The whole world looked beautiful.
Even the dreary mansion that could’ve been ripped straight from the opening of a horror movie, and the pitch-black interior with every light turned off—he could accept it all now. Maybe they each had their own kind of charm?
I finally have a home!
No more worrying about turning into a stray. He was a proper house cat now—with a home, and a human.
The humiliations he’d endured in that cat’s body flashed through his mind: getting locked up, smacked around, starved, chased off by territorial strays…
Those days were finally behind him.
And now, he even had a name.
I like it.
It wasn’t some random fruit name slapped on without a thought. Ries had ditched the crude name his temperamental old owner gave him without a second of hesitation.
“I’ll take it off now.”
“Mrrrow.”
“……”
But when Justyn reached for the collar, Ries flinched away. The gloved hand froze mid-air, stunned.
It’s not like he planned to wear it forever—but not yet. At the very least…
“…Your Grace?”
“……”
He had to show it off first.
Right on cue, Ketir entered the room, and Ries proudly raised his head. When Ketir spotted the collar, he reacted like he’d been expecting it all along.
“So you did end up putting it on.”
“…Yeah.”
Justyn finally seemed to snap out of it. He straightened up awkwardly and nodded.
Ries trotted over and lightly tapped his foot, as if urging him. Even dazed, Justyn responded.
“Ries?”
“…So you’ve named him?”
“Ah.”
It clicked. The swaying tail, the proud posture, the outstretched neck—and Ketir, staring in quiet shock.
Justyn spoke slowly.
“…Yeah. I guess he wanted to show it off.”
“He certainly looks that way. I figured you’d name him the moment you started keeping him close.”
“Mm.”
Justyn reached for the collar again, and this time Ries didn’t flinch. In fact, he stretched his neck like he’d been waiting for it, then used his paw to scratch the spot where the collar had been.
The creeping anxiety he’d been feeling vanished, just like that. Justyn gave a faint smile behind his mask and awkwardly stroked him.
Then he said, “Ketir. Take him for now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ketir scooped Ries up with practiced ease. Ries, who had been enjoying the gentle petting, suddenly froze.
Wait, what?
He stared at Justyn in confusion. After a moment’s hesitation, Justyn waved at him.
He even waves goodbye now? That tiny gesture looked almost cute, considering his size. Ries blinked in surprise, then shook his head.
Not the point right now.
“Meooow!”
“There he goes again. I told you—I’ll bring you back in the morning.”
Wait, weren’t we supposed to sleep together?
He gave up on that idea. No matter how tightly he clung to the doorknob, they always managed to pry him off and carry him away. Ries had learned to dread Ketir’s unrelenting grip.
Fine. Whatever.
But unlike before, he wasn’t anxious. Ever since he’d gotten his new name, he felt calmer. More grounded.
It had been about a week since he officially became Justyn’s companion cat. Since then, his daily routine had settled into a rhythm.
When Ketir woke up and started getting ready to leave, Ries would get up too and groom himself. As soon as the door opened, he’d bolt to Justyn’s room and scratch at the door.
Not long after, it would open from the inside. He’d greet Justyn with a little show of affection, then leap onto the freshly made bed and roll around like it was his throne.
He’d share breakfast with Justyn, courtesy of Ketir, and once Justyn got to work, Ries would curl up somewhere cozy and watch him for the rest of the morning.
Today was no different.
“Meow.”
Ries jumped up onto Justyn’s lap and rubbed against him once. Tufts of golden and white fur clung stubbornly to his black trousers.
Feeling oddly proud of himself, he let out a pleased mewl and hopped onto the desk. His leg had healed nicely, the bandages were gone, and there was nothing left to get in the way.
“……”
At moments like this, Justyn would glance at the fur now coating his pants, then shift his gaze to the fluffball responsible—watching him quietly before getting back to work.
The soft scratching of the pen against paper tickled Ries’s ears. Eat when you’re hungry, nap when you’re tired, roll around when you feel like it… only now did he realize how good life could be.
How long had it been since he’d truly rested?
Back when he was human, he’d always been busy—studying, job hunting, navigating society—and even when he got a break, it never felt like he was actually resting. Thinking back on that now-distant past, he yawned wide enough to make his jaw pop.
Maybe… living as a cat isn’t so bad after all.
Sure, the lack of entertainment was a downside, but so far he hadn’t felt bored. And even if he did, there was plenty to keep him occupied—like exploring the mansion.
This place was basically his territory now. It was only right, as a cat, to fully map it out.
Now that I think about it…
A sudden thought struck him. Ries blinked.
There weren’t any people.
Outside of Justyn and Ketir’s rooms.
He’d only stepped beyond their usual boundaries once, but the sights had left a vivid impression. Indoors or outdoors, every scene was burned into his memory.
Dark, eerie, desolate. Not a single flower in bloom. What made it worse was the complete lack of human presence—it had been downright creepy.
It can’t just be the two of them here.
The bedrooms were always spotless, and the food Ketir brought looked like it had been carefully prepared by someone who cared.
There was no way a man who carried dark circles deeper than a panda’s had the time or energy to cook.
Which meant someone else was doing it.
So where were they? And why hadn’t he seen any of them? The question sparked a flicker of curiosity.
Once the thought took root, he couldn’t shake it. His tail twitched, thumping softly against the desk. Eventually, he stood up.
“Ries?”
Ignoring Justyn’s voice, he hopped down and padded over to the side table—the one where the collar had been stored. He scratched at it insistently.
Like the good owner he was, Justyn came over and opened the drawer. Ries shoved his head inside so far he nearly tumbled in, and Justyn had to fish him out before pulling out the collar himself.
“You want to go outside?”
“Mrrrow.”
“Hm…”
His conflicted thoughts were obvious—even with his face hidden behind a mask, it somehow showed.
Justyn glanced back at his desk, which was still piled high with paperwork. With that mountain of unfinished work, there was no way he could tag along.
So he offered a compromise.
“…A walk, huh.”
“Yeah. Make sure he doesn’t get lost.”
“……”
And that’s how poor Ketir got roped in.
Summoned without warning, Ketir pinched the bridge of his nose in silent agony. It was clear he wanted to curse but was forcing himself to hold back—because the Duke had asked.
Still, Justyn didn’t have much of a choice. Ketir was one of the few people he could trust.
…Is this my fault?
Ries had, unintentionally, become the reason for Ketir’s sudden overtime. Pretending not to notice, he casually started grooming himself.
“…I’ll take over some of your work. Bring me half of what’s left.”
“…! I’ll be right back.”
Before Ries could even finish licking his paw, Ketir’s entire attitude changed.
It was like someone had flipped a switch. The dull gloom in his black eyes began to lift, replaced by something dangerously close to hope. …Best not to examine that too closely.
Still, everyone ended up getting what they wanted, didn’t they? So that made it a happy ending. Ries thought, quite shamelessly.
He got to go for a walk. Ketir dumped half his workload.
As for Justyn… well, he got more work…
Hmm.
Maybe not a happy ending after all. It felt like one person had taken on all the consequences. Ries’s long-dormant conscience gave a little twinge.
While Ketir left to fetch the paperwork, Ries kept an eye on Justyn—but the man looked completely unaffected.
Which made it even more suspicious.
That won’t do.
He might be a cat now and incapable of helping with actual work, but if there was one thing a pet could do, it was offer emotional support.
Without hesitation, he hopped back onto Justyn’s lap. He checked how much space was left on his thighs, gauged the perfect angle so he wouldn’t fall off, and—
