Chapter 11
Just before dawn, Süleyman slowly opened his eyes.
‘Where is this…?’
He could remember having a meeting yesterday, stopping by his office afterward, and then suddenly having a seizure. After that, it seemed he’d somehow managed to walk back to his room on his own two feet.
He vaguely remembered shouting something and pushing away the attendants and guards who tried to support him just before losing consciousness.
Then he must have blacked out.
“Ugh…”
He pressed his head because of the pain and tried to get up, and noticed a warm, small furry bundle leaning against his forearm.
It was the kitten that had recently been staying in his room.
‘…This is the first time I’ve seen it so close.’
It had been a week since they’d started living together in his room. He still hadn’t grown especially fond of the new housemate, but seeing the little round creature inspired a mild curiosity.
The kitten, so sleepy it had its pink belly exposed and seemed nearly passed out, looked more like a cute toy than a living thing.
Still, since it clung to his arm and wouldn’t let go, it was definitely alive.
He tried to nudge the sleeping cat with his finger to move it, but instead of falling off it hugged his forearm tight like a pillow.
“Huh.”
He hadn’t even shown it any kindness after bringing it here — why was it sticking to him like this?
Contrary to that rational thought, the corners of Süleyman’s mouth lifted slightly.
He didn’t dislike the soft, warm feel of the kitten’s fur against his skin. Actually, to be honest, he rather liked it.
“Mmnyaang.”
The kitten, fast asleep, purred and smacked its lips as if savoring something delicious in a dream.
Süleyman smiled and reached out to stroke it gently.
The kitten wrinkled its nose and mewed, shifting its body.
Süleyman paused for a moment, then scratched its chin when its breathing steadied.
Seeing the cat’s satisfied expression, Süleyman covered his mouth with his lips.
‘…This is strangely addictive.’
No wonder royalty and nobles were crazy about cats — they must have this charm.
In that kingdom, a legend and folk belief held that the goddess Ashtar, protector of the realm, manifested in the form of a cat. Raising a cherished companion cat was seen as closely linked to receiving the goddess’s favor.
Blue-eyed cats were popular even among commoners as living talismans—“nazar boncuğu” that warded off evil and brought good luck.
Süleyman, who despised prophecy and sorcery, couldn’t understand any of that.
He tucked a blanket over the contentedly purring kitten and looked around the room.
Cursed at age ten with a malediction that remained effective until his death, Süleyman’s body had been weakening little by little.
A dark energy, slowly growing inside his body and mind, acted like a parasite: usually dormant, but it surfaced unexpectedly.
This was one such incident.
When he had intermittent seizures, two main phenomena typically appeared.
One was paralysis that occurred when the curse’s energy tried to seize his body, especially his heart.
The other was a mental phenomenon — a sudden desire to destroy everything around him.
This time it had been the first type: the curse’s energy attacking his body. It had come on far more abruptly than usual, which had frightened even him.
Because he’d been feeling unwell lately, he’d consulted Aziz, who’d said, optimistically, that “the curse is reacting to the cat,” and that it was a positive sign.
When Süleyman had asked if he was sure it was really okay because his condition looked bad, Aziz had smiled faintly and said:
‘You may be a bit sickly, but with the cat here it’s unlikely to be fatal. Take heart.’
Indeed, it wasn’t fatal, he murmured to himself, and ground his teeth.
Aziz, who lived far longer than ordinary humans, didn’t understand human suffering well. Nobody knew exactly when he had become the sultan’s sorcerer.
He had been young already when Süleyman was very small, and his face hadn’t changed since. Süleyman didn’t like Aziz much.
When his father, the previous sultan, was alive, Aziz had always been at his father’s side; now he stuck to his mother like a shadow. Süleyman had once suspected him of whispering silly things into his parents’ ears and plotting odd schemes.
So far Aziz hadn’t shown any sinister intent, but Süleyman couldn’t shake the unease.
There was no reason to feel affection for an immortal being whose origins in the palace were unknown.
That was why he’d been displeased when, on his mother Hurem the sultan’s orders, Aziz had brought the little kitten to the palace.
“…But I suppose you helped me.”
Unlike usual, his seizure had subsided quickly, and the kitten had probably had a lot to do with that.
He glanced at the ruffled side of the bed and saw the sheet torn to shreds.
Judging by the tearing, it was obvious the small kitten clinging to his forearm had done it.
Had it tried to climb onto the bed with its tiny body?
The fragile kitten looked like it would fall apart if he gripped it too hard. The thought that it had scrambled over to him, alarmed by his seizure, made him feel odd.
“You’re foolish, aren’t you.”
He ran his thumb over the kitten’s forehead; it let out a short “nyaang” and gave him a sulky look that somehow made it adorable.
This feeling was strange.
He had never once felt animals were cute or pitiable before.
‘…Maybe I’m getting foolish myself,’ he muttered inwardly and drifted back to sleep under the blanket.
When I woke up to the glittering morning sunlight, I pawed my dry eyelids and yawned.
I’d slept like someone had tucked me in — a deep, honeyed sleep. I dreamed I’d eaten until I burst with all sorts of delicious dishes, and it felt so vivid.
While I was savoring the memory of the juicy, springy meat I’d last chewed, I suddenly noticed a pair of bright red eyes studying me from less than thirty centimeters away.
“NYAANG!” (Gah, you scared me!)
Startled, I kicked the blanket off with my front paw and dove under the pillow, trembling.
‘When did you wake up?!’
If you’re awake, make a sound! It’s rude to stare like that at someone — no, at a sleeping cat.
“You can’t hide by covering only your face. You’re ridiculous.”
Süleyman pressed my side, where my face had been buried in a soft pillow.
“Hmm, so squishy.”
No — don’t touch there…!!
Someone poking the soft bulge of my side felt unbearably humiliating.
My nose flared hot, and I pulled my head out from the blanket and lunged at him.
“NYAANG…!!” (Take that…!!)
I swatted his fingers with my front paw and, while he was off guard, bit his forearm hard.
Despite my triumphant combo, Süleyman only chuckled.
He had just let me bite him like an obedient cat, then opened his mouth.
“You kept biting me even while sleeping. You must like biting quite a bit.”
…Excuse me? Did I hear that wrong?
I reflexively released my bite and stared in disbelief.
There were several clear cat-bite marks on his thick forearm — marks I was certain I had left.
Too shocked to do anything, I alternated between looking at the marks and his face.
‘Me? Did I really do that?’
I threw myself at him, flailed my paws and gestured wildly until he laughed and sat up on the bed.
“Do you think some other cat left these marks? You’re the only cat I have.”
Hearing him call me “my cat,” my heart dropped and leapt in my chest at once.
‘You foolish heart, stop it!! Now is not the time!’
I’d saved the person who nearly had a heart attack yesterday, and now apparently he thought I was strange.
While I was trying to cool my face with the jelly pads of my paws, Süleyman began taking off his clothes one by one.
‘I can’t bear to look…!’
I stopped trying to calm my cheeks and covered my eyes with both paws, screaming inside.
“Are you embarrassed? You’re a strange cat.”
…That might be your perspective, but—
For me, a normal human woman, spending the night in bed with a man I wasn’t even that close to felt awkward.
‘Didn’t Aziz tell him that my true form is human…?’
Judging from the way Süleyman still seemed to regard me as “a cat that understands people,” it seemed likely he hadn’t been told.
‘He’s teasing me. That rotten man.’
Shivering at the thought of Aziz, I watched Süleyman throw on a light garment and ring for attendants.
He preferred not to have people waiting on him at night, but he accepted help in the morning.
With his hair pulled back and a black, form-fitting uniform on, he looked far more mature than usual.
He finished preparing to leave and fastened a long scimitar curved like a crescent moon to his waist.
“…Take good care of the house.”
He glanced at me before leaving the room, turned, and stepped outside.
Left alone on the bed, I stared blankly at the door through which he’d disappeared.
That day, I mulled over Süleyman’s morning behavior as Arin and I went out for a walk.
Even though he’d been saved to protect him, I thought he’d be upset simply at having shared a bed.
But Süleyman hadn’t seemed particularly displeased.
‘I thought he disliked cats. Maybe that’s not the case…?’
He usually only glared or ignored me whenever our eyes met, so I’d assumed he was allergic to cats and chalked it up to that.
But today he looked like someone who’d just adopted a cat for the first time: awkward, but attentive in his own way.
“Your Highness the Cat, this place is new to you, right? The palace is so big you might get lost on a walk — please follow me closely.”
“Meow.” (Okay.)
When I nodded as if agreeing, Arin hugged me tight, looking ecstatic.
“You’re so clever. You even understand speech so well!”
“Haak, nyaang.” (Arin, you’re smothering me.)
“You really are so intelligent. Sometimes you even feel like a person, you know?”
…That’s because I am a person. And besides, I’m older than you — much older.
