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The moment I opened the door, something flashed before my eyes—and in the next instant, something soft, cold, and suspiciously springy landed on my face with a loud splat.

I staggered back, nearly lost my balance, but somehow stayed on my feet. My heart dropped straight into my shoes.

I grabbed “it” in panic, terrified it was about to lay eggs in my mouth, but it clung to me with claws and had no intention of letting go.

After a brief struggle, I finally freed my face from my attacker and, holding my breath, looked down to see what had struck.

To my utter shock and delight, I found myself holding a kitten—light-furred, brown-eyed… and with wings.

Just as I relaxed and started to admire this miracle, it took a precise swipe at my cheek.

The pain took me by surprise, and I dropped the kitten, clutching my face and nearly breaking into a tap dance right there.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw the kitten floating in the air, flapping its tiny wings.

I would’ve said, How cute, if my face wasn’t still burning from those claws.

“Come here, you furry little menace!” I yelled, trying to catch the fuzzball as it circled me.

“You planning to ignore me forever?” came a thin, icy voice that sent chills down my spine.

I froze, suddenly remembering I was in Evelyn’s room.

I turned to see a girl my age perched on the windowsill—red-haired, with sky-blue eyes looking at me tiredly, a book in her hand.

Apparently, I’d interrupted her reading.

That must be Evelyn, I guessed.

“Sorry, I got a little… distracted,” I apologized, bowing at a perfect ninety degrees like a proper Japanese apology.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

It was even worse than getting yelled at.

“Sue, come here,” Evelyn finally broke the tension.

The ball of fluff—apparently named Sue—immediately spun around and landed in Evelyn’s arms.

She closed her book, set it on the table, walked to the door, and said,

“If you’re truly sorry, clean the room. You have one hour.”

The furry menace the kitten lay purring in her hands. I could’ve sworn it smirked at me.

I was left alone in Evelyn’s room—with my irritation and a still-burning face.

“Great, I’m officially ranked below the flying cat now. Wonderful. So much for social status.”

I took a deep breath and surveyed the room.

It looked like someone had tried either a round of alchemy experiments or summoning a demon. Or maybe the demon just lived here.

Books were scattered everywhere, clothes dangled from the bed, and the desk looked like someone had tried to solve world problems with ink and paper.

The only plus—this place smelled way better than my room: a delicate scent of lilies drifted through the air.

I sighed to myself, realizing even my room in the real world had been cleaner.

I rolled up my sleeves and, for the first time in my life, set about cleaning with the determination of a Japanese housewife prepping for New Year’s.

Fifteen minutes later, I’d scrubbed the windows, made the bed to Japanese futon perfection, and sorted all the clothes by color and fabric type.

Even my mom would be impressed, I thought proudly, alphabetizing the books.

When I decided to clean the floor, I went out into the hallway—there had to be a storage closet with cleaning supplies.

But as soon as I opened the door, a broom shot out like a torpedo and started smacking me without asking any questions.

It took me a few minutes to establish dominance over the broom, and only then could I actually start sweeping the floor.

When I finished, the room looked immaculate. Even a sunbeam slipping through the window seemed surprised.

Just then, the door opened and Evelyn walked in.

She froze on the threshold, her gaze slowly scanning the room before landing on me.

“You did this yourself?” Her voice was suspicious, as if she’d expected to find a squad of elf-cleaners.

“Of course, my lady,” I replied coolly, suppressing the urge to flash a victory sign. “It’s called a deep clean. My grandmother’s method.”

Evelyn seemed to ignore my explanation and carefully looked over the room again.

“Interesting… but it’s bad. Do it over,” she said, with a note of irritation.

“What?” I couldn’t help myself. “Why is it bad? I did everything right!”

Evelyn looked at me as if no one had ever dared talk back to her before.

“Then tell me, where’s the book I was reading this morning?” she pointed to the table where it had recently been.

“Uh… it’s on the bookshelf,” I answered uncertainly, but when I looked, it was gone. Even though I was sure I’d put it there.

Evelyn noticed and pressed on:

“Where’s my day-off dress?”

“It’s on the bed,” I blurted out, “on top of the other neatly folded clothes.”

That’s when it hit me—I’d cleaned up too well.

“Okay, then where’s my—” she started, but I interrupted:

“All right, I get it! I cleaned too well…” I made a time-out gesture and turned beet red.

Evelyn sighed:

“Fine, then make breakfast. Can you handle that?”

I smiled at her, suddenly confident:

“With pleasure, my lady! Your stomach won’t regret it.”

I said it with all the enthusiasm in the world, having no idea what that would lead to later.