This was his own bold attempt at showing affection. When he met the other’s gaze to gauge the response, those crimson eyes shimmered faintly.
Did he like it?
Justyn hesitated for a moment before finally speaking.
“…Once you’re fully healed, I’ll make sure you return to where you came from.”
“……”
The hopeful anticipation that had been steadily rising plummeted in an instant. With a huff, Strawberry smacked Justyn’s leg with his tail in protest.
That’s when a sudden knock echoed through the room. Strawberry, too focused on Justyn to notice anyone’s approach, jolted in surprise and leapt in place.
He quickly scurried behind Justyn, feeling somewhat safer with the man’s sturdy frame blocking his view.
“Come in.”
At the Duke’s command, the door opened—and the man who entered paused in surprise. There was Justyn, slightly hunched over, with a cat peeking cautiously from behind him. The closeness between them looked as natural as could be.
“You two seem to have gotten close.”
“He’s quite fond of people.”
As the conversation flowed casually, Strawberry simply rolled his eyes. Judging by the way they talked, the man was clearly one of Justyn’s subordinates. Strawberry scrutinized him closely.
Dull gray hair, dark eyes, deep under-eye circles, and pale skin—the man looked thoroughly exhausted. His weary appearance stirred a touch of pity.
But Strawberry didn’t waste much time sizing him up. His attention was instantly stolen by the small dish in the man’s hands.
…Is that food?
The moment he realized what it was, his mouth watered. So that’s what that mouthwatering scent was. Sensing the intensity of Strawberry’s stare, the man crouched down to meet him at eye level.
He clicked his tongue softly and held out the dish. Strawberry nearly ran to him on instinct, completely lured in by the delicious aroma.
“…He seems especially attached to Your Grace.”
With supreme restraint, Strawberry turned his head sharply and retreated behind Justyn once more. The man narrowed his eyes at the cold shoulder.
Look what I’m doing for you here.
It was classic. “See how much I like you? Keep me.” Strawberry butted his head stubbornly against Justyn’s back.
“……”
But as always, the object of his affection said nothing. No reaction. Utterly consistent.
Just as Strawberry was about to get sulky again, Justyn took the dish from the man and set it down in front of him. His frustration melted away instantly.
“Nyaaang!”
He lunged at the bowl without a second thought. On the white plate, piled generously, was a mountain of finely shredded chicken.
His heart thumped at the sight. Meat—real meat. The tender chicken was cooked perfectly and gave off a rich, savory scent that made his nose twitch.
He opened his mouth wide and stuffed it full. The seasoning was mild, but the warmth was just right, and the signature flavor of chicken hit deep. The texture was heavenly. Waves of bliss swept through his body.
Meanwhile, the man who had delivered the food was now being treated to a front-row seat of an unexpected feline mukbang.
Ketir Ribote, the chief steward of House Laufe, watched the scruffy yellow cat devour his meal, oddly captivated.
The cat had such an appetite—every bite involved opening his little mouth as wide as it would go, inhaling chunks of chicken like a black hole. It was almost mesmerizing.
Yet even so, the scene had a certain tranquility. To witness something like this in the Duke’s bedroom of all places… Ketir never would’ve imagined it. Still, it was a welcome change.
He spoke up gently.
“Have you given him a name?”
“…No. Once his leg heals, I’ll return him to where he came from.”
In other words, he wasn’t planning to name him. Yet despite the firm answer, Justyn’s eyes remained fixed on the little cat.
He seemed unusually interested. Ketir didn’t point it out. Telling the Duke to follow his heart felt far too light when the man bore such heavy burdens.
But of course, Strawberry’s ears were wide open. Even while scarfing down his meal, he heard every word loud and clear.
Fueled by righteous indignation, he tore into the chicken with even more gusto. Delicious food, warmth, a master with a decent personality—there was no way he was giving up a place like this.
I’ll cling to him until he gets sick of me.
He would get a name. He vowed it to himself with solemn conviction. …Right after finishing this.
Soon, only juices remained at the bottom of the bowl. He licked it clean. A meal well conquered.
With his belly full, he was ready to glue himself to Justyn again when—
“Waaaeooong!”
Before he could take a step, Ketir scooped him up and whisked him off to the bathroom. He stared at the rising steam with narrowed, resentful eyes.
He hadn’t wanted to bare his claws at the guy who’d brought him food… but now? He had no choice.
He tensed up, bracing for the oncoming assault of rough hands.
Warm water splashed over his paws first, then trickled across his back. It felt like the man was easing him into it—getting him used to the temperature. Then, ever so gently, he was lowered into a basin filled to the brim…
“……!”
His damp tail gave a violent twitch. Whatever strength he had left had already melted away. Strawberry practically collapsed on the spot, turning into a limp puddle of fluff.
So warm…
Foamy hands followed, carefully lathering his body. The soap must’ve been picked with care—no harsh smells, no stinging chemicals, just clean and mild. Not even his nose twitched in protest.
“…Does he like water?”
A voice full of skepticism drifted down from above. The man clearly knew most cats hated baths.
But inside this body was someone who used to bathe daily as part of normal human life. The reason he’d loathed bathing until now wasn’t because he was a cat—it was because the water had been freezing, and the hands scrubbing him were rough enough to hurt. But this? Warm water, a gentle touch, and fragrance-free soap?
This was luxury.
It was practically a spa treatment—soaking bath, bubble massage, full relaxation course. Strawberry melted into it with a deep, rumbling purr.
No doubt about it. This place was paradise.
Eventually, the heavenly bath came to an end.
Now completely dry and freshly fluffed, Strawberry paused mid-groom to pat at Ketir with his front paw.
He could tell the man was listening. That respectful attentiveness, even toward a cat, sent Strawberry’s opinion of him skyrocketing.
“Mya, myang.”
He tapped the floor, then the closed door with his paw. Ketir raised a brow and asked, half uncertain,
“…You want me to take you back to the Duke?”
“Eyaang.”
Bingo! Strawberry bounced on his paws, tail twitching with excitement. The man’s already-bemused face grew even more bewildered at the clear response.
Still looking unconvinced, Ketir picked him up. He’d planned to return the cat after the bath anyway.
The same feline who’d thrashed and squirmed earlier now dangled in his arms like a plush toy, completely at ease. Every time Ketir paused mid-step, Strawberry would turn his head with a look that clearly asked, Why are we stopping? The more he saw of this cat, the weirder—and smarter—it seemed.
When they returned to the bedroom—
“You’re back.”
The Duke, seated at his desk and reading over documents, greeted them without lifting his head.
Just moments ago, Strawberry had been hanging limp like laundry. But the second he heard that voice, his legs began to wiggle. The instant Ketir set him down, he bolted toward Justyn at full speed.
“…Hmm.”
Justyn narrowed his eyes at the fluffball dashing toward him, tail swaying side to side. Ketir recognized that look instantly. It was the “I’m about to dump this problem on you” face.
“I still have unfinished business, so I’ll excuse myself, Your Grace.”
And with that, Ketir made a swift and decisive exit before Justyn could say a word. The door swung shut behind him.
Thud. Justyn didn’t bother stopping him. Instead, his gaze dropped downward.
There, sitting squarely in front of him, was the cat—eyes wide, gleaming like polished gems.
“……”
“Mwoooong.”
And just like that, they were alone again.
Strawberry had no intention of wasting the opportunity. Whether the man beside him was brooding or not was irrelevant. In one fluid motion, he hopped up onto Justyn’s lap and claimed it.
“…!”
Justyn stiffened like he’d been shocked. The tiny, warm body curled up on him made him freeze. He didn’t move to shove the cat off, but he couldn’t bring himself to pet him either. He just sat there, rigid as stone.
As expected, tension gathered in his thigh muscles beneath Strawberry. They were so taut, they felt like rock. With a disgruntled noise, Strawberry pressed his front paws firmly into the Duke’s leg.
Loosen up, would you?
Brazen as it was, it worked. Slowly, the rigid muscles began to relax.
There we go. Strawberry melted back into a sprawl, draped across Justyn’s lap. The man’s body radiated warmth, heating him up from underneath.
It was toasty. It was cozy.
It was perfect.
