering, he cautiously glanced past me at my patron. Seeing him up close, his face looked rough and worn—like he’d been under serious stress. It seemed like he hadn’t been allowed into the bedroom and had been waiting outside the door every day.
I turned my head to look at my patron, then looked back at Simon. Simon bowed politely to my patron, but his eyes were lowered. That demeanor didn’t look like him at all, and it even made me feel a bit sorry for him. He is my patron’s closest aide, after all. I even felt the tiniest chick-sized speck of guilt that things might’ve grown awkward between them because of me.
Ah, well—serves you right. Why’d you mess with me when I was just minding my own business?
After a moment of thought, I pushed myself upright and placed my front paw on Simon’s thigh. When I cried out, nyaong, Simon stared down at me with confused eyes. His expression clearly said he had no idea what was going on. I cried nyaong again, pressing the dull-witted bastard harder.
Hey. Hurry up and pick me up.
Maybe he got it this time. Simon glanced back and forth between me and my patron uncertainly. When I turned my head, I saw my patron nod slightly at Simon. Simon’s face brightened instantly. I calmly settled into Simon’s arms as he carefully lifted me.
My patron resumed walking. Simon followed behind him, carrying me. His arms were stiff as boards, probably from nerves. He must be terrified that if he uses too much strength, he might hurt me. Well, fair enough—his arms are thicker than my entire torso.
Honestly… I don’t know how I manage to be this magnanimous. Forgiving the bastard who let another cat infiltrate my territory so easily—and on top of that, willingly sacrificing my own body to help him reconcile with my patron. I may look like this, but I never let anyone hold me unless it’s my patron. Pretty women are the exception. Especially not some unfamiliar man. Even so, I’m letting him hold me purely to give Simon a chance to mend things with my patron.
But I have zero intention of accepting any thanks from Simon. Men who seem cold on the outside but burn hot inside don’t need words like that. We simply act in silence, exactly as we see fit.
Hmph.
