I stared blankly at the forest that had burned to ash.
That forest was neither the western forest nor the southern forest—nor was it the northern forest, for that matter. That was the Eastern Forest. No, it had been the Eastern Forest. The very Eastern Forest where I had fallen into this world. The Eastern Forest where the Witch’s Cabin stood.
With the entire forest burned down, it was only natural that the Witch’s Cabin had burned away as well. And the deep part of the forest where I had fallen had either already burned to nothing—or was still burning even now.
Why did it have to be now? Wildfires in winter aren’t unheard of, but still—why did a blaze large enough to burn down the entire forest have to happen now? If it had only broken out a few days later, that would’ve been enough.
“K.”
Simon called my name after staring at the burning forest for a long while. I looked up at him. He was gazing down at me with pity in his eyes. I met his gaze briefly, then turned my eyes back to the forest.
Now, both the way to lift the curse and the way back were gone.
The forest itself no longer existed, and the Witch’s Cabin was gone as well.
Sitting here and staring at the burned forest, my head felt strangely empty—yet my heart was calm. I wasn’t particularly sad, angry, or despairing. Maybe the shock was simply too great. Maybe it was so overwhelming that it didn’t feel real yet.
All of a sudden, Simon scooped me up in his arms. Normally, I would’ve turned the back of his hand into a cleaning rag for daring to touch me without permission, but given the circumstances, I quietly let myself be held.
He fumbled awkwardly, unsure how to hold me, then clumsily stroked my back. Compared to my patron’s skill, it wasn’t even petting—more like timid, sneaking touches. A terrible hand, really. But I endured it anyway, because I could feel that he was trying, in his own way, to comfort me.
“You’re… going back, right?”
Simon asked carefully, reading my mood. Cradled in his arms, I stared at the burned Eastern Forest for a moment, then nodded. Simon’s chest swelled and fell dramatically—he must’ve let out a sigh of relief.
“Let’s go.”
As if afraid I might change my mind, Simon spoke firmly and mounted the horse. I climbed into the basket fixed to the saddle and looked at the burned forest one last time.
Waking up in the forest without knowing why and wandering around… living under a curse in the Witch’s Cabin… It felt like it had happened just yesterday, and yet also like it had happened a very long time ago. Only after a long while did I finally tear my gaze away from the forest and look forward, in the direction the horse was heading.
Simon, who had waited for me the entire time, slowly urged the horse forward.
Feeling the clop-clop of hooves and the vibrations beneath me, I took one deep breath. Then I muttered to myself.
Yeah. Let’s go back. To the imperial palace. To my patron’s side.
***
A large hand slides back and forth over my back through the fabric, then pats my butt softly. I wriggle around to adjust my position and let out a small yawn.
When I press my nose to his skin and sniff, his abdominal muscles twitch. I poke the ridged muscles with my claws. Just like his thighs, my claws bounce right off—boing, boing. I giggle, remembering my cousin noona’s enthusiastic praise of horse muscles.
As I curl up quietly, I hear a soft scratchy sound through the clothes. The sound of writing with a feather pen. He’s probably signing documents. Or writing something. The sound of a feather pen usually makes me think of feather play, but instead of jumping out of his clothes, I simply closed my eyes.
When we returned to the imperial palace after seeing the burned forest, my patron welcomed me with a gentle smile. He carefully lifted me out of the saddle basket and pressed his lips firmly to the top of my head, whispering, I’m glad you came back. I didn’t answer—I just scratched his chest roughly with my front paws.
We had parted thinking it might be a final farewell, yet I didn’t even offer a greeting upon our reunion—and my patron never blamed me for it. Without a word, he tucked me into his clothes as I kept scratching his chest. From the moment we arrived, I barricaded myself inside my patron’s stomach.
From morning until night, he carried me curled up in his arms for days on end. He walked around all day with his belly bulging, yet never once complained or showed the slightest sign of dissatisfaction. He didn’t offer clumsy comfort or tell me to stay strong. He simply stroked me through his clothes whenever he had time. I only came out briefly when I needed to, then crawled back in and kept sleeping, wrapped in my patron’s skin and scent. Even at night, I didn’t turn back into a human—I slept on his chest. I just wanted to keep sleeping.
The place I came from had burned to ashes, and the Witch’s Cabin that could lift my curse had disappeared. It was a bleak reality. So it was only natural that I felt so utterly drained. And yet—strangely enough—as I left the burned forest behind and returned to the imperial palace, an absurd thought crossed my mind. Since the forest had burned down and the way back was gone, I could stay with my patron now. I had tried to go back, but there was no way anymore—so it wasn’t my fault. I’d done my best to return, so I wasn’t abandoning my poor old man on purpose. This isn’t my fault anymore. The moment I realized I’d thought something like that, my chest churned and I felt like I might throw up.
My poor grandpa. My poor grandma. My poor mom.
They poured every bit of love they had—everything they could give—into raising me so preciously, and I had thoughts like that. It was unforgivable. If they knew, they’d cry their hearts out, probably until they shed tears of blood. I’m truly ungrateful. A terrible person.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to go home.
I want to go home and hear Grandpa call me our little mutt. I want to sprawl between Grandma and Mom and take a nap. I want to eat the soybean paste stew Grandma makes. I want to link arms with Grandpa and go to the department store. I really, really want to do all that.
I definitely want to.
But… at the same time, I want to stay here.
I want to eat, sleep, and play with my patron every day. I want to curl up in his stomach and nap and mess around. I want his hands to pet me. I want to see his pretty smiling eyes. I want to hear that soft voice he whispers only to me—the guy who barely speaks a few words a day to anyone else. I don’t want my lips to swell up, but I still want to rub lips with him, cling to him, roll around on the bed together. I want to sleep pressed tightly against my patron.
Grandpa, I’m sorry. Grandma, I’m sorry. Mom, I’m sorry.
I kept muttering to myself.
But I’m really not staying on purpose, Grandpa. I didn’t want to part from my patron either, but I still tried to leave, you know? Even when my chest felt so tight I thought I’d go crazy, I still tried to go back. But there was a fire, and everything burned down. A wildfire burned it all, and I couldn’t find a way back.
I did have bad thoughts—but if there had been a way back, I really would’ve gone. Even if I missed my patron so much it hurt, I would’ve gone back. I swear. So please… don’t hate me too much, Grandpa? There’s just no way right now, so I’ll stay with my patron for a bit. He said he’d send people to other countries to see if there’s a way. So I’ll stay here just until they find one. Once they do, I’ll definitely go back—so please don’t hate me, Grandpa.
I must’ve started crying without realizing it. I wiped my eyes with my front paw and licked it clean. Then I rubbed my runny nose against my patron’s clothes to wipe it. My front paws are precious, after all.
As I dig my claws into his clothes and climb upward, my patron slips a hand inside and plucks me out. Dangling from his hand, I look straight into his eyes and let out a strong, confident meow.
Cool cold city cat K—revival complete.
At my report, those golden eyes smile beautifully. I tap his cheek with my front paw, comforting him for all his hard work over the past few days. Then I turn my head toward the feather pen and cry out, Nyaaah—! Because once you’re revived, there’s a rule that says you must play feather. Knowing this rule well, my patron readily picks up the feather pen. I narrow my eyes and focus on the feather swaying right in front of my nose.
Simon’s gaze lingers on the boy for a moment before slipping away. Calyx lifts a smile to his lips, feeling nothing but satisfaction.
The boy who had done nothing but crawl into his arms and sleep for days finally came out today. Perhaps he had gathered his emotions—he cried out a spirited meow and ran around enthusiastically, pretending it was all for feather play. After playing that hard, he exhausted himself and was now fast asleep atop the documents in front of Calyx.
Work had come to a halt because of it, but that hardly mattered.
Calyx gently brushed the tips of the boy’s perky ears with his fingertip, then shifted his gaze to Simon standing before him. The knight who had safely brought the boy back wore a strange expression—somewhere between relief and unease. Guilt, most likely, over having deceived the boy.
“Good work.”
At Calyx’s brief praise, Simon bowed his head slightly.
In truth, this mission was likely the easiest of all the countless tasks Simon had ever carried out. All it required was buying a bit of time—having knights disguised as bandits hold him for a few days while an entire forest was burned down. That was all. Absurdly easy—though the emotional burden would’ve been heavy.
In any case, everything had been resolved perfectly.
He had honored the boy’s wish to return, and after seeing the burned forest, the boy had given up on leaving of his own accord. On top of that, the forest that might have taken the boy away had been completely dealt with. The boy returned immediately after seeing the burned forest, spent a few days drained of energy, and then overcame even that. Everything had settled into its rightful place—what could be better?
“The forest?”
At Calyx’s short question, Simon waited a few seconds before answering in a low voice.
“We confirmed that every last tree has burned.”
Calyx gestured for Simon to withdraw.
Forests are valuable resources. Burning them is a waste. But the Empire’s lands are vast—endless, even—and forests are no exception. Losing one won’t cause any real harm. In fact, if the burned forest is cleared and distributed to the people, they’ll welcome it with open arms.
Clearing the land… yes. That will do nicely.
Calyx narrowed his eyes and let out a low chuckle.
Better to have the land cleared and turned into farmland so that trees can never grow back and form a forest again. Just in case a forest might someday return—and the boy might think of going there.
The boy yawns wide with his eyes still closed, smacks his lips, and lets out a low snore. The soft dorong-dorong sound suggests he’s utterly exhausted after running around so energetically for the first time in days.
Calyx lowers his head and presses his lips to the small, delicate crown of the boy’s head.
Small, fragile lives must be handled carefully, cautiously, and with the utmost care—so they are never harmed by this hand. The boy is no exception.
The boy will never learn the truth of this incident. Just as the drunken boy once said, he can remain a kind and gentle Crown Prince forever. And Calyx will remain the boy’s patron—one who never binds or restrains him, who grants whatever the boy wishes. After all, the boy will never be able to leave, and he will live happily and blissfully without ever noticing the invisible rope tightly binding his body.
Leaning back in his chair, Calyx gazes at the adorable boy snoring softly and lets a smile linger on his lips.
