Chapter 2 | Hunt or Be Hunted!

No matter the situation, Anna Gratskaya was always dry.

In carrying out my duties for the House, the thing I always paid attention to was the humidity within myself.

Because I constantly needed to mechanize myself. Like a precise clock that never falters.

Just as moisture causes precision machinery to rust, highly humid emotions only have a negative impact on my ability to function.

That’s why I consciously purged any damp elements from within me.

The irrational pangs of conscience thrust upon me in moments of life-or-death decisions. The fragility called sentiment, always trying to creep in through any opening.

I ensured that such foolish dampness wouldn’t rust the machine that is me.

If my mind and body couldn’t perform at their peak when needed, the only outcomes awaiting were mission failure—and death.

It was October of the year I turned thirteen.

In the slums of Ekaterinburg, a major Russian city, I was in a state of extreme malnutrition. I hadn’t bathed in over a week, and my hair and clothes were filthy, reeking of grime.

One day, as I sat by the roadside, grappling with hunger, a limousine screeched to a halt in front of me.

The middle-aged man inside was a prominent figure in Ekaterinburg’s underworld, a mafia boss. With a gentlemanly smile, he spoke to me, offering to take me in if I had no family.

Tears of gratitude streaming down my face, I clung to his plump, ugly hand—everything unfolding exactly as planned in this carefully orchestrated act.

My mission was to assassinate this man. He was a pedophilic pleasure killer who had preyed on countless girls in the past. I calculated everything and devised the perfect plan.

For five days, I refused all food to weaken myself, procuring clothes from a real vagrant. Posing as a pitiful, disposable target with nowhere to go, I approached him.

The security at the man’s mansion was formidable. Even an army wouldn’t have breached it through conventional means to reach the target.

After being fed a lavish meal, I was bathed and dressed up, then summoned to his bedroom that night.

The moment he revealed his true nature before me in my elegant dress, I turned him into a corpse in three seconds.

With the sharp heel of the gifted stiletto, I pierced the pressure point on his foot. As he crumpled, screaming, I slammed the sole into his face. The heel drove through his left eye socket into his brain. A swift end, almost too easy for the retribution his sins deserved, and he was sent straight to hell.

The bedroom, cleared of all staff in advance, posed no obstacles. I left without effort, slipped out of the mansion, and began my return.

Picked up by a waiting liaison, I boarded a prepared escape plane and returned to the House.

Back in my Children’s Room, I started my computer as usual and logged into an online game.

Yuki was waiting there. In this game, I could always talk to Yuki through avatars and voice chat. After speaking with him, the humidity that had built up inside me always dissipated, leaving me comfortably dry.

“Hey, Anya, welcome back. Looks like another flawless job, huh?”

“I’m back, Yuki.”

That day, as always, we exchanged casual banter.

Then, out of nowhere, I was asked a question I’d never heard before.

“By the way, Anya, do you like cats?”

An alarm jolted me awake.

Sliding my finger across the vibrating smartphone screen by my pillow, I disabled the snooze. Checking the date display, I realized it was Saturday.

My first weekend since arriving in this country.

“Right… no school on Saturdays.”

I glanced at the uniform hanging on the wall. No need to change into it today.

Rising from bed, I meticulously performed yoga and stretches to loosen every muscle and tendon in my body.

After about twenty minutes, sweat poured out. Then I moved on to Systema martial arts drills. Afterward, I showered, dried my body, slipped on fresh underwear, and pulled an oversized T-shirt over my head.

Then breakfast. From the fridge, I grabbed a 500ml carton of milk, one orange, one banana, two eggs, a pack of natto, a rough handful of vitamin supplements, and 200 grams of raw beef.

I tossed it all into the blender’s tumbler and flipped the switch.

The result was a murky brownish-pink liquid. Gripping the tumbler’s handle, I propped a hand on my hip and chugged it down. The taste was indistinct, but nutritionally, it was sound.

As if on cue, my smartphone pinged with a new message.

Koshka: Good morning, Anya. It’s nice and sunny today, isn’t it?

A message from Koshka.

I opened the curtains. Beyond the sash window, a brilliantly clear blue sky stretched out.

I’d been told Koshka was a resident of this town, and it seemed to be true.

Koshka: There’s a place I’d like you to visit today, Anya. It’s an essential cat spot in this town, one you can’t miss for daily operations.

Scanning Koshka’s message, I spotted an unfamiliar term.

Koshka: It’s the only cat café in the area, “Matsu-Neko-Tei.”

“A cat café…?”

For a moment, I pictured a cat lounging with a coffee cup in its paw. But that probably wasn’t it.

I searched for “cat café” on my browser.

Apparently, it’s a café where numerous cats roam freely. Humans, not cats, drink the coffee.

I struggled to grasp why such a place existed.

A room full of unpredictable creatures, free to wreak havoc at any moment. Just imagining it made me profoundly uncomfortable.

And animals in a dining space? Wouldn’t fur end up in your drink?

Koshka: It’s Saturday, and in Japan, most students are enjoying their day off. Follow their lead, Anya, and head into town. There’s an “Anya casual outfit set” in your closet. I’m sending you the target location, so change and get going. I’m counting on your success.

I wasn’t thrilled, but the word “mission” flipped a switch in me.

I opened the closet, which I hadn’t touched since moving in.

The so-called “Anya casual outfit set” came in two options.

One was a youthful skater style: a thick hoodie, a long T-shirt, denim shorts, knee-high socks, and comfy sneakers.

That was fine.

The problem was the other option.

“What… is this?”

A black-and-white maid outfit.

Not a formal one, either. It was clearly a frilly, decorative, gothic lolita-style piece, more hobby than practical. The skirt was inexplicably short.

You’d only see people wearing this at niche events or in some quirky Tokyo district.

Effectively, I had one real choice. I sent Koshka a complaint via message, but all I got was a politician’s noncommittal “we’ll look into it” response.

My trust in this collaborator plummeted. Bringing personal hobbies into a mission was the height of unprofessionalism.

I changed into the new outfit—obviously not the maid one—and left the room to carry out the mission.

The destination on Google Maps looked a bit far for walking. The nearest station was three stops away by private rail.

But “far” was relative to everyday life. A 20-to-30-minute walk was no issue for my stamina.

As I debated heading to the station or walking straight to the destination—

“—!”

My heart gave an irregular thud.

Sudden, unnatural pain flared across my body.

The cause was obvious: the activation of the killer virus inside me, The Oath Lurking in Blood. Its incubation period varied wildly—two days to a week—making it impossible to predict or prepare for. The last cat allergy reaction was two days ago. I’d let my guard down, thinking I had time.

“This is bad…!”

Once the virus activated, I had ten minutes to administer a suppressant, or I’d die.

But having left the organization, I had no suppressant on hand. The only way to survive was exposure to cat-derived allergens.

Of all times for this to happen—

Getting to the cat café in ten minutes was impossible without a car.

I dashed to the main road, hoping to flag a taxi.

But it was Saturday morning, and traffic was sparse. Not a single taxi in sight.

“Tch…!”

I mentally searched Koshka’s list of nearby cat hotspots. There was a park a few minutes’ walk from my apartment.

Should I turn back and head there? But there was no guarantee I’d find a stray cat.

Or stay here and bet on a taxi passing in the next few minutes?

I stood at the crossroads of life and death.

Clutching the guardrail, I fought to steady my pain-wracked legs. My mind raced, searching for a way to survive.

Then, my ears caught the sound of an approaching engine.

Glancing back, I saw a car speeding toward me, its silhouette glinting sharply in the low morning sun—a roadster-style sports car.

Its distinctive design featured large, oval headlights and a sleek, curved body painted a chic dark green. A Lotus Elise. Definitely not a taxi.

But in this emergency, I needed a ride, by force if necessary…!

Leaning over the guardrail, I frantically waved at the approaching dark green car.

To my relief, the Lotus slowed and stopped precisely at the curb in front of me.

The driver-side window rolled down, revealing the face of the driver in the right-hand-drive seat.

“Oh? Aren’t you…?”

The driver was a young woman I recognized.

Kurisako Akira, a part-time clerk at the drugstore near the station.

She wore sunglasses, but it was definitely her. She seemed to recognize me too.

“Sorry, but could you take me to a place I’ll name? I’ll pay you.”

Despite dizziness and searing pain, I raised my voice to make the request.

“That’s right, Anya-chan! You’re in a hurry, huh? Sure, hop in!”

With a smile, Akira opened the passenger door as if it were no trouble at all. Narrowly escaping death, I tumbled into the two-seater’s passenger seat.

“So, milady, where are we headed?”

“Matsu-Neko-Tei, a cat café in Kizutsuki Town. Ten minutes… no, as fast as possible. Can we make it?”

Concealing my labored breathing, I relayed the destination. Akira nodded, stepped on the gas, and the Lotus Elise roared back onto the road.

“Got it. I know that place—I’m a regular. I know a shortcut, and the roads are clear this morning. Should take less than five minutes… Also, how lucky is it that I get to drive with Anya-chan? The weather’s so nice, I just went for a spin, and it was worth it!”

Gripping the wheel, Akira glanced at me with a grin.

“You’re saving me here. I’d like to pay you… what’s the going rate for this?”

As I reached for my wallet, Akira waved me off.

“No need, I’m not a taxi. Honestly, having a cute girl like you next to me is… well, it brightens my mood! I should be thanking you.”

She almost said something else but corrected herself, laughing brightly. Then she studied my face again.

“By the way, you’ve looked pretty rough since earlier… you okay?”

“I’m fine, no problem.”

I was certain my face showed no trace of pain, yet her perceptiveness was uncanny.

That faint unease I’d felt at the drugstore resurfaced.

This woman, Kurisako Akira… who is she really?

I knew she was a drugstore clerk, but something about her stood out, nagging at my instincts.

Take this car, for instance.

I wasn’t sure of the price, but a British luxury sports car like this probably cost nearly ten million yen. It felt disproportionate to a part-timer’s wages. Sure, she could be a car enthusiast pouring all her money into it, but still…

As I mulled this over to stay conscious, I endured the spreading pain and irregular heartbeat.

“Here we are!”

As Akira announced, we reached the destination in under five minutes.

Surprisingly, it was a regular residential area. A cat café in a place like this?

“You can get out now.”

Akira parked the Lotus in a paid lot and urged me out, stepping out herself.

Struggling to control my unsteady legs, I followed her lead.

She headed toward a large, clearly older house, distinct from the surrounding buildings.

Unlike modern prefab homes, it was built entirely of natural timber, its wood darkened by age, like a cultural heritage temple.

A navy-blue noren curtain hung over the sliding door, with white text and a cat silhouette reading Traditional House Cat Café Matsu-Neko-Tei. This was undoubtedly the place.

Akira slipped off her shoes at the entrance and stepped onto the wooden corridor.

At the reception counter sat a friendly-looking middle-aged woman. I followed Akira’s lead.

“Oh, Kurisako-san, welcome! Is this your friend?”

“Yup, picked her up on the way. She was too cute to leave behind!”

“Oh my, not a kitty, are you? But wow, you’re stunning, young lady. If you were a cat, you’d be a Ragdoll, maybe a Chartreux or Russian Blue—such refined elegance!”

The woman’s leisurely, cheerful tone stirred a strange sense of déjà vu.

Akira showed a card and got it stamped. She was indeed a regular here.

“Anya-chan, is an hour okay for today?”

“Yeah… that’s fine.”

“Alright, ma’am, one adult, one student, one-hour course. And can you make a membership card for her?”

“Got it, a membership card. Now, miss, what’s your name?”

“I’m Anna Gratskaya—Akira, I’ll pay for myself.”

“No, no, it’s on me. We’re here by fate, so let me treat you. You’re a student—take advantage of us working folks!”

“Sorry, dear, I’m bad with katakana names. Could you write it yourself here?”

“Understood—thanks, Akira. I’ll accept your kindness.”

I quickly signed the membership card, but my mind was on finding cats. I had a little time before the ten-minute limit, but I wanted relief from the pain now.

“The cats… where are the cats?”

“My, my, you really love kitties, don’t you? Right this way.”

Misinterpreting my frantic glances, the woman smiled warmly.

“Here you go, this way.”

Following her down a glossy amber corridor, we reached a sliding glass door.

Beyond it was a spacious twelve-tatami-mat room. Wooden cat towers and walkways, likely handmade, lined the walls and ceiling—

“Ha… hachoo!”

Nearly ten cats lounged or played with each other across the room.

“Kshh, kshh!”

Intense itching surged in my eyes and nose, triggering sneezes. Tears welled, and red hives bloomed on my skin.

“Wait, Anya-chan, you’re allergic to cats? Are you okay?”

Akira looked mildly surprised at my reaction.

Meanwhile, the cat allergy response freed me from the deadly pain. My fading heartbeat revived. The itching was nothing compared to the refreshing relief.

“No problem.”

Wiping my nose with a tissue, I replied.

“Okay, good. Some people love cats despite allergies… Here’s the menu. You order drinks first.”

I took the menu board from Akira. It listed typical café fare: coffee, tea, juices.

Akira ordered hot chamomile tea, and I chose a hot cappuccino.

Sitting on cushions, we watched the furry creatures go about their business. Most ignored us, each absorbed in their own whims.

One dozed lazily in a hammock on the cat tower.

Another waddled aimlessly, tail up, with no apparent purpose.

A pair wrestled on the tatami, curled like ammonites.

Some gazed at us bipedal apes with condescending eyes, as if we were lesser beings… Not one cat did the same thing.

Among them, one cat took interest and approached. A calico with a black mustache-like mark above its mouth.

It targeted my crossed legs on the cushion, sniffing eagerly with its pink nose.

It felt like it was judging my feet for smelling, stirring a subtle, embarrassed pressure.

“Chobi-chan seems curious about you, Anya-chan. Cats can tell who likes them… That one might let you hold it. Why not give it a try?”

Akira smiled, completely misunderstanding. I wasn’t a cat lover, and I had no interest in holding it.

But having my feet sniffed endlessly was awkward, so I scooped its soft belly with both hands.

In that instant, the calico slipped through my hands like jelly, despite my firm grip.

It landed silently on the tatami and sauntered off.

…What was that impossible flexibility? A slime?

“Haha, Chobi-chan didn’t like that. That hold hurts cats. Try slipping your arm under their front legs and supporting their butt with your other hand.”

“It’s trickier than it looks…”

Apparently, this calico was named Chobi.

As the woman mentioned, cats come in various breeds, colors, and, presumably, personalities. Names are necessary for identification.

Naming it Chobi for its mustache-like mark felt a bit simplistic, though.

“But do cats even have skeletons? They curl, stretch, and morph into any shape…”

“They say cats are liquid, right? Their bodies are built that way—lots of joints, organs that shift freely, so they can slip through tight spaces.”

Akira explained, petting another cat nearby.

“I didn’t know Akihiro was a cat lover.”

Come to think of it, since he’s a regular here, it makes perfect sense.

Not just Akihiro, but the demand for cats in this country must be pretty high in general. Otherwise, a quirky place like a cat café would never have caught on.

Russians have a reputation for being obsessed with cats, but it feels like the Japanese aren’t far behind.

“Yeah, everyone loves cats. But my favorite might be the strays living bravely out in the wild.”

Akihiro’s eyes, gazing at the cats, are so gentle and warm. It’s a stark contrast to his cool, enigmatic appearance, and watching him makes my chest feel a little fluttery.

Just as that restlessness stirs, someone enters the room.

A girl in a plain sweatshirt and jeans, with a homely apron tied on.

In her hands is a tray holding the cappuccino I ordered and a glass teapot filled with Akihiro’s chamomile tea.

“Sorry for the wait… huh?”

The girl’s eyes widen as she spots us.

“Anya! Akihiro-san, you’re here too?”

The one bringing our drinks is my classmate, Matsukaze Kohana.

She seems surprised to see me, but honestly, I’m just as shocked.

“Kohana, you work here part-time?”

“Uh, well, it’s more like… helping out at home, I guess?”

“Helping out?”

“Hehe, sorry for keeping it a secret, Anya-chan. This ‘Matsu-Neko-Tei’ is actually Kohana-chan’s family business.”

Akihiro, who’s been watching us with a sly grin, lets out a mischievous chuckle.

Apparently, he orchestrated this little moment of surprise. Well played, I’ve been had.

And if this cat café is run by Kohana’s family, then…

“Wait, does that mean the woman at the front desk earlier was…?”

“Yup, that’s my mom!”

That explains the sense of déjà vu. The woman’s gentle demeanor and laid-back way of speaking are just like Kohana’s.

“I see, so that’s how it is…”

Kohana once mentioned having a dozen or so cats at home. That matches the number of cats here at the café, more or less.

“My mom, dad, and grandma all live together, and our whole family is crazy about cats. Opening a cat café was my mom’s dream. Our house is old but super spacious, so we decided to turn it into the shop.”

Recognizing their owner, Kohana, the cats start gathering around her. We sip our drinks, watching her handle them like a mother of a big family.

I always thought cats were hyper-vigilant creatures, but the ones here are ridiculously friendly, completely unafraid of humans.

Seeing them act so spoiled, rolling over to show their bellies, feels like they’re an entirely different species from the cats I imagined.

As I’m lost in thought, something heavy suddenly flops against my hip.

I glance back cautiously…

“Wha—”

There, sprawled out like a seal, is a massive cat, casually resting its head on my butt.

“Oh? Mo-san, coming down from the second floor? That’s rare. Maybe the nice weather’s got him in a good mood.”

The cat’s long, fluffy fur is white with black splotches, almost like a cow from a pasture.

“This guy’s the oldest at Matsu-Neko-Tei, isn’t he? Nice going, Anya-chan, he’s taken a liking to you.”

“Well… thanks to him, I can’t move. Honestly, it’s a bit of a hassle.”

The cow-patterned giant is grooming itself, leaning its full weight against me. If I stand up, it’ll lose its support and probably tumble over.

Not that I’m obligated to keep my butt in place, but for some reason, I feel like I have to. It’s like I’ve become its servant or something.

“Hehe, even the cool beauty Anya-chan’s at the mercy of a cat’s pace… Did you know? They say cats are secretly the rulers of this planet. Humans are just their slaves.”

“What? No way that’s…”

Akihiro continues, sipping his teacup while I stare at him skeptically.

“There’s this short sci-fi story where aliens see the relationship between humans and cats and assume that’s how it works. It’s by a writer named Hoshi Shinichi.”

The mention of novels reminds me of the stack of cat-themed books sent by Koshka for my assignment. I’m supposed to read them and write reports.

The supposed goal was to deepen my understanding of cats for my own survival, but after this morning’s maid outfit fiasco, I’m starting to doubt that. Maybe Koshka is just a cat fanatic.

“Hm… maybe it’s my imagination, but my itchiness and stuffy nose seem to be calming down.”

“Mo-san’s a Siberian, you know. They’re said to be a breed that’s less likely to trigger cat allergies.”

His fur is noticeably fluffier and longer than the others. I pull out my phone to look up Siberians.

“Siberian Forest Cat—huh, a breed from Russia?”

In Russian, it’s Sibirskaya Koshka—literally, Siberian cat. Some say they evolved long fur to adapt to cold climates.

“His ancestors are from your homeland, Anya-chan. Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you?”

“Most of our cats are rescues—picked up injured or adopted from shelters or rehoming events… but Mo-san was a pet shop leftover. Maybe his pattern didn’t look ‘exotic’ enough? He was over a year old, still stuck in a cage at the shop… My dad felt sorry for him and brought him home.”

“I see… pet shops mostly sell tiny kittens, don’t they? You’re lucky, Mo-chan.”

Kohana and Akihiro exchange words softly, gazing at the cow-patterned cat with a touch of sentiment.

A question pops into my head, and I voice it.

“What happens to the grown cats that don’t get sold at pet shops? Do the staff take them in? Or do they go back to the breeder?”

It’s a simple, innocent question, no ulterior motive.

But Kohana’s eyes suddenly cloud with a hint of sorrow.

“Some shops might try to find homes for them… but it seems like some cats end up with nowhere to go.”

It’s Akihiro who answers.

He lets out a small sigh, leaving the rest unsaid, as if reluctant to voice it.

“So, Anya?”

Breaking the heavy silence, Kohana turns to me with a bright voice.

“When Mo-san first came to our house, I was still a baby. They say I used to pull his whiskers or grab his tail, doing all the things cats hate. But maybe I thought I was being a big sister? He never got mad and always stayed by my side. He’s such a sweet boy.”

Kohana beams, petting the relaxed, cow-patterned cat leaning against me as she shares their story.

“Hey, Anya-chan, wanna try playing with the cats using a toy?”

Akihiro stands up abruptly, grabbing two cat wands from a nearby corner and handing one to me.

It’s a thin plastic stick with a soft, fuzzy core and a fluttering tuft, vaguely resembling a stalk of wheat.

“Like this—give it a little shake…”

Akihiro demonstrates, waving the wand slightly at one of the cats. The tuft sways enticingly.

The cat locks onto it instantly, as if nothing else exists, crouching low in a hunting stance, tail twitching, ready to pounce.

“Here we go!”

Akihiro swings the wand sharply, and the cat leaps at it with ferocious speed.

He swirls the wand across the tatami floor, mimicking a scurrying mouse. The cat, pupils blown wide, chases it with single-minded focus.

“Give it a try, Anya!”

“Uh… alright.”

Urged by Kohana, I wave the wand in front of Mo’s face.

But the old cat, buried in his fluffy fur, merely glances at it before letting out a massive yawn, as if mocking me.

“Mo-san’s too old to care about toys anymore… How about Latte-chan over there?”

Kohana points to a small cat licking its fur nearby, a light brown tabby the color of milky tea. Following her suggestion, I wiggle the wand in its line of sight.

In that instant, a black cat lunges from the side.

“Whoa!?”

Caught off guard by the sudden ambush, I freeze. Ignoring my shock, the black cat grabs the wand with both paws, chomping down on it eagerly.

“Haha! Kiki-chan stole it from you, Latte-chan!”

The black cat, Kiki, is clearly hyped up. Flipping onto her back, she clutches the wand with all four limbs, kicking and biting with wild enthusiasm. Her strength nearly yanks it from my grip.

“Tch, what a grip…!”

I tug back, refusing to lose to a cat, and the plastic wand bends sharply. It’s like I’m fishing or something.

“Take this!”

Relaxing my body, I channel a sharp twist through my right arm, syncing my shoulder, elbow, and wrist in one fluid motion. My arm spins like a drill, using a technique derived from Chinese martial arts’ Tenshikei.

The black cat, clinging to the wand, is flung into the air with a pop.

“Nya!?”

The cat-like yelp comes not from the cat but from Kohana.

Kiki lands on the tatami with a thud, looking bewildered. But she quickly remembers the wand and charges again. So fast…!

“Not so fast!”

Still seated, I dodge sideways with a quick leap.

But Kiki’s no ordinary foe—she pivots at an impossible angle, kicking off the tatami and launching at me like a bullet, faster than any fighter I’ve ever faced.

“Ha!”

Dropping to my knees, I arch backward dramatically, like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix. The acrobatic dodge sends Kiki sailing over me, and for a moment, I’m sure I’ve won—

But mid-air, Kiki curls into a ball, snatching the wand with all four limbs. Her momentum and weight nearly rip the handle from my hand.

“Impossible!?”

What…!

The legendary agility and reflexes of a Japanese ninja, wasted on an obsessive chase for a toy.

This is a cat… my enemy?

“Tch… a stalemate again!”

As I focus every nerve on this cat-fishing duel, I catch Akihiro’s gaze on me from the corner of my eye.

“What?”

“You’re so serious about everything, Anya-chan, throwing yourself into it completely. It’s unfair how you’re this perfect cool beauty but act so innocent and adorable.”

“Unfair, you say…?”

My life has been a string of moments where a single mistake could mean death.

That’s why I have to focus and take everything seriously. That’s all there is to it.

“That wholehearted side of you feels kinda like a cat, you know? Cats are always all-in, whether they’re eating or playing.”

Akihiro says this with a smile, watching me.

Distracted for a split second, my grip loosens, and Kiki snatches the wand away.

…Me, like that infuriating, unpredictable little monster?

“Oh, yeah! I totally get that! Anya’s super cat-like!”

“What, even you, Kohana!?”

The sheer indignity makes my blood boil.

There’s no way I’m anything like those lazy, aloof creatures who show zero gratitude for human kindness, whose very state of matter—liquid or solid—is a mystery, an unpredictable tiny beast.

“That’s it!”

“What’s that?”

Swallowing my outrage, I meet Kohana’s sparkling gaze.

“The first time I saw you, I hoped we’d meet again. Now I know why.”

She narrows her eyes and smiles.

Like a tiny flower blooming, just as her name suggests.

“I’ve loved cats since I was a kid, so of course I’d end up liking you too, since you’re so cat-like, right?”

Her blunt declaration of liking me carries a weight different from her usual casual remarks.

Her smile hits me like a bullet through the heart.

A pure, white flower that only blooms in sunlight, suddenly offered to me.

Her smile carries nothing but genuine affection, conveyed through some instinct beyond reason.

Even though the threat of a deadly virus is gone, my heart races uncontrollably, and I have no way to stop it.

I have no emotional tools to counter this unfamiliar attack. On a battlefield, I’d have been long dead, standing frozen like this.

So, I…

“Sorry, I just remembered something urgent. I’m heading out for today.”

I retreat swiftly from this unknown threat.

To keep my emotions from being overtaken by this vague feeling.

To keep my inner self steady and dry.

Because Anna Gratskaya must always remain composed.

“Alright, see you later, Anya-chan.”

“Monday at school! Thanks for coming today!”

Turning my back on Kohana’s waving hand, I leave Matsu-Neko-Tei alone.

Кошка: ‘How was your first visit to a cat café? The friendliness of café cats is something special. It’s arguably the best environment for learning about cat behavior up close, short of owning one yourself.’

That night.

After my bath, a message from Koshka pops up on my phone.

It’s true—my perception of cats has shifted dramatically. The culture shock from today alone is no small thing.

Until now, my idea of a cat was basically a stray.

I thought they were wary, bolting at the speed of light if a human got close. But the cats at the Matsukaze family’s café were the opposite.

They approach humans to satisfy their boundless curiosity or boredom. That side of cats was completely new to me.

Кошка: ‘Eventually, Anya, you’ll need to own a cat yourself. Use today’s experience as practice for that.’

“What…?”

I freeze, stunned by Koshka’s next message.

Own a cat…?

Me?

“Impossible!”

I shout instantly.

Even storming an impregnable enemy fortress never felt this impossible.

Living with a creature whose thought process is so incomprehensible, let alone taming it—

It’s like being told to sign a peace treaty with an alien species at the edge of the universe.

I tap the virtual keyboard, ready to protest to Koshka.

“—”

A prickling sensation hits the back of my head—someone’s gaze.

Six o’clock. Behind me.

Beyond the glass sliding door, the dark spring night stretches across the balcony. The source of the gaze is out there.

I’m on the second floor of a five-story apartment. Whoever’s on the balcony either climbed up from the ground or down from the roof—an intruder bypassing the front door.

An assassin—likely sent by Domik.

Their relentless pursuit, refusing to let even the slimmest chance of my survival slip by, is exactly like that ruthless organization.

Without turning, I pinpoint the gaze’s position by instinct alone.

The intruder has me locked in their sights. Within a second, a fatal shot will come.

I dive sideways without warning, dropping to the floor. Planting one hand, I spin into a cartwheel and spring up.

The counterattack motion, completed in under a second, should make me vanish from their line of sight.

Compressing every muscle like a coiled spring, I prepare to charge the enemy on the balcony.

“Wha—”

Another shock hits me, the umpteenth today, as I lock eyes with the ‘enemy.’

That species, always delivering surprises beyond my expectations.

Beyond the glass door is a single cat.

It walks along the balcony’s narrow railing, never missing a step with its four paws.

Its head tilts deftly, staring at me inside the room.

It’s not a large cat.

Its fur is split into two distinct colors, a tortoiseshell pattern like the ones at Kohana’s café. But while those were black and white, this one is brown and white.

Most of its body is covered in a rich, toasted brown, like freshly fried piroshki.

The brown splits at the forehead, curving along the nose to the back of its head, like a mask exposing only the mouth, reminiscent of Batman.

The fur from its nose, mouth, throat, chest, and belly, down to the tips of its four paws, is pure white.

The white reminds me of the soft, fluffy dough inside a piroshki, especially at the paws, which look like they’re wearing tiny white socks.

Thinking of food reminds me I’m starving. My empty stomach growls loudly.

No way it heard that through the glass, but the cat’s triangular ears twitch. Its almond-shaped yellow eyes stay fixed on me.

A cat’s gaze feels eerily human-like. No wonder my instincts mistook it for an enemy.

“Are you… hungry too?”

Looking at that oddly human-like face, I couldn’t help but want to talk to it, even though I knew it wouldn’t understand a word.

Naturally, the cat beyond the window didn’t respond at all. A wave of embarrassment hit me, and my face grew hot.

“Ah…”

The cat turned its gaze away from me, facing forward again, and trotted gracefully along the balcony railing.

As if it had completely forgotten my existence, its elegant steps showed no hesitation.

A strange sense of defeat crept into my heart. In the end, I’d just been toyed with by the passing of a single cat.

“Still, to think it would come through a place like this…”

Even if it’s only the second floor of an apartment building, they really are nimble creatures.

I fiddled with the smartphone still in my hand and sent a message to Koshka. For now, I’d report the details of what just happened.

Koshka: So, did you pet that cat? Give it some food or anything?

I replied that we’d only locked eyes for a few seconds before parting ways, and as expected, the response came back immediately.

Koshka: You’ve got a long way to go, Anya. It would’ve been perfect if you’d just taken that cat in right then and there.

As I thought, Koshka is dead set on making me keep a cat.

When I firmly refused again, an instant reply shot back without missing a beat.

Koshka: It goes without saying that the only thing currently effective against the suicide virus is an allergen derived from cats. Moreover, as we saw today, outbreaks are always sudden. From a security standpoint, keeping a cat—the ultimate antidote—on hand is the ideal situation. Do your best.

Staring at the string of high-minded reasoning, I found myself caught by a sudden suspicion.

After seeing that maid outfit this morning, it’s only natural I’d start thinking this way.

Could it be that this whole “cat obsession” is just a quirk of Koshka’s personal taste?

“Phew… I’ll agree with just one thing, though.”

Letting out a deep sigh, I slid the window open with a rattle.

Stepping onto the balcony, I saw no trace of the cat from earlier.

In its place, as if to greet me, a pale moon floated in the flat, dark sky.

“Yeah, the road ahead does seem long.”

Me, owning a cat—the most unimaginable future I could picture.

Thinking of how far that reality felt, I let a second sigh drift into the moonlit night.

“Yuki…”

The chill of the breeze brought back memories of something that happened just a week ago.

It was the encounter with a single cat that changed my fate—and that of my friend, Yuki Petrisheva.