“…Uh.”
Justyn, uncharacteristically, stammered. The corners of his eyes—just barely visible—had flushed the same color as his irises.
Ries stared up at him. He didn’t know why, but Justyn looked genuinely happy. So, he kicked his legs a little more enthusiastically.
“Myak. Myak.”
He changed his mind.
It was annoying. It was a hassle. But it was fine. If this helped Justyn feel more confident, maybe more people would finally see him for who he truly was.
The chosen of a Spirit Beast? That had a nice ring to it. Ries wanted the people in the mansion to understand the kind of man Justyn was.
He wanted them to see the look in his eyes, to hear the way he whispered when he spoke. Justyn deserved that much.
Lending an ear—what’s so hard about that? Ries buried his face into Justyn’s chest. A wide, un-catlike grin stretched across his face.
***
Every morning, Ketir found himself locked in a silent standoff with Ries.
The cat would stare at him, completely still, radiating a ridiculous level of solemnity. But to human eyes, it just looked absurdly cute.
He paused, thinking back. When had this weird ritual even started? The day he’d told the Duke about the rumor that Ries might be a Spirit Beast? Or maybe even before that, when he’d been secretly observing him?
Whatever the case, one thing was certain.
He hates me.
Apparently, he’d gotten on this tiny cat’s nerves.
Ries had always been strange—so strange Ketir sometimes wondered if there really was a person trapped inside that little body. When that gut feeling turned into genuine suspicion, Ketir couldn’t help but watch him even more closely.
Clearly, Ries had noticed—and taken offense. Sensitive little thing.
Still, even though Ries was curt with Ketir, he never denied the man’s usefulness. On the contrary, he used him thoroughly.
Screaming for food, whining to be brushed, complaining that the Duke had too much work—he was a little tyrant, plain and simple.
In hindsight, Ketir had no idea why he ever doubted it. The way he obsessively guarded his food bowl? Classic Spirit Beast behavior.
But even so, he had no complaints.
This wasn’t how he’d imagined things would go, but somehow, this tiny cat had managed to completely change the atmosphere of the entire estate. A feat no one else had managed.
If that wasn’t a miracle befitting a Spirit Beast, what was? Sure, Ries got under his skin sometimes—but if things stayed like this, Ketir was willing to overlook the cat’s mischievous streak.
“You sulking again?”
“Kyaooong!”
Of course, that didn’t mean Ries was ready to forgive him.
Ketir dodged the incoming paw strike and moved toward his master. He half-lowered his eyelids, studying the Duke’s condition.
Good. Better than usual, even. Just look at him—eyes sparkling like he was watching his precious pet put on a show.
Anyone who knew Justyn Laufe would’ve been shocked speechless at the sight.
Ketir clicked his tongue quietly. He knew the news he was about to deliver would shatter this peaceful moment.
“There’s word from the temple. They’ll be arriving in three days.”
“…Hmm.”
Justyn’s gaze instantly hardened. His expression soured. And really, who could blame him?
Still in an awkward position with both hind legs stretched toward the ceiling, Ries froze mid-groom. He’d noticed the change in Justyn’s mood.
The temple?
Ah—now that he thought about it…
Sefiut had mentioned something about that once. He’d been grumbling, barely hiding his distaste.
—He gets regular treatments from a priest, but it doesn’t do much. And I hate that priest.
Yeah. That stuck in his memory. That little throwaway insult had made the whole thing unforgettable.
Sefiut had explained that Divine Power could suppress Justyn’s curse—somewhat. But it wasn’t a cure.
In other words, the best they could hope for was no change at all. Hardly what anyone would call good news.
And the priest who’d be coming to see Justyn was most likely—
Diana.
It had been a while since Ries had thought of her.
Golden hair that shone like sunlight, pink eyes as delicate and fresh as flower buds.
Ries flopped over mid-groom and lay flat. His tail began to thump steadily against the bed, betraying his mood.
Back when he’d lived as a dependent in the Marquess’s estate, he hadn’t disliked her. There’d been distance between them, but thanks to her, life there had been at least somewhat bearable.
But that was then. And this was now.
She spoke badly of Justyn.
He remembered it clearly—her voice trembling with tears as she clung to Chesif, saying Justyn was frightening, that he made her feel uneasy.
He could’ve let that be his first impression. If he hadn’t already known Justyn was a good person before learning her name, he might’ve believed her.
Ries unsheathed his claws and raked at a corner of the floor, his determination sharpening with every scrape.
If she tried to start something, he’d make sure she regretted it. He’d let it slide once—just once—for the sake of old ties.
But if she crossed the line again?
She was getting thrown out.
Ries had no problem making a scene.
“Grrrrr…”
“…?”
On his way out after delivering the report, Ketir flinched at the low, threatening growl echoing behind him. It sounded more like a wild beast than a cat. He turned around to find Ries glaring at him while sharpening his claws with solemn intensity.
…Wasn’t that the kind of noise a dog makes?
***
Three days after the message from the temple.
For the first time in ages, Justyn stepped foot on a floor that wasn’t his own. In his arms was one very fluffy, very smug-looking cat.
“…Ries.”
Once again, Justyn gave him a glance. Ries turned his head with a dramatic flick, pretending not to notice.
This chilly, almost-childish cold war had started over something absurdly petty. Justyn wanted to leave him behind. Ries had wanted to come along.
And in the end—because no pet owner ever really wins against their animal—Justyn gave in. He told him he could come, as long as he behaved. Ries had nodded without hesitation.
But it seemed Justyn was still uneasy. Every now and then, he’d glance down at him with a worried look in his eyes. Hopelessly doting.
Once they reached the drawing room, Ries leapt from his arms and dashed straight under the sofa.
“You can sit up here if you want.”
“Mrrrng.”
“You don’t want to?”
“Myak.”
This time, he just couldn’t give in to his master’s wishes. With Diana likely to show up at any moment, Ries had no interest in revealing himself—so long as she didn’t cross a line.
“Strawberry!”
Just imagining her calling him by that wretched name made him want to puke. Ugh. The thought alone was exhausting.
Justyn patted the seat beside him a few times, trying to coax his stubborn cat out, but failed completely. Once again, he surrendered to Ries’s will.
A few minutes passed. Just as Ries had finally found a comfortable position beneath the couch, a polite knock sounded at the door.
Knock knock.
The door opened, and a woman entered, her heels clicking smartly against the floor. From Ries’s vantage point, all he could see were her shoes—but that was enough. He knew exactly who they belonged to.
“…It’s been a while, Duke Laufe. Have you been well?”
Her voice was elegant, but tense. What had been a vague impression in his memory now came back into perfect clarity.
It was Diana.
She sat down across from Justyn. Her golden hair cascaded over her collarbone, and her pale face was drawn tight, lips pressed in a hesitant line.
Diana opened her mouth and fumbled for words.
“Then, um… shall we begin the treatment…?”
And just like that, the session began.
Ries didn’t take his eyes off them. What else could he do, holed up under the sofa?
He’d hoped that seeing Divine Power clash against the curse might reveal some kind of clue—something useful for breaking it…
But no. That was wishful thinking.
For all his effort, the next ten minutes were disappointingly uneventful.
Justyn removed his mask. Diana exhaled shakily, fear unmistakable in her breath. Warm Divine Power spread calmly through the room.
That was it.
A letdown, honestly.
If there was one thing that stood out, it was this:
The energy felt strangely familiar.
Not that it was anything shocking. Diana was from the Church of the Sea God, which worshiped Thalassa. Naturally, her Divine Power came from Thalassa.
And Ries—this body—had ties to Thalassa too. Whether strong or faint, the connection was real. Maybe their powers had resonated.
Even so…
“He scares me.”
“The Duke of Laufe definitely… has that kind of side. It’s not wrong to be wary.”
That wasn’t an excuse. Not even close.
Ries’s eyes flared with silent rage.
