The first thing Felix became aware of was softness. A plush warmth enveloped him, silken sheets brushing against his skin like a gentle tide lapping at a shore. He stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. His head throbbed faintly, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the piercing light that seemed to come from everywhere.

He tried to ignore his aching head in favor of the comfortable cloud cocooning his body. Slender limbs slid across the cool silk that felt heavenly against naked skin.

Wait. Since when did he sleep naked?

Willow leaf brows furrowed in confusion and when he finally cracked his eyelids open, the world beyond was a blur of silver and white. It was nothing like the messy, cluttered college dorm he shared with three other boys, with its old posters of rock bands and sneakers scattered across the floor. This was clean, pristine, and entirely unfamiliar.

Felix sat up abruptly, the movement sending a disorienting wave of nausea through him. "What the hell?" His voice came out quieter than he expected, like a soft drawl, smooth and disturbingly coquettish. Almost like... purring? But that was ridiculous.

His hands clutched the edge of the bed for balance, and he froze. His hands. Pale, delicate hands with long, slender fingers. Felix blinked and brought them closer to his face. The nails were sharper than he remembered, almost claw-like, and the skin—he turned his hands over—was a creamy alabaster, entirely devoid of blemishes, freckles, or even a single callus.

These were not the hands of a college aged boy who was active in sports and held a pen for nearly eighteen years.

Heart racing, he threw off the covers and stumbled toward a mirror across the room. For a moment, he was nearly startled out of his skin and thought he was looking at a wraith—and quite a beautiful one at that.

The boy staring back at him was eerily beguiling in a way that felt unreal, like an eidolon found only in old memories or daydreams. Silvery-white hair spilled down his back, soft as clouds, catching the light in a halo-like shimmer. Poppy red eyes—yes, red—gazed back at him, wide and disbelieving. Long and wispy lashes veiled those ruby orbs delicately, like translucent moth wings.

Felix reached up and touched his face, almost expecting to come into contact with porcelain, so smooth and flawless it was. The coolness of his fingers against his warm cheek confirmed what he was seeing. This was clearly him, but very different at the same time. 

For one thing, it was as if every feature had been polished and refined to the whimsical extreme, creating a more perfect version of himself. Any flaws and human imperfections seemed to have been bled away to leave behind this life size porcelain doll—and taking along with it all the melanin in his body. He wouldn’t even have recognized himself if not for the shape of his eyes and familiar stubborn set to his chin.

"What the actual hell?" Again, that soft drawl came from his throat, but this time taking on a tinge of kittenish indignation. He instantly clutched at his throat, appalled. His reflection mirrored him, complete with a scrunched up nose and confused expression.

The last thing Felix remembered was lounging out on the sunny campus grounds after the end of year finals. Somehow he had gotten into the crossfires of a fight between his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend, and he hadn't been paying attention. That had earned him a solid hit to the head with a brick masquerading as a designer purse, and everything went black after that. So, naturally, he’d assumed he was either unconscious in the nurse’s office or lying in a hospital bed somewhere. This... this didn’t feel like either of those scenarios.

He leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting every detail of this familiar stranger. Beneath the initial panic, he couldn’t help but marvel. He’d never been lacking in the looks department—in a boy next door kind of way—but now…

He would totally bang himself, if he did say so himself. Unable to resist, he stroked at the velvety smoothness of his skin and sucked in his stomach to better admire the subtle but perfectly sculpted abs. The form he never could get his own soft tummy to take.

It was only after his hand wandered a little too far below that he realized the weirdness of his actions. He instantly snapped out of the intoxication of his own perfection.

What am I even thinking? Felix shook his head, stepping back from the mirror. This wasn’t the time to have a Narcissus moment. He needed answers. Throwing on a silky robe he found folded at the foot of the bed, he began to examine what looked like the master bedroom in earnest.

It stretched out around him like something from an interior design magazine spread. The walls were a dove gray, and the furniture gleamed in polished white and silver tones. A massive glass window dominated one side of the room, offering a breathtaking view of a sprawling city bathed in golden light. Skyscrapers jutted toward the sky, along with geometric structures, high rises and sleek pillars in the Art Deco style.

Felix approached the window cautiously, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. He pressed his hands against the cool glass, his breath fogging it as he stared. The city looked... almost familiar. Like Singapore, the island he lived in his whole life, but not quite.

His hearing suddenly picked up the faint hum of machinery outside, the distant murmur of voices. When he focused, he could even catch snippets of conversations several floors below—fragments of laughter, hurried greetings, the metallic clang of something dropping.

Felix yanked himself back from the window, his heart pounding. "Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," he whispered, the words uttered almost involuntarily in his daze.

*

Determined to understand his situation, Felix began exploring the rest of the apartment. The first thing that struck him was the sheer elegance of the place. Everything was meticulously organized, from the minimalist decor to the perfectly arranged throw pillows on the couch. It looked completely unlived in as if this was just a model apartment.

He opened the fridge, expecting something mundane like leftovers or soda. Instead, he found rows upon rows of milk bottles, neatly arranged and labeled with dates. Next to them were cans of something labeled "Premium Tuna Delight." Felix frowned, picking one up. The can was adorned with a cartoonish logo of a cat wearing a crown.

"Okay, that’s weird," he muttered, placing it back.

Further exploration revealed more oddities—about the apartment and himself. Passing by the walls, he saw abstract art hung in gilded frames. At first, he thought nothing of it, but maybe it was because of the angle or lighting but each piece seemed to hint at feline forms—curved tails, sharp ears, or slitted eyes hidden in the patterns.

In the living area, sat a sleek, modern couch in pristine white, but its armrests had subtle grooves, and for some reason Felix thought they looked strangely inviting. Likewise, a towering structure to the left caught his eye—an odd piece of avant-garde furniture. At first glance, it looked like a minimalist sculpture, but closer inspection revealed it was covered in soft, scratchable material.

"A scratching post?" Felix muttered, his brow furrowing.

A candle on the coffee table exuded a faintly sweet, earthy aroma that tickled something deep inside him, making his head tilt involuntarily as he sniffed at it. Unbeknownst to him, pupils dilated in pleasure at the scent.

He spent a few more seconds just inhaling the minty fragrance before snapping out of it.

Taking a few hasty steps away, he came across a squat cabinet near the balcony that housed an array of small bells, feathered trinkets, and glimmering ornaments. They looked like toys—just not for children. He felt an urging to pick them up and fiddle with them. So he tried opening the doors, only to inadvertently claw it with his nails. A tingle instantly shot up his back.

“...”

For all the peculiarities, there was one glaring absence. “No cats,” Felix murmured, his voice echoing faintly in the luxurious stillness. 

“I’ve heard of catfishing, but this? This is a whole new level.”

Every detail seemed to scream cat, yet the apartment felt utterly devoid of any living creatures besides himself. It was as if someone had designed it with a feline overlord in mind, yet no actual feline could be found. The dissonance gnawed at him, his earlier assumptions about his situation beginning to crack.

He stood in the center of the living room, a growing unease prickling at the back of his mind. Every part of this space seemed meticulously curated, crafted with care and precision. Yet somehow, it wasn’t human.

Not for a human.

Giving the surroundings a doubtful sweep again, Felix ruffled his snowy tresses in bewilderment. "What kind of life did I wake up in?"

Maybe he should go back to sleep and hope this was some bizarre concoction of his concussed brain.