"...I imagined your face. Screaming at the book. 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.