I stood motionless, the room steeped in silence, the air unnaturally still. Across from me, seated upon the window ledge, was the black cat. It watched me with an unreadable calm, its green eyes reflecting more than the lamplight. They held something else-knowledge, perhaps. Or memory.

  "W-What did you just say... This isn't a dream?" I murmured, my voice barely escaping, unsure if I was asking or declaring.

  The cat flicked its tail and spoke, evenly. "That's right. Look there."

  I followed its gaze toward the wall clock. Its second hand ticked onward-steady, precise. The kind of detail dreams never bothered with.

  "Do you see time in dreams?" it asked.

  I swallowed hard, unable to answer. There was a strange pressure in the room, as though gravity had subtly shifted.

  Without warning, the cat leapt from the ledge and struck my face with a swift paw.

  A sharp sting bloomed across my cheek. I staggered back.

  "Ah-! What the hell?!"

  The cat's gaze remained unshaken. "Do you feel pain in dreams?"

  The pain lingered, warm and real beneath my fingertips. It wasn't the sting that unnerved me-it was the weight of its implication.

  "...If this isn't a dream," I said slowly, "Then what is this place?"

  The cat's voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "As I said... this is my world."

  I furrowed my brow. "Your world? Who the hell are you?"

  The cat blinked, as if the answer was obvious. "I am the creator of this world. To the people here, I am their god. In your world, I'm called the author."

  I stared at it, expression flat.

  A cat... God?

  I might've laughed, had there not been something about its tone-too assured, too precise.

  "I still don't get it," I muttered.

  It must have heard the disbelief buried in my voice. It narrowed its eyes slightly.

  "Then let me clarify."

  Without another word, the cat turned to the sliding glass doors.

  A strange sensation crept up my body-

  Wait... why do I feel lighter?

  I am floating?

  The doors creaked open on their own. A gust of cold air swept into the room.

  My feet left the floor, gently at first, then violently. The door burst open without a sound-and I was flung through it like a leaf in a storm.

  A sudden force-unseen and irresistible-launched me forward.

  The air roared in my ears. My mind went blank.

  I was flying-no, falling-through endless blue. Below me, the buildings of the city shrank into miniature models. The horizon curved gently like a distant painting.

  And then, impossibly, I heard a voice beside me.

  "That's right."

  I turned my head mid-fall and saw the cat running effortlessly across the open air, paws making no sound as they touched invisible ground.

  "What-What is happening?!"

  It kept pace easily. "Say, do you know how to swim?"

  My stomach dropped.

  Swim?

  I looked down.

  We crossed the city and now beneath us was the ocean. Vast, endless, and black. It reflected no stars, no sun. Just a still, ominous abyss.

  "No," I whispered. "No, no, no-don't you dare-!"

  "Take a dip," the cat said.

  And then, I fell.

  The wind roared in my ears as I plunged downward. The surface of the water rushed up to meet me, and in that final moment before impact, the sea looked like polished obsidian-beautiful, terrible, unknowable.

  The air tore past my ears, my body slicing downward like a stone. The surface of the ocean approached-sharp and metallic in its sheen-and I braced myself for impact.

  SPLASH.

  I broke through the surface feet first, pain flaring up my legs. Cold water enveloped me. I sank, deeper and deeper, until the surface vanished above me like a distant ceiling.

  My lungs burned. My muscles screamed.

  I kicked upward, desperate to break the surface again-

  But then something moved below me.

  Fast.

  Sharp.

  Hunting.

  I turned my head-and my blood turned cold.

  A shark.

  Its body glided with terrifying grace, slicing through the water just a few meters below. I didn't know what kind. I didn't care. All I could see were its eyes-empty, ancient, fixed on me-and its jaw, twitching, ready to snap.

  It turned.

  I froze.

  Move, my mind screamed.

  Then it shot upward.

  Straight at me.

  My body reacted before I did. I kicked hard, veering to the side just as it lunged-

  Teeth flashed past my leg.

  Inches away.

  If I had hesitated even a second... I would've felt them tear through me.

  But I didn't stop.

  I twisted underwater, pushing my body with every ounce of strength I had left. The shark turned again, relentless. I could feel it gaining on me, cutting through the water faster than I ever could. My lungs begged for air.

  Then-I saw it.

  A faint shimmer just ahead, like a ribbon of flickering light.

  An electric eel. Coiled lazily along a coral ridge, unaware of the death heading its way.

  Please work, I thought.

  At the last second, I jerked my body upward, letting momentum carry me just over the eel-

  And the shark didn't stop.

  I kicked sideways at the last second, just as the shark lunged.

  It didn't hesitate. Its teeth clamped down on the eel.

  And then-The eel lashed out, reacting on pure instinct. A jolt of blue-white electricity surged through the water.

  A flash.

  The sea convulsed. A bolt of current exploded outward. The shark jerked violently, body twitching in convulsive spasms.

  I felt the shock ripple past me-a distant buzz, like brushing a live wire.

  It had bitten the wrong prey.

  I didn't wait to see what came next.

  Kicking hard, I shot upward through the water, lungs screaming, heart punching my ribs like a war drum. The surface glimmered above like salvation, and I chased it like a drowning man chases hope.

  I began to descend.

  The light faded. The color drained from the water. Pressure wrapped around my chest.

  Then, in the growing dark, something emerged.

  A shape-massive and slow-approached from the shadows. Its presence was undeniable, the water pulsing with its motion.

  One immense eye opened in front of me, round as a moon and as ancient as time. I froze. My own reflection stared back at me, minuscule, drifting like dust.

  It blinked.

  Wait... that's-

  A current shifted.

  -a whale?!

  No, it's not just any blue wale it's too big.

  The creature-the whale-moved with such silence it might've been dreaming. But then its mouth began to open.

  Wider. Wider still.

  The water stirred violently. It was drawing me in. My arms reached for anything-nothing.

  This is it.

  A roar built in my ears, not sound, but sensation-an overwhelming hum of existence.

  And just before I was consumed, something pulled me back. Hard.

  My body rose. I breached the surface once more with a violent cough, gasping as air filled my lungs again.

  The cat was there, floating above the sea like before. Untouched.

  "We're not done yet," it said, already moving toward the city skyline.

  I groaned, but had no choice. A force followed the cat's direction, dragging me with it.

  Buildings passed beneath us, their windows glinting with warm lights. I might've admired the beauty of the city from above-if I weren't so completely exhausted.

  We came to a halt near a tall rooftop. The cat sat at the edge, as if waiting for me to arrive.

  "So," it said, glancing sideways, "how's the view?"

  I hovered beside it, breath ragged. "Let me down, you damn cat..."

  "As you wish."

  The world turned upside down. I was facing the street far below, the wind rushing past my ears again.

  "Not like THIS!" I screamed.

  The cat yawned lazily, clearly enjoying itself.

  Maybe... someone could see me? Hear me?

  I shouted, "Help me!" but not a single face turned.

  People moved inside the building, oblivious. No one looked up.

  "Don't bother," the cat said. "They can't see you. Or hear you."

  My breath caught.

  "Though..." the cat looked down, "they might find it strange when they see blood on the ground with no body."

  I looked below.

  A sick feeling pooled in my stomach. I turned to the feline, still perched on the railing with maddening calm.

  "H-Hey," I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's... let's just sit and talk, alright?"

  "I am sitting," it replied flatly.

  I snapped, "But I'm not!"

  Then-without warning-my body tilted upright. No more gentle hovering. No more slow drifting. My face pointed straight down, the wind coiling under me like an invisible grip about to let go.

  "Alright," the cat said, its tail lazily flicking. "Enough talking."

  "Wait-!"

  That's when it happened.

  The floating stopped.

  And I fell.

  The world blurred past my eyes, the building vanishing above, the ground rushing up with merciless speed.

  This is it. This is how I die. From a sarcastic cat that claims to be God. Damn it-

  "Okay! Okay! I got it!" I screamed. "I am sorry for smiling!"

  Then-everything stopped.

  No crash. No pain.

  Just stillness.

  I opened one eye, then the other.

  The ground was right in front of me. Inches away. Close enough to feel its breath. Time itself seemed to hold its breath.

  And then I was rising-gently, weightlessly-as if invisible hands lifted me back toward the sky.

  "Trip ends here," the cat said, as if it had just stopped a ride at an amusement park.

  In the blink of an eye, we were no longer outside. The wind disappeared. The cold left my skin.

  I was back in the room.

  My face slammed into the wooden floor like a sack of regret, the rest of my body collapsing after it with a dull thud. I groaned, lying flat on my back, stunned and breathless.

  I looked around, dazed. The clock ticked. Erica stood across the room, frozen in time as if none of this had happened.

  "What... the hell is going on?" I muttered.

  The cat now sat casually on the desk, tail curled neatly around its paws. Its eyes met mine again-less amused now. More... tired.

  "I normally don't like calling myself God," it said. "But your sarcastic little smirk kinda got on my nerves."

  I stared at it. My voice cracked as I shouted, "And that's why you almost killed me?!"

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The cat yawned.

  "Calm down. You didn't die... right?"

  I took a shaky breath. My legs finally gave in, and I dropped into the nearest chair.

  No, I didn't die.

  But for the first time in my life... I truly felt like I might've.

  The strange ticking of the clock echoed through the quiet room, still stuck in its relentless rhythm. I slowly turned to Erica, who stood right in front of me, unfazed, her expression still as flat as ever.

  "Are you alright, Master Leon?" she asked, her voice calm as always, as she offered her hand to me.

  Even after everything that just happened-me flying, being throwed here and there and her reaction is this? She didn't blink once. Seriously, is this girl made of stone?

  "I'm good," I muttered, waving off her hand and standing on my own, brushing off my clothes. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

  I turned to the cat-no, the thing that had thrown me across the sky, into an ocean, and nearly flattened me like a pancake on the pavement.

  "Alright, I get it now. This isn't a dream," I said, deadpan. "But what exactly is this place? It... resembles the novel, but nothing about this feels real. It shouldn't be."

  The cat, sitting casually on the desk, flicked its tail. "As I said, this world is born from my imagination. Every corner of it, every rule, every city-it was written by me."

  "...Then you're saying I'm inside a novel?" I asked.

  "Correct," it replied smoothly. "You've fallen straight into my world."

  I blinked. My brain paused for a solid second. Then-

  "...How? How did I even get here?"

  "That..." The cat tilted its head, almost as if amused. "I can't explain it fully yet. But think of it like this-your intense emotional resonance connected with this word. It was enough to open a door."

  "Okay... let's say that door opened," I said, narrowing my eyes. "But I didn't walk through it. I was dragged in-by you."

  "True," the cat replied with a smirk. "There's a reason for that as well."

  Then, with a sharp flick of its tail, it clamped the newspaper in its mouth and leapt onto the spinning chair behind the desk. In one smooth motion, the chair twirled-and the cat transformed.

  The figure now seated there was human-tall, draped in a dark coat, still hiding his face behind that same newspaper.

  My breath froze. The cat—he—wasn't a cat anymore. A man sat in the chair now, tall, cloaked, still hiding behind that damn newspaper.

  I blinked, trying to make sense of it. Was I losing my mind, or was this really happening?

  "What the hell...?"

  Seriously... what the heck is this guy trying to pull?

  He looked like a young adult—mid-twenties, maybe—but the way he leaned back in his chair, spinning lazily like some mysterious movie character... was so obviously trying to look cool.

  And the worst part?

  ...He actually pulled it off.

  That posture. That smug confidence. Damn it, he looked cool and he knew it.

  But then... again that posture. That smug presence. Something about it tickled at the back of my memory.

  "...Wait," I muttered, narrowing my eyes. "You're that shopkeeper..."

  He chuckled, spinning lazily in his chair again-but still not facing me.

  "Bingo, that's right," he said. "Though 'shopkeeper' is a bit reductive, don't you think?"

  And the cat from that shop as well, now it's confirmed.

  I blinked. "So... you're the author, huh"

  Well yeah I never got to see his face cause of the newspaper which always hides it.

  His chair stopped mid-turn. His voice dropped a tone, carrying a strange fondness as he continued.

  "You want to know how that ending came to be?" he asked. "Fine. Let me paint you the scene."

  ---

  He began to speak, and for a moment, the world fell away.

  "Picture this," he said, tone dipping into something theatrical. "A dim little room. Not too big, not too small. The kind where the only light is the soft hum of a desk lamp, casting long shadows on a wall filled with old notes and half-drawn maps. Outside, the world is sleeping. But I wasn't."

  He leaned back, folding his hands behind his head.

  "I was at my desk. Final volume open. Fingers dancing on the keys. The grand finale-every author's battlefield."

  "I remember the chatroom was buzzing," he said with a chuckle. "A flood of comments from the group they shared before the last volume dropped. Most of them were happy."

  He started listing with a mockingly nostalgic tone:

  "Loved the side couples!'

  ''Canon pair was mid, not gonna lie.''

  ''It's sad it's ending, but I'm glad you didn't force that ship.''

  "I smiled," he said, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Genuinely. Most of them knew the canon couple wouldn't end up together. They knew what I was going for. They understood the journey—the arcs, The nuances, the bittersweet notes..."

  Then, he leaned forward slightly, tone sharpening.

  "But then... I saw yours."

  'I still hope she will get her ending.' - Leon_07

  There was a pause. A small smile crept up the corner of his mouth-but this one was different.

  "I remember that name," he said slowly, like savoring a memory. "Leon_07. So stubborn. So hopeful. Even when the writing was on the wall."

  He let out a small laugh-cold and amused.

  "You wanted them to be happy? You wanted to rewrite fate with hope?"

  His smile deepened into something darker.

  "That's when I knew," he said, stretching his fingers. "I knew I had to teach you something."

  "You're a monster," I muttered under my breath.

  He ignored me.

  "I cracked my knuckles, leaned back, and rewrote the final scene. And in that very moment, as your precious heroine took her last breath..."

  He let out a soft, cruel chuckle.

  "...I imagined your face. Screaming at the screen. Begging for a rewrite. I nearly made a cup of tea to celebrate."

  ---

  "You're a sadist!" I barked, stomping forward. "If we weren't in this weird situation, I would've punched you. Turn around, you cool bastard!"

  He spun his chair back around slowly now, just enough for me to catch the smug curve of his lips-but not his full expression.

  "Call it what you want," he said, resting his cheek against his knuckles. "But let's be honest, Leon... That pain? That twist in your chest? That's what made the story unforgettable, didn't it?"

  Before I could land a step closer, a pair of slender arms wrapped tightly around my torso-stronger than they looked. Erica, with the same expressionless face as ever, held me back like I was nothing more than a mildly rowdy puppy.

  "Calm down, Master Leon," she said in her usual flat tone. As if she were scolding a child stealing cookies.

  Are you seriously defending him right now?

  I writhed in her grip, eyes locked on the man's back as he spun slowly in his chair, still hiding behind the newspaper.

  "You better turn around and explain everything, or so help me-!"

  The moment I raised my voice, the figure spun again-but instead of the man, the black cat landed on the desk with a light thump. The damn thing looked almost proud.

  "You should feel honored," it said smugly. "The Author himself changed the story for you."

  "You ruined it!" I snapped. "And it doesn't matter right now, Seriously, what's your game?!"

  The cat flicked its tail, then leaned in just slightly.

  "Well, I got tired of writing something which I already know how it would end. It bored me. So, I switched everything to autopilot and brought you here.

  To see what you would do in my story. In my world. So...

  ... entertain me well."

  So I really am just a pawn in some cosmic joke? That smug look on its face made me want to tear my hair out.

  The cat hopped down and stretched. "You should settle down. Erica will show you to your room."

  My shoulders finally dropped. Yeah, maybe yelling won't solve anything now.

  Erica stepped forward. "Master Leon?"

  "Please... drop the 'master' part. It feels weird now."

  She paused for a moment, almost like she considered arguing.

  "Very well. I will try."

  We walked down the hallway. The place was quiet-too quiet. Polished wood floors, old-fashioned walls with faintly glowing lamps, and a faint smell of lemon-scented polish hanging in the air. She opened a door and stepped aside.

  "This is your room."

  Inside was a neatly arranged space. A large window with thin curtains let in soft sunlight, a desk by the corner, bookshelves, a closet, and a bed that looked way too soft for how tired I felt.

  "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call me," she said, bowing slightly.

  "I'll just... get some rest for now."

  She nodded and left without another word. I flopped onto the bed, letting my body sink into the mattress.

  What is even going on...? I'm stuck in some fictional world created by a cat who calls himself an author. And now he wants me to entertain him? What am I, some story character being forced to dance?

  Sleep came quickly after that.

  ____

  Later at night...

  In the quiet dining room, the cat sat on the table eating grilled fish like royalty. The clock ticked steadily in the background.

  "May I ask you to call Master Leon for dinner?" Erica asked, standing politely by the doorway.

  The cat licked its paw. "Why don't you call him yourself?"

  "I believe he... hates me. For some reason."

  She looked down for just a second. A quiet hesitation.

  The cat stopped licking and turned to glance at her.

  "I don't think that's the case. He's just confused. That's all."

  The cat licked the last of the fish clean and jumped from the table.

  "But-" Erica tried to argue.

  "Let him be. If he's hungry, he'll come down."

  He padded toward the exit, then paused.

  "You're not eating either?"

  "No."

  The cat sighed. "You two are exhausting."

  Then he vanished down the hallway

  ---

  The next morning, sunlight bled through the window, cutting across the floor in lines. I stirred when I felt a presence near me.

  "Good morning," Erica said. "It's time to wake up."

  I sat up groggily, rubbing my eyes. She immediately reached forward and began folding the blanket with crisp precision.

  "The breakfast is being prepared. Clothes have been placed on the table. Please freshen up and come downstairs."

  She left with a quiet click of the door.

  I walked to the chair by the desk. Folded neatly were a set of clothes-black slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a simple jacket.

  I freshened up in the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and slipped into the clothes. They were surprisingly comfortable.

  When I came downstairs, I saw the black cat perched on the sofa, tail swaying slightly, watching the TV-which was playing a morning news report from a world I didn't recognize.

  "You're up, huh," it said.

  I sat beside it and let out a sigh.

  "I can't really go back to my world, can I?"

  "What? I thought everyone loved getting thrown into their favorite fictional world."

  "That's only in fiction! Not in real life, it's too much"

  The cat climbed onto my shoulder lazily. "Look around you. This world is far better than reality."

  I looked around. Sure, it looked clean, beautiful, even peaceful. But...

  "Still not convinced."

  The cat climbed onto the other shoulder and leaned in close. "Well, there's more. Look over there."

  He gestured with his nose toward the kitchen.

  I turned.

  Erica was preparing breakfast, her back to us. Her hands moved with graceful rhythm-flipping something in a pan, pouring juice into two glasses. She was so precise... almost mechanical. But oddly peaceful.

  "Okay," I said quietly whispering in cat's ear. "What's her deal? I still don't get her."

  "She's your maid," the cat said matter-of-factly.

  "My... maid?"

  "Yep. I created her just for you. She'll take care of you, no matter what."

  "Take care of me...? Like, assist me?"

  "Among other things." The cat grinned. "Don't you want to live with a beautiful woman like her?"

  Beautiful? Well... yeah, I guess. She is stunning. Like an untouchable porcelain doll. That cold aura makes her feel distant, but not unkind. Still, living with her feels... unreal.

  "Y-You think that's enough to convince me to stay here?" I muttered.

  The cat smirked. "You agree she's beautiful, don't you?"

  "I mean... sure. She's elegant. Mature. Has that unreachable vibe..." I scratched the back of my neck. "Like someone who doesn't even have to try, but still pulls all attention just by being there."

  "So you're into the mature type, huh?" the cat said.

  "Yeah, I guess so." I tried my best to not sound wierd.

  "Then we speak the same language," it replied proudly.

  I raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you also like mature women?"

  "Of course," the cat nodded without hesitation. "Why settle for cute-the overly peppy types who scream every five seconds-when you can have grace and wisdom rolled into one?"

  I looked toward Erica again and nodded. "Well, I'll give you credit for creating her," I said. "She's something else."

  The cat leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Since she's your maid... She might do anything you want."

  Eh?

  Wait a minute-what does that mean?! Like... anything?!

  Images started popping into my head, each more ridiculous than the last.

  "Master Leon?"

  I flinched hard.

  She was right next to me. Her face was inches away from my cheek

  "W-Whoa!" I yelped, falling backward off the couch.

  She blinked. "Breakfast is ready."

  ...This world's gonna break me before lunchtime.

  As I got up, the faint aroma of breakfast drifted into the hallway. My footsteps slowed, drawn by the smell. When I turned the corner, I found the dining table already prepared.

  On the table was a simple but refined spread. Warm, golden-brown pancakes stacked neatly, a pan-seared omelette with herbs folded just right, a small bowl of colorful fruit, and a glass jug filled with fresh orange juice. For the cat-of course, the cat-there was a silver dish with finely sliced fish, and beside it, a small cup of almond milk. Wait, seriously? Almond milk?

  Before I could even admire the scene properly, a chair slid back with a faint scraping noise. Erica stood beside it, one hand resting on the top, gesturing without a word for me to sit. Her usual blank expression was in place, the kind that never gave away anything.

  Do all maids do that? Drag chairs for you like some high-class butler? Or is that just her?

  I took the seat, a little awkwardly, as the cat gracefully hopped up onto the table like it owned the place. No one seemed to mind-not even Erica.

  Just as I was about to reach for the fork, I noticed something... odd. Erica was serving my plate-quickly, too efficiently.

  "Getting a little too excited that Leon's joining us today, aren't we?" the cat teased, tail flicking lazily.

  The moment those words left its mouth, the jug of orange juice slammed against the table with a heavy thud.

  I blinked. My hand froze midair.

  Whoa-what the hell?

  Erica didn't flinch. Her face remained the same marble mask it always was.

  "I apologize. But that's just your imagination," she said flatly.

  So... she has this side too, huh?

  I picked up the fork and took a bite of the pancakes. My eyes widened.

  It was really good.

  "No way... This is seriously delicious," I said without thinking.

  She blinked. Just once. But I caught it. And then-barely visible-two faint red lines formed across her cheeks.

  "I'm glad you liked it," she replied, bowing slightly.

  I watched her still standing there beside the table.

  "Why are you standing? Come join us."

  She hesitated, looking down at her gloves. "It's alright. I will eat later."

  "Later?" I frowned. "Skipping breakfast isn't healthy. Just join us already."

  Again, that unreadable pause. Her eyes flickered-conflicted, maybe?

  "But-"

  "Are you going to disobey his orders?" the cat interrupted, grinning as it munched on a piece of fish.

  Wait, what?

  "H-Hold on! That wasn't an order!" I waved my hands.

  "Very well," she said quietly, cutting me off, and finally took a seat across from me.

  I was serving her some food onto her plate.

  Immediately, she looked startled. "You don't have to take the trouble. I can do it myself."

  The cat groaned. "Can you two just eat peacefully, please?"

  For a while, we did.

  The conversation slowed down as we quietly ate, the soft clinking of cutlery filling the silence. I couldn't help glancing at Erica now and then. Her posture was perfect. She barely made a sound when she moved.

  Then, the cat-because of course it would-decided to speak again.

  Then, out of nowhere, the cat looked up. "By the way, why didn't you come for dinner last night?"

  Erica's hands paused slightly.

  "Oh, I-" I started. "I slept right through it. That bed was way too comfortable. But wait-you should've woken me up!"

  The cat turned its head toward Erica.

  She looked down, her fingers tightening slightly around her fork.

  "What's wrong?" I asked, eyes flicking between them.

  "Nothing," the cat replied quickly. "You should finish up. You'll be late."

  "Late for what?"

  "The violin concert," the cat said, licking its paw. "The protagonist is going to perform his first solo. It's the first official event of the novel, remember?"

  Oh yeah. That moment from the story.

  The cat tossed a ticket onto the table. I picked it up.

  "Go and take a look. Should be entertaining," it said.

  "Right... Might as well enjoy myself a little," I mumbled, finishing my last bite. I stood up and stretched.

  The cat leapt gracefully onto my shoulder.

  "By the way," it whispered, "because you didn't show up for dinner, she didn't eat either."

  What?

  I turned my head slightly. "Huh?"

  "She was worried. She thought it was her fault you didn't come. She didn't touch her food."

  My eyes shifted toward Erica. She was gathering dishes quietly, not looking in my direction. Was that a... sad expression I just saw? Or was I imagining it?

  The cat hopped down and landed softly.

  "Well, I take my leave," it said and padded out of the room.

  I watched it leave, then turned and walked over to Erica. She was already at the sink, washing the plates like nothing happened.

  "Erica," I said.

  She paused. Slightly.

  "I just wanted to say... if I was rude yesterday, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be like that. I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything. This place, you, the cat... all of it. So if I made you feel like it was your fault-Please don't be."

  She stood silently for a moment, hands still under the running water.

  Then slowly, she turned her head.

  "Please don't apologize," she said softly, her back still slightly turned as she rinsed the last plate. "I understand. It's only natural to react that way in such a situation. I should have known better."

  Her voice was gentle. Not robotic. Not hollow. Just... calm. Real.

  She turned around slightly, hands drying on a cloth. "And thank you for being so considerate. I... thought you hated me for some reason. But it's all cleared up now."

  Then she did something small-but it made me freeze.

  She bowed. Just a slight dip of her head, graceful and elegant.

  "I'm really grateful you said that."

  Her face, as always, remained unreadable. Those serious eyes and cool expression still made her seem distant, like a character carved from ice. But... it didn't feel sad anymore.

  The heavy silence she carried this morning was gone. There was a lightness to her, subtle but warm-like she'd returned to being herself again.

  But the air around her felt different. Lighter. Warmer.

  She was giving off this kind of... happy aura.

  Wait-hold on. Is it just me, or is she actually kind of adorable right now?

  "I'm heading out," I said casually, reaching for the doorknob.

  She nodded politely. "Understood. Will you be returning before dinner, Master Leon?"

  "Just 'Leon' is fine," I reminded her with a faint smile. "And yeah, I'll try. Depends how long the concert goes."

  For a moment, she hesitated. "...Please take care of yourself."

  Her voice was soft. Not robotic-not this time. There was something in her tone, something that felt like quiet concern.

  I paused, then looked back at her.

  "I will. And... thanks. For breakfast. It was amazing."

  Her eyes blinked slowly, almost like she hadn't expected that.

  And with that, I left the house.

  The soft click of the door behind me felt final, like stepping into something real-something alive.

  The warm morning sun brushed against my face, and a light breeze carried the scent of the sea and blooming trees. As I walked down the cobbled path, heading toward the concert hall, something strange caught my attention.

  I was on my way to the violin concert, walking at first. But then-something hit me.

  Wait a second.

  I stopped mid-step.

  My leg.

  I blinked and looked down. I stretched it out, then bent it. No pain. No stiffness. No limp. Not even a hint of resistance.

  It was... fine.

  Completely fine.

  How did I not notice this earlier?

  I gave a slow smile. Then it turned into a full grin.

  No, actually-screw walking.

  And just like that-my walk turned into a jog. Then into a sprint.

  I didn't care about the concert or the ticket burning in my pocket-I just let the wind guide me.

  Yeah.

  Now I can run!

  My legs moved with a kind of joy I hadn't felt in ages, each step light, like I was floating. I laughed as the streets blurred past me, weaving through the familiar neighborhood from the novel I'd once read a thousand times over.

  A fruit cart? I sidestepped it.

  Two kids playing with a skipping rope? I jumped over the rope mid-spin and shouted, "Nice rhythm!"

  A rickety wooden table outside a café? I leapt onto the bench, then onto the table like it was part of some parkour course.

  A waitress yelped as I soared past her head.

  "Sorry!" I said mid-jump, laughing.

  I landed on the other side with a smooth roll and kept going, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. People were probably staring, but I didn't care. The city felt alive-and I was alive right in the middle of it.

  It was freedom.

  And then the buildings opened up. The city thinned out, and up ahead was something I remembered clearly from the novel.

  Greenland.

  A wide, open field just before the ocean, where the grass grew tall and soft, and the air always smelled like salt and sun.

  But in front of the grass, there was a tall metal gate-one of those railings meant to keep people from running off the edge.

  I didn't slow down.

  Instead, I spotted a tall red postbox just to the side.

  Perfect. Bring it on.

  I ran full speed, stepped up onto the postbox, and launched myself-arms wide, eyes sharp.

  The wind roared in my ears as I cleared the metal gate with inches to spare, landing on the soft grass below.

  I rolled twice, laughing as I hit the ground, then finally came to a stop on my back.

  Above me was a sky so blue it looked painted.

  In front of me, the ocean stretched out to infinity-waves catching the golden light of the sun like scattered diamonds.

  I stayed there, breathing in the scent of the sea, the sound of gulls far off.

  My hands rested behind my head, body relaxed.

  And man, it felt good to be able to run again.

  And for the first time in a long, long while-I laughed.

  I actually laughed like a kid.

  I laid there, arms stretched behind my head, grinning like a kid.

  This world... I still didn't understand it. But right now? Right in this moment?

  It was beautiful, and I felt more alive than I had in years.

  To Be Continued...