Chapter 1

Darkness settled thick across the land.

On the vast, starless sea of night, only the full moon asserted its presence. Its pale, peculiar light—so unlike sunlight—spilled down upon the earth.

That moonlight touched the enormous frame of a black wolf. In that instant, a strange gleam stirred within its crimson eyes.

The wolf, gazing out the window, turned and walked with heavy steps. The dull thud of beastly paws striking the floor slowly shifted into the steady, weighted rhythm of boots.

With a metallic groan, an iron door creaked open. Through the gap spilled light, revealing a man with midnight hair and blood-red eyes.

At the same time, moonlight seeped into another quiet chamber, falling across the figure of a sleeping woman.

Her silver hair shimmered under its glow, radiating an almost holy aura. It was a sight so ethereal it felt like watching a goddess in her slumber—too divine to approach, too mesmerizing to look away from.

But the peace shattered in an instant. The woman’s serene expression twisted, and in a flash, the blanket draped over her collapsed, sliding down her body.

“Milady~ it’s time for your medicine!”

The voice of her maid, Sina, tugged at her. A dainty pink nose twitched at the sound.

“I’ll come in now!”

Sina entered the room cautiously.

Seven already?

It always baffled her—how closing her eyes for what felt like a moment could steal away eight whole hours.

“Milady, I really think you should rest today.” Sina busied herself gathering the canopy curtains around the bed.

“You only just broke your fever last night. Your health is so delicate, you must take care. Can’t you just skip breakfast one more day?”

At last, after a week confined to bed, she had finally recovered. Lying still for so long had been unbearable—she had vowed to be active again starting today.

And yet, when morning comes… getting up feels impossible.

“Even His Grace insisted you not attend today. What if you fall ill again—”

Sina’s worried complaints cut off abruptly. A sharp slap! echoed, as if someone had been struck.

Puzzled, she cracked one eye open… and froze. Sina was staring at her with a look of horror.

“…?”

Opening her eyes fully, she met Sina’s gaze. The maid staggered back a step.

“Y-Your Grace? No—the Duke?!”

What on earth…?

Sina was sensitive by nature, often flustering her mistress with her dramatics. But today, her reaction was unusually bizarre.

Am I sick again?

It wasn’t rare for her to be unaware of her own ailments—she had been frail since childhood, accustomed to wavering between health and illness.

She rose, intending to check her reflection for signs of fever.

Hm…?

Something was off. Different.

Her body felt… lighter. Almost as if she could leap and soar. For someone who had never known vitality, it was an alien sensation.

But that wasn’t all.

Has the chandelier always been that small? Or… farther away?

Rubbing her eyes, she stopped mid-motion. A puff of white fluff appeared before her.

W-what is—huh?!

“Meow—aoop!”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. But what came out wasn’t speech—only a stray, awkward cry.

This has to be a dream. No other way.

After all, her palm shouldn’t feel so soft and squishy.

“….”

She forced herself to look down. Words failed her.

Silver fur. Round, pink jelly-like paw pads.

“Ha… ha… what…?”

“Meow, meow, meow…”

It had to be a dream. It must be. And yet—why did her heart hammer so loudly?

“Did you check the bath properly?!”

Her father’s stern voice thundered from beyond.

“I-I panicked when I saw the cat, I didn’t finish checking! I apologize!”

Sina’s frantic excuse carried through the door.

Footsteps gathered outside, a commotion swelling. But only one word struck her ears:

Cat…?

Before she could grasp the meaning, her father stormed into the room.

“Charlize!”

Father!

“Meow!”

She bolted upright, calling out—but once again, only a cat’s cry escaped.

Her father’s eyes locked on her, his face stiffening with cold shock.

“Why are you just standing there? Catch that cat at once!”

At his thunderous command, the maids rushed forward. Sina ran to search the bath, while others spread their arms wide, closing in.

“Here, kitty, kitty~”

Their voices were sweet, but their movements were anything but gentle.

“Got it—ah!”

She leapt instinctively, slipping through a gap and escaping their grasp. That single act set off chaos—hands snatching from every side.

She bolted for the door. A servant blocked her path, but she dove between his legs, brushing past by a hair.

Glancing back mid-sprint, she saw her father beyond the pursuers. His face was hardened, his eyes cold and hostile—an expression she had never seen before. That chilling sight was her last memory of her home.

She ran with no destination, only forward. Her lungs burned, her legs threatened to give out—but she couldn’t stop.

Though no one chased anymore, the truth—that she had become a cat—was too much to face.

“Stop—stop there!”

Her legs tangled; she tumbled.

“Meowww!”

Pain seared her knees, grit filled her mouth. She spat, gasping for breath—

“Hiiiiiing!”

A piercing whinny. A looming shadow.

No way—

She looked up, just in time to see horse hooves crashing down toward her.

Move, move—!

The world slowed, the hooves descending inch by inch, but her body refused to obey. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing—

“Whoa, whoa!”

No pain came. Trembling, she cracked her eyes open. The horses stood still before her.

“I-I’m alive…”

Relief washed over her, her limbs giving out as she collapsed.

“What happened?”

A deep voice sounded from within the carriage.

“A stray cat darted in front of us, my lord. Forgive me.”

The coachman’s explanation was shaky.

“Is it… dead?”

A lighter voice gasped from inside.

“No, but it seems too frightened to move.”

She sat there numbly, barely hearing. Alive, but trembling still. First turned into a cat, now nearly trampled to death—the day’s events overwhelmed her.

As she steadied her breath, the carriage rolled forward. Massive horses passed, followed by a black carriage.

Black?

Her head snapped up.

In the Empire, such a color was rare. The crest etched on its side drew her eye—but before she could study it, a pair of chilling red eyes met hers through the window.

That man…!

Black carriage. Jet-black hair. Crimson eyes. There was only one person in the Empire who bore all three.

Arteph Redmond, the Duke.

“Stop.”

His lips moved, the command flat and resonant.

The carriage slowed. Before it halted completely, the door burst open. Arteph leapt down, swift yet eerily composed, his face expressionless.

“My lord? What is it?” the coachman asked, bewildered.

But she could only see his eyes—those scarlet eyes fixed squarely on her.

She stumbled back. Too late. A flash sparked within his gaze.

“Meowww!”

Her scruff was seized in an unyielding grip.