Chapter 6
“They say she’s in perfect health—it’s hard to believe she was picked up off the street!”
Artif stared fixedly at Allen, who was reporting the results of Shasha’s checkup.
“Ah, but they did say she’s far too thin, probably from not eating much outside. I also received a list of foods that are good for cats. Would you like to check it yourself?”
To be exact, Artif wasn’t really looking at Allen—he was staring at Allen’s clothes, which were covered in silver fur.
“Did you roll around with my cat or something?”
Allen froze, startled by the duke’s sudden words.
“Eh…?”
The unexpected question left him dumbfounded.
“In my bedroom, with my Shasha, just the two of you—what exactly did you do to end up in that state?”
The phrasing was terribly suggestive. Allen was so shocked he couldn’t find words.
Anyone overhearing might have thought he was being accused of an affair with a nonexistent duchess.
“Not answering—does that mean you admit your guilt?”
“N-no, of course not!”
Allen managed to keep his composure despite the high-handed interrogation.
“I did not roll around in your bed with your… your wife—no, I mean, with Shasha!”
He was mortified. Yes, his clothes were a little disheveled, but there was a perfectly good reason for it.
Shasha had resisted Geoffrey’s examination violently, thrashing as though in a fit.
Allen had been sweating bullets just trying to hold her steady to help.
“And yet it still took you quite a while, considering you claim it was only a checkup.”
“Well, as Your Grace surely knows, Shasha is rather… temperamental, so it couldn’t be helped.”
“Are you telling me, to my face, that my cat has a bad personality?”
Artif’s eyes glinted dangerously.
Apparently he had forgotten that he had been the one to complain about her temperament before.
“……Of course not. What other cat could be as angelic as Shasha?”
Artif sighed in dissatisfaction, then seized on another excuse to nitpick.
“Then what’s with all that fur stuck to your clothes? Did you decide to examine her yourself instead of the vet?”
“Oh—that’s because the vet gave me a brush.”
“……?”
The duke, who had been glaring darkly until now, suddenly widened his eyes in shock.
“…So you brushed her?”
“Yes. At first she resisted a lot, but after a while she seemed to like it and stayed still.”
Artif’s face froze in disbelief.
“Her fur was so soft—”
Allen, who had been speaking enthusiastically, cut himself off.
An ominous silence fell. It didn’t feel quite like when Artif was angry—it was something different, harder to place.
“…So you even had time to brush her? You must be very relaxed. I want the territorial reports on my desk within the week.”
“What?! But don’t you usually review those in the second week?”
“Is that a complaint?”
Artif’s sharp gaze pinned him down.
“Of course not. I’ll stay up all night if I have to, and have them ready this week.”
Allen gave the only answer that wouldn’t get him killed.
“Leave that with me.”
“…Excuse me?”
“The list of foods that are good for Shasha.”
“Ah—yes. Then, I’ll… really go start working on the reports now?”
Allen ventured hopefully.
But Artif ignored him completely, absorbed in reading the food list.
“…So unfair…”
Allen drooped his shoulders miserably and trudged out of the study at an exaggeratedly slow pace.
“If you admit your mistake, I’ll overlook it this time.”
Late that night, back in his bedroom, Artif woke me from a sound sleep.
Half-asleep, my body limp, I found myself propped upright by his hands.
“Open your eyes, Shasha. You’re in the middle of being scolded.”
I forced my eyelids open.
He must have finished his work and bathed; his hair was still damp. He sat in front of me, stern-faced.
“Don’t you have something to say to me?”
What was he even talking about? He’d woken me up just for this? I hadn’t even left the room all day after another failed escape attempt.
For a small body, the door handle was ridiculously high. If only I’d turned into a larger cat—then I wouldn’t be trapped like this, pushed around by Artif.
I yawned so wide my jaw ached, and he gave a disbelieving laugh.
“What’s with that attitude? Don’t tell me you don’t even know what you did wrong. How can you be so shameless?”
At that point, I began to have serious doubts.
Up until now, I’d tried to convince myself he only kept talking to me because he was lonely. And well, I was in his debt.
But no.
Artif truly believed cats could converse with people. His delusion was severe.
“Shasha. Hurry up and say you’re sorry.”
“Myaaa…”
“Did you just sigh? Ha! How brazen. I never imagined my cat would turn out to be so shameless.”
Was that why he avoided high society?
If the heirless Duke of Redmond was rumored to be insane, the vultures would descend in an instant.
Feeling oddly sympathetic, I gazed at him with pity and opened my mouth.
— Sorry. Satisfied now?
“Nyaang, nyao nyao?”
But even when he heard the apology he wanted, Artif’s expression didn’t soften. In fact, he looked… sulky? Impossible as it sounded.
“You don’t look sorry at all.”
I rolled my eyes nervously.
For a lunatic, his intuition was annoyingly sharp.
“Since you clearly don’t know what you did, I’ll enlighten you.”
He sounded magnanimous as he spoke.
“My cat rolled around in my bedroom with another man while I was away.”
— What…?
“Did you enjoy it?”
His lips curved in a bitter, mocking smile, but his eyes looked almost… wounded, as if he were an aggrieved lover.
Completely at a loss, I blurted out nonsense.
— Meow meow meow meow!
“Meow meow meow meow.”
Artif narrowed his eyes and stared at me intently.
“…So. Do you finally understand your mistake?”
— Meow.
“Since you’ve apologized, I’ll let it go this time. But don’t forget—you belong to me.”
Having finished his warning, Artif lay down on the bed.
I couldn’t believe this man was head of a ducal house. If he was truly insane, how was the duchy still running? Maybe he was one of those people whose mind was broken but who still excelled at their work.
“Shasha. Come here.”
He rolled onto his side, patting the space against his chest like an invitation to cuddle.
— …?
His robe had shifted as he moved, revealing a sliver of broad, sculpted pectoral muscle.
My gaze was drawn there as if magnetized.
His chest, his abs, the lines of muscle…
“Shasha?”
His voice snapped me out of it.
Oh no.
Realizing I’d been staring in a daze, my face flamed hot.
“Come on, Shasha. I’m tired.”
His voice was low and husky as he reached toward me.
— Go away!
I darted out of reach, turning my back to him.
This isn’t right. Something is seriously wrong here.
Sharing a bed with a man who wasn’t my husband? Worse, one who was practically half-naked? Absolutely not.
Even if we did sleep together last night…
Just like when I was eating earlier, the thought struck me again: once I became human again, I’d have to live with these memories.
Every time I faced Artif at a ball, all I’d be able to think about was how I’d slept in his arms.
“What’s the matter?”
He looked genuinely baffled as he sat up.
— Ahem, from now on, I’ll sleep on the sofa.
I leapt down, but before I could get away, he snatched me up again.
Held firmly in his grasp, I scowled.
“Where do you think you’re going without sleeping?”
— Sofa.
“To… relieve yourself?”
“Kyauu!”
“Ah, you’re thirsty?”
— No, that’s not it!
Why was he so clingy? Once he fell asleep, he wouldn’t even notice if I was beside him or not.
He should just go to bed already—he looked exhausted.
“Wait… you’re not planning to sleep somewhere else, are you?”
— Yes! That’s exactly it!
His face darkened, the opposite of pleased that he’d guessed correctly.
“No. Absolutely not.”
His tone was cold and final.
— I don’t want to sleep with you. If you knew I was actually Lady Retel, you wouldn’t want to sleep with me either.
You don’t even like me, remember?
