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Chapter 8
The hostility between the Imperial Family and the House of Redmond had been a recurring theme throughout history, and recently, the rift between them had grown deeper than ever.
And now—someone had turned the Crown Prince’s fiancée into a cat and sent her as a spy to the Duke.
It sounded absurd, almost laughable.
But it had truly happened, albeit unintentionally.
“Shasha.”
If Artif ever caught on and interrogated me until my true identity was revealed, the Imperial Family would surely try to distance themselves from the scandal. They would make House Retel the scapegoat, declaring us enemies of the Empire.
And in the process, they would drag out the accusation of black magic.
History had proven time and again—accusations of black magic were the fastest, most reliable way to annihilate an entire bloodline.
“Shasha. Look at me.”
I had to end this on my own. Before everything was exposed, before I returned to my human form…
My breath came in uneven bursts, choking me. Terror shook my body, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let my family, my house, be destroyed because of me.
“Shasha!”
As I sank deeper into endless fear, Artif’s hands shook my shoulders, forcing me back to reality. His crimson eyes brimmed with worry.
“Did you… suffer when you were caught by someone?”
His calloused hand stroked me gently, soothing, as though to tell me I was safe now. Rough and scarred as they were, those hands were unexpectedly kind, and slowly, the tremors left my body.
“You’re my cat. That means you’re safe now. From this day forward, no one dares lay a hand on you.”
But you hate me. If you knew I was the Lady of Retel, you’d seize any excuse to destroy my house.
Yet, strangely enough… those words brought me peace.
“Safe.”
It was laughable, terrifying, and yet—when everything around me felt like it was crumbling—that word became the only thing I could cling to.
“You act prickly, but in truth… you’re nothing but a crybaby, aren’t you?”
Only then did I realize there were tears flowing down my cheeks. Artif wiped them away, then pulled me close as though I were something fragile, patting my back tenderly.
His embrace was so warm that I couldn’t help but bury my face against him and sob uncontrollably.
But, Artif…
If you knew the truth—that I was not a cat, but Charlize Retel, the woman you despise most…
Would you still hold me like this?
“Do you remember who hurt you?”
— Ahem… what are you talking about?
Embarrassed by how much I had cried, I hid my swollen face. Artif’s clothes were soaked through from my tears… and yes, my runny nose as well.
“At least nod or shake your head.”
— How am I supposed to answer when I don’t even know who you’re talking about?
“Your meowing is cute, but I can’t understand a word. Can’t you speak?”
— Are you seriously asking that?
I gave him a pitying look. Suddenly, Artif tilted his head.
“Ah… can you write, perhaps?”
That question froze me. If I admitted yes, would he suspect my identity? Surely not immediately…
Cautiously, I nodded. Artif’s expression lit up.
“Good. Then we’ll find a way. Ink on your claws—no, no, those chubby paws won’t do.”
— Chubby?! This is fur, not fat!
Ignoring my outrage, Artif pondered a method.
“Then I’ll bring cards with vowels and consonants. Finally, we’ll be able to have a real conversation.”
Despite myself, my tail swished. At last—I could communicate with someone properly.
Wait. That meant… all this time, he wasn’t insane. He knew I understood him, and that’s why he kept talking to me!
— Sorry for calling you a lunatic, then.
“Still—you must never let anyone else find out. Ever.”
— Got it.
I nodded without hesitation. If anyone discovered the truth, I’d be the one doomed.
But my easy agreement only earned me a sigh.
“You’re too careless. Even if you hate it, you must never nod or shake your head like that.”
— I said I got it.
He wasn’t wrong. I tended to react when agitated, like when he touched my belly or scooped me up under the arms…
— Actually, you’re the real problem. Knowing I hated it, you should’ve respected my dignity, you know.
“When you meet someone outside this room, be especially cautious. If they try to touch you—just run. If they catch you, endure it quietly. You’re not exactly fast.”
— Excuse me? Why blame me for not being fast?
Why couldn’t he phrase things kindly, just once?
“Better yet, I’ll order them not to touch you.”
“Meow!”
“…Why? You don’t want that?”
I quickly nodded. He already fed me meat and spoiled me more than enough. If word spread that Duke Redmond was fussing this much over a cat, nothing good would come of it.
“If you act suspiciously, I’ll command you directly.”
— Hah. And you think you’re doing this for yourself…
“You’re my cat. If anyone sees you as my weakness, they’ll try to exploit it.”
— I get it, stop lecturing already.
I still couldn’t believe it. This man who used to exude nothing but icy menace was now fussing like a worrier. What would he be like if he ever had children?
“Allen is trustworthy, but still—for now…”
— Enough! My ears are going to bleed!
I bolted for the sofa by the window.
“Figures. You understand me, but you don’t listen.”
— What, did you expect me to be some obedient pet?
He followed, grumbling, but the hand that stroked me was brimming with affection.
“I was heading out anyway.”
— Work again?
When I lifted my head, he nodded.
“To the palace. I’ll try to return early, but it’s the Emperor’s birthday banquet. I have to at least pay my respects.”
Oh, right. I’d nearly forgotten—I was supposed to attend too, as the Crown Prince’s fiancée. But now, missing without a trace…
How would this scandal affect the Empire’s balance?
“I’ll be back.”
His warmth withdrew. I should’ve been relieved not to be clinging to him, but after crying so hard, my heart felt strangely softer.
Not that I was embarrassed about being “naked”—with all this fur, it hardly counted.
“Chuu.”
— …?
Something soft and warm brushed my forehead, fleeting as a whisper.
Before I could process the cheeky little sound that came with it, Artif was already walking away.
The door clicked shut.
Only then did realization strike.
That shameless bastard!
I hurled insults at the empty room, but of course, he was long gone.
The Imperial Palace’s grand banquet hall glittered with gold. Everywhere gleamed—massive chandeliers dripping with crystal, blindingly bright.
The Duke of Redmond, however, stood against a wall, nursing a glass of wine.
“Is he in a foul mood?”
“His face looks grim.”
Nobles whispered, reluctant to approach. His intimidating aura made it nearly impossible.
“No, I think that’s just how he always looks. I’ve seen him before—same expression then.”
Wrong. Artif always despised these gatherings. And tonight, he was in an especially foul mood.
Shasha’s waiting. Why won’t that Emperor hurry up?
He wanted to return quickly, to bury his hands in Shasha’s soft fur. The look on her face when he kissed her earlier… unforgettable.
Strange.
He hadn’t felt like this in years. Mischief, playfulness—things he thought long dead inside him.
His chest stirred uneasily.
“By the way, have you heard the news?”
A group of nobles nearby lowered their voices.
“About House Retel.”
The words froze Artif’s hand midway to his lips.
