Chapter Text
Kim adjusted the strap of the heavy satchel bag slung over his shoulder, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting up from the bag. The further he moved from the clean roads of the central market, the more cracked and uneven the streets became, until the tidy facades of Henituse’s prosperous town blurred into the jagged images of the slums.
The air was different here, it was thicker and less hopeful.
And apparently, so was he.
‘It’s always the same no matter where I go.’
No matter how glorious and prosperous a territory is, the slums don't disappear. Afterall, poverty is shit, and it loves spreading shit to others.
Kim could feel it—the glances. Quick and sharp, curious and mildly suspicious. His complexion was lighter than most locals, his clothes foreign, and his catlike features barely hidden beneath the edges of his hoodie drew attention like moths to a flame.
His feline ears stayed alerted.
-Ssob, are we really going to meet my sister!? waah! A reunion!
Kim wisely ignored the chattering old man.
‘Just look down, walk fast, and try not to breathe through your nose too much.’
He clutched the bag of bread closer to his chest. The loaves were still warm, freshly bought from the bakery down the street who looked at him weirdly when he buy said he will buy anything but shut up quickly when Kim’s money speak, Kim remembered how they audibly gasp and look at him as if he’s an angel sent and quickly wrapped the pack of bread as the other stalls or stores shot a suspicious and some jealous glances at his way.
“I have to feed a tree,” he muttered bitterly under his breath, climbing the narrow, winding path that twisted up one of the slum’s nearby hills. “This ancient power must be worth it of my penny.”
‘Money doesn’t matter, I can just cash out directly from Alberu’s funds through the use of a golden plaque.’
In his spatial bag, just beside the Kakaotalk device, there lay the golden plaque he can cash out from directly on a bank.
His boots crunched over dried leaves as he moved higher. The sky was tinged a pale gold, casting shadows that made the looming figure of the gnarled old dark tree ahead look even more disgusting and so fantasy-like worthy.
-ssob! My sister!
This was the place.
The hole or the man-eating tree. The next ancient power. Before Kim could take another step, a tiny voice cried out from behind him.
“You can’t approach that t-tree!”
Kim halted, shoulders tensing. He turned slowly, squinting toward the base of the hill. There, on the path, stood two children.
The girl—maybe ten, eleven years old, held her younger brother’s hand tightly. Her silver hair was messy and tangled, her clothes patched and dusty. But her eyes—bright and golden like her brother’s, were wide with sincere fear.
“You can’t go there!” the little brother added, tugging on his sister’s hand. “It’s a man-eating tree!”
“You’re going to die! Don’t do it!”
Kim sighed.
Loudly.
He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and groaned. “Sigh.”
‘There are always nosy punks no matter where you go.’
He turned around with a scowl, his hood slipping slightly to reveal the soft fur of his ears. The girl’s gaze landed on them, and her mouth fell open slightly.
Her courage clearly wavered under his unimpressed expression, and she stumbled over her words. “I-it’s a man-eating tree. You’re going to d-die.”
Kim stared at her.
Then tossed a full loaf of bread at her feet.
“I won’t die,” he said flatly. “Take that and get lost.”
The girl blinked. The boy let out a surprised squeak, diving forward to pick it up.
“You… you shouldn’t go…” she tried again.
Kim turned his back on her. “I said I won’t die. Now scram.”
Kim continued to walk, although he did not show it, something is bothering him. He felt a ring of kinship in those siblings. One thing is that he can see himself on them because of Kim Rok Soo’s childhood who got nothing left but just suffering that was too much for a child to bear and the experience and hardships he got from being a stray, begging for foods—fearing the storms because you got no shelter to hide, scavenging through trash, being ridiculed by people and the hunger.
But that’s not all of it, if there’s one thing he trusted the most other than money, it’s his nose.
The sibling doesn’t smell like humans, but like him. But different, It’s akin to his smell but not exactly alike. Probably because he’s a normal cat in the beginning with—Kim arrived at the conclusion of the beast people and the tribes.
‘Are they abandoned or lost?’
Kim huffed, he got no need to worry since it’s not his business, but maybe the next time he go and feed the tree and the sibling are still there, maybe Kim would offer them meat and cake, perhaps even medical herbs or even a pouch of money that they could use to stay on an inn and get them a job on the Henituse territory.
-my sister ssob!
He approached the gaping maw of the tree. It was eerily quiet. The wind rustled the dead leaves around him, but the moment he stood before the trunk, even the air seemed to pause.
The hole in the tree pulsed like it was breathing.
‘It’s black.’
Kim knelt down and reached into his bag. He unwrapped the loaves one by one and shoved them—somewhat aggressively—into the dark hole.
Kim refused to touch the black thing on the hole, his cat instinct and nose were screaming at him not to lay a finger on it. It was akin to the feeling when he first saw Alberu’s dark form.
‘No way, is it dead mana? What the fuck is dead mana doing in here?’
-ssob, that’s right! It’s dead mana! Let brother eat a lot and that dead mana will be gone, ssob!
“I’m planning to do that from the beginning with.”
“Here,” he grumbled. “Take it. You can’t die.”
He shoved another one in. “Don’t eat people. Just eat this.”
Another. “You hear me? Bread, Not bones.”
“Eat a lot, and you better be worth it wasting my money to buy good bread for you.” Kim grumbled and lazily put another bag of bread to the hole. Kim did not question where those bread are piled up since it clearly defied the law of science.
-Ssob! Brother is really strong and sturdy so you don’t need to worry! He’s kinda a glutton though.
A pause.
“…Though I guess bread’s still bones of wheat or something.” He blinked. “Why am I even talking to you?”
After feeding it, Kim exalted and then saw two cats, red and silver with both golden eyes. Kim sighed,
‘I knew it.’
zZz
It’s been two days at most, and a lot of things have changed.
The halls of the Henituse estate were quiet that night, but Kim felt like every eye behind every pillar, every flickering light was watching him.
And maybe they were.
‘I should’ve gone to the man-eating tree again tomorrow.’
Kim tugged his hood down a little lower, ignoring the fine fabric of his borrowed cloak that felt too soft, too expensive, too not-his. The boots were stiff. The embroidery on the fabric of his clothes made him twitch, Kim can only sighed internally, from what he heard from the assassin butler who’s probably hitting off well with Choi Han along with his son Beacrox to fulfilled the canon events, the clothes he’s using right now is from younger Cale’s wardrobe.
Hans on the other hand has absolute knack and passion that he’s just tired as Cale is whenever he returns from his daily sparring with Choi Han after a morning of the ginger butler fusing around him.
“Everyone’s looking at me weird,” he mumbled to himself as he passed a servant, who immediately bowed.
Not even subtly. The glances, the whispers, the weird respectful nods, they were relentless and everywhere.
‘News travel so fast.’ He sighs.
Because now, to the Henituse estate, he wasn’t just some nameless brat and a guest, he was now the proclaimed son of the eldest and trash of the count’s family. Just greeeat.
He was “Cale’s son.” Although it has its benefits like being able to walk around freely and not having to go through the troubles of getting documentation and registering all that stuff, still, he still finds it unpleasant.
It’s one thing that it’s Cale out of all people, but the other? Kim hasn't found or is still contemplating how he would explain it to Alberu.
‘I knew that guy so well, like the back of my fingers.’
Alberu would sulk, get angry, whine a lot with those eyes that’s too annoying to handle.
Kim grimaced.
Though, he needs to make this whole secret child somehow work.
‘I hate how that lie kinda works. Stupid red hair. Stupid pale skin. Stupid eyebrows.’
The more he denied it, the more the resemblance slapped him in the face whenever he looked in a mirror. And now he couldn’t go five minutes without someone bowing, whispering, or treating him like he belonged here.
When he most definitely did not.
‘My place is not here.’
He had just collapsed onto his bed with a sigh when—
BANG.
His door flew open.
“You’re coming to dinner.”
Kim flinched upright.
“Do you ever knock?” he hissed.
Cale Henituse stood in the doorway with all the energy of a pissed-off storm cloud in nobleman's clothes, he seemed to be sweating as well. Choi Han is beating him up thoroughly but properly for him, it seems. And Cale, that sore loser who got pride and ego taller than a mountain itself is not surrendering and instead fueled further to push forward and land a hit on Choi Han.
‘Choi Han said that there’s aura smoke coming out of Cale’s sword already. Is there any mention that Cale Henituse is a strong individual as well?’
Kim doesn’t give a shit if Cale is strong when his personality is the worst.
“No. Get dressed. You’ve been invited to the family dinner.”
Kim blinked. “Wh—Why me?”
“Because you’re ‘my son,’ apparently,” Cale snapped, finger-quoting aggressively. “And I’ve already committed to this bit in front of my father, my stepmother, my brother, and my sister. So if I suffer, you’re suffering with me.”
‘Meet the family, I guess.’
“…Fair,” Kim muttered, dragging himself off the bed.
‘Alberu, get your dried salmon prepared, I’m coming back with a lot of problems and nerve wracking situations to share.’
Kim even imagined that the crown prince would be laughing at his misery.
Kim would let it slide if he does, just to lighten up the crown prince’s anger that was directed to Kim once they reunited again.
zZz
The dining room was large, warm, and elegant, filled with soft candlelight and the softest sounds of silverware being arranged.
But to Kim, it felt like he’d walked into a gladiator arena.
Count Deruth sat at the head of the table, nervous and tired, the lines on his face deeper than he remembered from the portrait on the wall. Beside him was Countess Violan—sharp-eyed, with a posture so straight it made Kim instinctively sit straighter.
Basen and Lily were already seated across from two empty seats.
Kim caught them glancing at him. A mixture of curiosity and confusion flickered across their expressions.
‘What a family.’ Kim can already assume what’s the dynamic of this family.
“Ah,” Count Deruth said as Cale led Kim to the table. “You’ve brought… him.”
Kim felt his palms go clammy.
“Good evening,” Cale said smoothly, then turned to Kim. “Sit. Don't embarrass me.”
‘That’s not how you treat your son, fucker, everyone would assume you’re abusive at first sight.’
Kim sat immediately, Awkwardly, and stiffly.
“Hello,” he said, voice dry as Caro Kingdom climate, “I’m Kim.”
A long pause.
“I am a half cat. ”
Another pause.
Violan raised an eyebrow. “I see.”
Basen leaned forward a little. “Your name is… just Kim?”
“Yes.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “You have red hair like my brother.”
Kim nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately.”
Cale kicked him lightly under the table. Kim coughed. “I mean, yes. I do.”
The tension in the room thickened like overcooked stew. Kim could feel Count Deruth studying him.
“This… situation,” Deruth began carefully, “is rather sudden.”
Violan’s lips were a thin line. “Very sudden.”
“I assure you,” Cale muttered, setting down his wine goblet, “there’s a reason I didn’t bring it up sooner.”
“Oh?” Violan tilted her head. “And that reason would be?”
Kim shifted in his seat.
‘Cale is gonna lie through his teeth again, whatever.’
Cale sighed heavily. “If I’d told you earlier, there would have been questions, gossip, and accusations. Damage to the family’s name. To the County’s standing.”
“So you lied,” Deruth said. Not accusing. Just… flat, obviously knowing that Cale is lying.
Kim glanced between them nervously. Wow.
‘Okay. This is worse than that time Choi Han and Cale almost punched each other.’
“I didn’t lie.”
Violan folded her hands. “You told us he’s three years old. That is a child who looks nearly fourteen.”
‘Exactly, I believe no one in this room believes him no matter how Cale explained it.’
“Cat tribe,” Cale replied bluntly. “Aging’s weird. Look it up.”
‘That’s not how it works, but why’s nobody objecting to it? Even the knowledgeable Basen is not raising a question and just accepts Cale’s reasoning as if it’s really true?’
Kim tried not to shrink. He felt like a rabbit surrounded by hunting hounds. He made the mistake of opening his mouth.
“I am only here temporarily.”
Violan’s eyebrow raised a millimeter.
“I’ll not be a burden,” Kim said more firmly. “Thank you for everyone’s consideration.”
Silence.
“You brat, that’s not it.” Cale groaned.
Violan just sighs, Basen and Lily looked at him with interest? Then Deruth leaned back with a weary sigh. “And why are you here, Kim?”
Kim hesitated. Then looked at Cale.
Cale sighed again and answered for him. “Because he is lost, got dropped out of the sky literally and he’s under my protection now. End of story.”
Death's gaze softened slightly. Just a sliver.
Countess Violan still looked like she was deciding whether to let this slide or interrogate him further. But the topic dropped. For now.
“Ehem,” Deruth coughed to get his attention which irked Kim to raise his brows, “Can I ask you something, Kim?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Call me grandpa—hmp, darling!” Deruth was elbowed softly by Violan beside him.
Silence.
“Sure, Count grandpa.”
Violan smiled at him, Kim just opened his mouth without thinking, “And… Countess grandma.”
“Are they being for real?” He heard Cale whisper to himself as Cale put his broccoli to his plates.
“Hey, that should be the other way around. Me, putting vegetables on your plates.” Kim just sighed.
“We disregard stereotypes in this house.”
The Henituse family just watched carefully, Lily and Basen whispering to each other and constantly asking something about Kim.
Dinner passed with a strange atmosphere. Every now and then, Lily would ask him about his feline characteristics and Basen asked if he liked the estate. Kim gave short answers, trying not to choke on the food, which was—admittedly—delicious, although he knew its Beacrox cooking, he did not lose his appetite which is shocking.
When they finally stood, dismissed with a nod from Deruth, Kim exhaled like he’d survived a battle.
zZz
Later, outside the dining hall, Kim just says a few words with Cale who’s tired and beaten up, when Lily snuck up beside him.
“Kim dongsaeng ! Do you want to see the garden?” she asked brightly.
‘It’s not like I can refuse the Count’s children.’
“…Sure.”
Basen joined in with an awkward smile. “We can show you the pond too.”
Kim blinked. “Why?”
Lily tilted her head. “Because you’re our nephew now?”
Kim stared. Then slowly, he nodded.
“…Okay. Just for a bit.”
‘What the hell is happening to my life?’ he thought. ‘I was supposed to be in this territory for just a short while. Not roleplaying as a ‘child’ of a noble family.’
Still, when Lily grabbed his hand and Basen walked beside him, he didn’t pull away.
'The goldfish on the pond is attracting me to devour it, though.'
zZz
The room was quiet—too quiet, almost. Kim stirred beneath the thick blanket, eyes fluttering open to the still darkness around him.
For once, nothing had chased him awake. No dreams, no loud voices, no explosions, and no bickering between Cale and Choi Han vibrating through the walls.
Just… silence.
‘I should be happy about that, right?’
His cat-like ears twitched under the blanket. Slowly, Kim sat up, the moonlight filtering through the thin curtains showering everything in silver. He pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees.
‘Why does peace feel… so hollow sometimes?’
Kim—in his past life, Kim Rok Soo was always alone and lonely yet he never felt so hollow like this before.
He blinked at the soft glow on his nighstand . A single item sat there, the kakaotalk device. He grabbed it carefully, as if it might crack in his hands now. Pressed it as infinite messages show up.
And there they were.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of unread messages. Kakaotalk notifications are piling up, all from the same sender.
[Alberu]
[Alberu]
[Alberu]
[Alberu]
[Where did you go?]
[Kim, answer me.]
[Are you safe?]
[It’s late. I’ll wait. Go find a shelter to sleep for tonight, the storm is harsh.]
[Come back already or else I’ll throw all your dried salmon.]
He scrolled through them one by one, heart sinking and swelling all at once.
Alberu’s messages were scattered—sometimes frantic, sometimes composed. Sometimes angry. Mostly… worried.
Stupid crown prince. Kim’s throat tightened.
He hugged the device to his chest.
It was ridiculous. It wasn’t even warm. It was just a dumb circular object—but still… his fingers curled around it as though he could pretend Alberu’s warmth clung to it.
‘The cat’s instinct is acting up, that's why.’
“Sorry,” he murmured, voice nearly lost in the blanket. “I didn’t mean to disappear.”
His thumbs hovered over the screen. One by one, he started replying, but due to the fact that he is not a mage, he can’t send those messages.
“Alberu, hmm it's been a while. I did run away and now I’m a bastard son of Cale Henituse—before you blamed me, I, too, did not expect this development so don’t get angry with me. Then there’s this guy named Choi Han who’s a swordmaster, he’s a kind one but can be vicious especially around Cale. They bicker a lot, like a lot. Choi Han will be good for the kingdom but for god’s sake, don’t overwork that guy. Then there’s this old man named Ron, he’s very scary. Then Beacrox, who cooked so good, I’m sorry not sorry to say this but his dried salmon tastes better than yours.”
Kim rambled, then went quiet.
“Wait for me, we’ll meet again, Alberu. So sit tight, I know your patience is thin like your hairline but I’m fine. You should sleep on time, eat a lot and fucked up the nobles like you usually do.”
Of course, they didn’t go through.
He sighed and put the device back under his pillow.
Then his stomach growled, loudly.
“…I knew I should’ve stuffed myself with more steak during dinner,” he muttered, rubbing his belly.
The family dinner had been—well, awkward. Painfully so. He hadn’t eaten much. Couldn’t eat much. Not when Count Deruth was looking at him like he was a weird puzzle piece from another box, and Violan had that watching-you-like-a-hawk stare.
And Cale—
Kim groaned and got up.
zZz
The kitchen was massive.
‘I want to eat so badly.’
Kim padded inside, barefoot, quiet as a cat. He tugged open the icebox, rummaged around for anything edible. His eyes lit up as he spotted leftover grilled salmon, a small pitcher of milk, and—
“Oho?”
Cookies.
Bless. He didn’t even care what kind they were.
He stacked the salmon neatly, grabbed the milk, and stuffed the cookies under one arm like they were national treasure. With his other hand full, he kicked the fridge shut gently with his heel.
Then—
A flash.
THUNK.
Kim’s body moved on instinct, jumping to the side. A knife embedded itself in the cabinet behind him, still vibrating.
He blinked.
His tails stood up and curled against him as his ears were alerted but were quickly flattened.
“Oh. Oh no.”
Slowly, he turned.
There, standing at the doorway with the presence of a well-dressed serial killer, was Beacrox. Eyes sharp and arms crossed. Apron spotless and another knife glinting in his hand.
“...I’m still alive,” Kim blurted before he could stop himself. “I mean, uh, hello.”
Beacrox said nothing. Kim’s ears—betraying him entirely—drooped.
‘I’m going to die. This is it. Killed for stealing midnight snacks. What a lame way to go.’
“I was just—um—hungry,” he began, inching toward the counter like he could use it for cover. “Didn’t eat much at dinner because, well, Cale kind of ambushed me with the whole ‘you’re my child’ thing and everyone stared at me like I grew a second tail—which I didn’t, by the way, thank you very much.”
Beacrox didn’t move.
Kim held up the salmon and cookies in surrender. “I didn’t touch your knives. I swear.”
Beacrox narrowed his eyes. “What are you holding?”
Kim looked down at his spoils. “Salmon, cookies and Milk.”
Beacrox tilted his head, gaze assessing. “You broke into my kitchen to steal my prepared food and milk and cookies?”
“…Yes?” Kim squeaked. “In my defense, they’re really good. Like, suspiciously good. Why are the cookies so soft? Did you put magic in them or something? Are you a mage in disguise?”
Kim once again used the power of kids, the naivety of youth although he doesn't know.if it will work on this man.
There was a long pause.
Then—surprisingly—Beacrox sighed.
“…Tch. Eat it. Just don’t make a mess.”
Kim blinked. “Wait, really?”
The man turned his back with an air of resigned contempt. “You think I’d waste ingredients on someone with no palate? Eat and get out.”
Kim stared, stunned. ‘Did… I just get let off the hook?’
“Uh… thank you?” he mumbled.
No response.
As Beacrox disappeared into the shadows like a grumpy cooking mama, Kim scuttled to a corner with his haul and began eating quickly.
zZz
The next morning, Kim sat at the long breakfast table, still half-asleep and twitchy. Hans set down his plate, Kim blinked at it.
Beside his breakfast, there’s a side dish of dried salmon, a glass of milk and a stack of freshly baked cookies.
He looked up. “Huh?”
No one answered. But he saw Beacrox passing, back turned, arms crossed like he didn’t care one bit.
Kim grinned faintly.
Still terrifying, though.
He picked up the cookie, ears flicking slightly, and bit into it.
“…God. He does put magic in these.”
And just like that, the loneliness from the night before seemed a little easier to carry.
zZz
There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand.
Why the world he’d fallen into was so cruel. Why people like the villagers of Harris Village could be taken so easily. Why someone like Kim, a soft bundle of fur and sarcasm, was left alone in it.
And why—above all—Cale Henituse was the way he was.
Choi Han inhaled slowly as he stepped into the training hall, blade at his side. The air smelled faintly of old wood, sweat, and something burning. Not literally. Just the kind of burn that came from unresolved tension.
From rage.
From confusion.
From… Cale.
He didn’t know how he’d ended up sparring with that man again. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was self-torture. Maybe it was because he’d caught Cale teaching Kim how to “swing a frying pan with maximum strength” and decided the man needed supervision.
Kim.
Choi Han’s fingers twitched slightly.
That kid had been a strange interruption in his life, in the middle of a storm where he was blinded by vengeance and revenge. A child with cat ears, sharp eyes, and a mouth that never stayed shut. And yet—gentle. Honest. Not innocent, but... real.
When Kim looked up at him, Choi Han felt something twist inside him. Something that had been dead and buried along with Harris Village, it was family. That was the word, familiarity.
Kinship.
Kim was a blessing, he felt drawn to the kid even though he don't know why. One he didn’t know how to accept, but couldn’t reject.
He wanted to protect him.
He needed to.
Because Kim was still a child, and children deserved better.
Which was why, now, as he stood in the training hall facing that man, Choi Han’s jaw tensed.
Cale Henituse.
The one who—despite everything—helped.
He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to.
And now, he had to make sure the idiot nobleman who called himself Kim’s father didn’t ruin it.
“Are you going to start or just keep staring at me like a sad housewife?” Cale’s voice snapped, slicing through Choi Han’s thoughts like a dull knife.
Choi Han’s brow twitched.
“I was debating whether you’re worth the effort today.”
Cale rolled his eyes and lifted his sword—wrong, sloppy, and off-balance but determined.
“Spare me the lecture. I already know I’m not good. I didn’t invite you here to be judged.”
“No,” Choi Han said, stepping into stance. “But you still need someone to remind you not to stab yourself.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
(“I fuck your mom” that’s what Kim would say if he’s in Choi Han shoe.)
“Tsk. You're holding that like it’s a quill pen,” Choi Han muttered, unable to stop himself.
Cale raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t need to if you weren’t so obsessed with waving that oversized knife around like some feral dog.”
Choi Han’s grip twitched. “A sword is a discipline, not a showpiece.”
“A personality replacement, in your case,” Cale shot back, eyes glinting.
Steel rang against steel.
The first few strikes were routine—Choi Han guiding, Cale resisting, both circling like wolves that hated each other too much to stop. And maybe he did hate Cale, or maybe that was too simple.
Because the man he hated wasn’t just arrogant. He was confusing.
He insulted the dead, laughed and drank from dusk till dawn and passed out cruel truths like crumbs on stone.
But then—he helps Kim on going through all the troubles from registry and stuff by claiming that Kim is his bastard son (he still doesn't like it till now) and he saw him that asshole once while wandering around the streets on a shopping spree for Kim’s clothes and accomodation. Give Ron a trusted glance. Throw bottles of alcohol at gangsters, which was said by Kim. He picked fights with the world like someone who cared but didn’t want anyone to see that he did.
It made Choi Han’s head hurt.
“You’re distracted,” Cale said, swinging wide and missing.
“You’re terrible,” Choi Han replied, parrying lazily.
“Yet here you are, still entertaining me. Could it be that you like me?”
“I’d rather bathe in acid.”
Cale smirked, even as his form faltered again. He wasn’t used to the sword. That much was obvious. But he hadn’t given up. Not since the last match, not since Choi Han saw that faint curl of aura around his sword.
And today, it was there again, crimson aura smoke. Not still an aura like his but just a mist. Choi Han is confused because it was obvious that Cale neglected his sword lessons in the past yet he’s here already having aura smoke when the man holding the sword is not even tough enough.
It made Choi Han's blood somehow coiled.
Choi Han developed his aura in god knows how many years it took—going through bloodshed and slaughtered the monsters from the Forest of Darkness. But Cale Henituse is somehow talented enough—no maybe genetics? unnatural phenomenon that he can’t even comprehend because this world is not similar to the world he once knew?
But facts still remain, Choi Han goes through countless suffering from the monsters of the Forest of Darkness. But the drunk bastard in front of him already got aura smoke when he just recently picked up a sword again.
Choi Han hates Cale Henituse, and it would stay that way.
(Choi Han felt envy from Cale Henituse, and he doesn't know why.)
Cale Henituse still has a family, grew up in the comfort of luxury and is extremely talented.
(Choi Han hates Cale Henituse, and god knows how he wants it to stay that way.)
But there was a similarity between the two of them.
Conviction.
Choi Han’s eyes narrowed.
“Why do you keep trying?” he asked, voice flat between strikes.
Cale blinked. “Because I don’t enjoy the sensation of being stabbed?”
“That’s not it.” Choi Han pushed him back hard enough to make him stumble. “You’re pushing yourself to exhaustion, still show up from our sparring even though it’s obvious that I’ll still beat you up at the end?”
Cale didn’t answer.
That silence said enough.
So Choi Han said it for him.
“It’s because you still have something to protect.”
The spar halted.
Cale stared at him, sweat sliding down his cheek. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard a hallucination.”
Choi Han stepped forward, sword tip brushing Cale’s. “You pretend to be trash. But you don’t fight like one and you don't act like one.”
“You clearly haven’t read the newspaper columns.”
“I’ve seen you with Kim and your family.”
That made Cale pause. His jaw clenched.
“You show up wanting to get strong, not for reputation. You spar with me as a form of training because you’re scared of losing someone. You train because you finally realized you have something—someone—to protect, and for once in your life, you don’t want to run.”
“…You think you know everything,” Cale muttered.
“I don’t,” Choi Han said. “But I know that I’ve seen you sighing when Kim's ears flattened. Your brows furrow when you watch your younger sister get hurt when training with his instructor. I’ve seen you furious when maids or servants talked bad about your younger brother. When you stay quiet and listen to the Countess even though you pretend not to and how you looked at the Count with an awkward—but with care every time you interact. You don’t want to admit it, but you care.”
Cale turned away slightly, sword tip lowering. “This is why no one likes you.”
“This is why you need me.”
Cale groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you ever stop moralizing?”
“When you stop pretending.”
“Then we’ll both die first.”
Choi Han didn’t stop, “you also have developed an aura of smoke.”
Cale blinked. Then narrowed his eyes. “So are you saying I’m special now? Should I get a cake?”
“You’d probably choke on it.”
“Oh, look who suddenly learned sarcasm. Was that a muscle you hadn’t trained yet?”
“Stop talking,” Choi Han snapped, but he couldn’t hide the twitch of his lips.
The match ended with Cale gasping, leaning on his knees, and Choi Han standing above him, victorious as expected.
And yet…
He sheathed his sword slowly.
He hated Cale.
And yet.
He looked down at the man who had picked up a sword again, years later.
“…You’re still weak,” Choi Han said.
“I’m aware,” Cale huffed.
“Then I’ll train you.”
Cale looked up, suspicious. “Why? So you can stab me more efficiently?”
“That, but also because you have people.”
Cale stared at him.
“…Like the Henituse family,” Choi Han added quietly.
“…Oh.”
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Choi Han said, suddenly annoyed again. “I still hate you.”
“Thank god. I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
They were interrupted by a soft gasp at the doorway.
Choi Han turned.
There, peeking in with wide eyes and twitching ears, was Kim.
The kid was hugging a pillow, clearly having snuck in to watch. His expression was half awe, half sleepy
“Was that a love confession?” Kim asked.
Choi Han’s expression cracked, and Cale groaned audibly.
“You’re grounded,” Cale snapped.
“I’m not even your kid—wait. Yes, I am. Legally. Whatever.”
Choi Han didn’t even try to hide the laugh that broke through.
Kim ran over, grinning, and tugged on his sleeve.
“You looked cool, Choi Han.” Kim said.
That small hand tugging his sleeve.
That soft praise.
Choi Han’s expression softened without permission. He looked down at Kim—and the world quieted.
“…Thank you,” he murmured.
Cale watched him. Then muttered, “Disgusting.”
Choi Han smiled. “You’re just mad I’m the favorite.”
“You’re not.”
“Am too.”
Kim patted both their arms. “You’re both losers, go to sleep for fuck’s sake.”
And somehow, the world felt more right than it had in a long time.
He was still going to make sure they all stayed safe.
Even him.
Especially Kim.
zZz
It was morning again, Kim had a big problem.
‘I don’t have any money anymore.’
Cale or rather the Count gave him a fair amount of allowance, but that all went to buying bags of bread for the ancient power.
‘Would the Count or Cale give me billions of galloon without accusing me of gambling or money laundering?’
Kim doesn't think so.
So Kim needs to use his final resort, the golden plaque.
By the time he reached the merchant’s guild, the streets of the territory were already busy. But people still gave him glances. Some curious, some confused, some outright nervous.
‘Great. I’m the local tabloid scandal now,’ Kim mused, pulling his hood up.
Inside the bank that was managed by Billos, he was led upstairs by an attendant with wide eyes who clearly knew who he was now.
Billos was already there waiting, smiling like a piggy bank, but nearly dropped it when Kim set the golden plaque on the table without any words.
“...Is that...?”
Kim nodded. “Prince Alberu Crossman’s golden plaque.”
Billos blinked. Twice.
“You—”
“I did not steal it, I doubt anyone can.”
“Wha—”
“It’s mine,” Kim clarified, settling into the chair across from him. “I’m cashing it in.”
Billos looked like he aged five years. “That’s worth—”
“About ten billion gallons,” Kim supplied helpfully. “Let’s not lowball each other.”
Billos stared. And then sighed. “You’ve got guts for a kid.”
“I’ve got bills,” Kim replied flatly. “I want a mana disturbtion tool, I don’t mean renting it, I’m buying it, get it from the ten billion gallons I’m cashing in.”
“…What exactly are you planning?”
Kim smiled without warmth. “Nothing much, Just trying not to die.”
The deal was made, the papers signed with Billos’s trembling hands. Kim stood to leave, only pausing at the door.
“You can’t call your father, ‘father,’” he said abruptly, not looking back. “You can’t call your brother, ‘brother.’”
Billos froze.
Kim turned, meeting his gaze. “Are you going to keep being the bastard? Are you satisfied with that?”
The room felt colder.
“It’s okay to throw away something you’ve been doing for ten years,” Kim continued, expression unreadable. “You can’t live like that forever.”
“W—what?”
“I’m Kim, remember that name once you go to the capital.”
And then, without giving him a chance to reply, Kim walked out.
Billos sat in silence.
One hand trembling.
His tea was cold now.
“…Tch,” he muttered.
But he couldn’t shake the boy’s words, for some reason, the child's words somehow made their way through his head.
And hours later, without understanding fully why, he packed his things.
And booked a carriage to the capital.
zZz
Sunlight filtered through the towering windows of the Palace of Joy, casting golden rays across Prince Alberu Crossman’s polished desk—but there was nothing joyous about the expression on his face.
“Repeat that,” he said, voice dangerously low.
His advisor flinched but did as ordered. “A… golden plaque, personally issued from the palace, bearing your crest, was used at the Henituse County’s bank. It was accepted without question. The staff confirmed its authenticity.”
Alberu’s fingers curled slowly over the edge of his desk.
The plaque, the plaque.
The one he gave to—
No. He didn’t finish the thought aloud.
Kim.
The damn cat.
The furball who vanished in the middle of the coronation with barely a trace, leaving behind memories and a hole in Alberu’s chest he’d refused to name.
Tasha, lounging by the window with arms folded, straightened as the tension in the room thickened.
“...Henituse territory,” Alberu muttered. “Northeast.” His frown deepened.
Tasha arched her brow. “You think it’s the ones who took him?”
“I don’t know,” Alberu snapped. “But someone used the plaque. It could’ve only been him… or the ones who possibly sold him.”
Tasha’s expression darkened.
“Kim wouldn’t just hand that over to anyone,” Alberu continued, pushing up from his desk. “He wouldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands unless he was—”
He stopped himself.
Unless he was dead.
The idea felt like ice down his spine. Alberu shook his head. ‘No. No, he’s not the type to die so easily.’
But still.
The thought of that damned cat being handled like a thing, smuggled across continents, used for who knows what—
Alberu’s hands were shaking slightly. He curled them into fists.
“Get me an investigation unit. I want a team dispatched immediately to Henituse County. Stealth and priority search. Get eyes in the territory and find who used that plaque. I want every transaction, every merchant, every breath recorded.”
Tasha watched him carefully. “You’re assuming Kim’s alive.”
Alberu glared. “He’s not dead.”
Tasha held up her hands. “Alright. I believe you, Kim is smart, but your golden plaque being used can only mean one thing. A human use it.”
“Exactly.” Alberu stalked toward the window. “It’s either the person who took Kim or smuggled him, we need to find them before it’s too late.”
“Someone’s using your plaque like it’s pocket change,” she muttered. “Feels like bait, if they’re not aware that it would notify the transaction to you, then they must be dumb.”
Alberu didn’t deny it.
‘If it’s bait… I’ll still take it. I don’t care if it’s a trap. I’ll tear apart the net.’
He remembered Kim curled up on the palace sill, tail twitching, those sharp eyes watching everything as if he knew secrets no one else dared speak.
He remembered quiet nights, the soft meows. Fingers running through fur when the weight of the crown pressed too heavy on his skull.
He remembered warmth.
And now?
Nothing.
Just this distant thread of gold, yanked taut by the faintest tug of possibility.
Alberu breathed out through gritted teeth. “They used my plaque that I gave to Kim out of a whim in that territory. I won’t ignore that.”
Tasha sighed, brushing back a lock of hair as she reached for her dagger belt. “You’re not going to sit still, are you?”
“I’ll wait for the report,” Alberu said coldly. “But if they don’t find him within a week, I’m seriously…”
She smirked. “about to lose it? Don’t. Kim would be displeased if he found you in a state like that, though I wouldn't expect anything less from His Highness, the secretly soft-hearted prince.”
He shot her a glare. “Say that again, and I’ll have you reassigned to sewer patrol, Aunt.”
“I hear the rats there are friendlier than you, nephew” she said dryly.
But Alberu wasn’t listening anymore.
His mind was full of reddish eyes and small paws.
‘Kim. Where are you? Who took you?'
His gut twisted, because some part of him—some old, instinctual, aching part—knew.
Kim was alive.
But he wasn’t just hiding.
Maybe smuggled somewhere or sold.
“Send the team,” Alberu said again, softer this time. “And tell them, If they find so much as a paw print—tell them not to scare him.”
Tasha blinked, watching her prince’s shadow stretch long across the floor.
“He’ll run,” Alberu added, eyes burning with determination. “He always runs.”
zZz
The hill was quiet, too quiet.
Kim finally got the shield ancient power and a reunion was currently happening on his head.
-ssob! sister, finally! I’m glad to see you again!
-How glad I am to see you, Crybaby.
Kim stepped out of the cave, the ancient power now quietly pulsing in his chest like a second heartbeat. His legs felt heavier, his arms sore, but more than that—he felt filled. For the first time since arriving in this damn world, he felt quite strong now.
He squinted up at the sky, dragging a hand through his messy hair.
“…Why does every ancient power location always smell like damp moss and trauma?” he muttered.
As he walked down the hill toward the outskirts of the slums, he caught sight of a small crowd. Loud jeering and someone crying.
‘Of course. Peace never lasted in this world. Not even five minutes.’
Kim narrowed his eyes and approached the sound, spotting two kids—clearly younger, clearly trembling—as three older boys crowded them against a crumbling brick wall.
“Hey!” one of the bigger kids sneered, yanking on the smaller boy’s collar. “You freaks think you can just take bread from our territory?”
“W-We didn’t—!” the little girl stammered, shielding her brother with her arms.
Kim’s brows twitched.
‘Right. That’s enough.’
He stepped between them, expression neutral as his shadow loomed over the bullies.
The older boys turned, surprised.
“…Who the hell—”
Kim pulled out the crest of the Henituse House—gifted by Cale in a very dramatic ceremony involving Cale sarcastically calling him his ‘heir’ and throwing the badge at his chest.
Now, it has its uses.
Kim held it up, voice flat. “Unless you’re looking to get scolded by Count Henituse himself, I suggest you run before I start yelling.”
The three boys went pale.
“Henituse?!”
“He’s bluffing—!”
“I’m not, and you have three seconds.”
They scattered like rats.
Kim exhaled slowly, then turned to the kids, crouching down.
The girl blinked up at him with her large golden eyes.
“…Thank you, mister…”
Kim pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Mister? God, how I miss being called like that.’
“I’m not that old,” he muttered.
He looked them over—messy hair, too-thin limbs, dirt-smudged cheeks. But more than that…
“…You’re not human,” he said, bluntly.
They both flinched.
The boy shrank behind his sister, while the girl's expression sharpened like a blade.
Kim raised a brow. “Relax, neither am I. You smell like…” He sniffed lightly. “Someone from the beast tribe? You’ve got animal forms, right?”
The two children froze.
“I’m Kim,” he said. “I also transform sometimes. You don’t have to say what you are. I already know. But I can take you somewhere safe.”
“Why would you help us?” the girl asked, suspicious.
Kim smirked. “Because I like being a hypocrite, apparently.”
She blinked.
“Come on. Shift if you’re tired. I’ll carry you.”
“…We don’t trust easily.”
“Neither do I,” Kim muttered. “But I can smell blood on you. And I’m guessing no one’s coming back for you. So get over it.”
The siblings hesitated, then shifted—two kittens, one silver with sharp golden eyes and the other red-orange with rounder, more innocent features.
Kim’s arms immediately cradle them. The kittens mewled softly. He sighed in defeat, scooping them up and heading down the slums toward the County gates.
And now, here he was. Acting like a mother duck to two shapeshifting children with trauma written all over their eyes.
“...I’m too young for this,” he mumbled, pushing open the front gate with a shoulder and stepping into the County’s main courtyard.
zZz
Back at the County—
Cale was mid-sentence with Choi Han in the courtyard when he saw Kim walk in with two cats.
No—wait.
The second those cats shifted back into small children, Choi Han’s lips twitched into a pleased hum while Cale’s eye twitched.
“...What is that?”
Kim dropped the kids to the ground like luggage and dusted his hands.
“Your other bastard children since they’re my siblings,” he said dryly.
“What?!”
“They’re beast children,” Ron cut in, appearing from somewhere like a murder-ghost.
Kim immediately took a half-step back from Ron. “Don’t kill them.”
Ron tilted his head. “I wasn’t planning to. They’re too thin to be threats.”
Cale crossed his arms. “Kim. Explain. Now.”
Kim gave Cale a flat look. “They were getting bullied near the slums. I scared off the thugs with your badge. Then I sniffed them and figured out they weren’t human. Sound familiar?”
“…You sniffed them?”
Kim ignored that. “Anyway, they’re with me now. You took me in, so take full responsibility.”
“You’re acting like I adopted you on purpose.”
“Don’t you?”
“Because you were going to go through a lot of trouble if I didn't.”
Kim pointed at the sibling, “Then they were going to get beaten. You’re a noble, do your job.”
Cale opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed into his hand. “I’m not taking any more kids.”
The two kittens-turned-children looked up at him hopefully.
“Please nya?”
“I’m hungry, nya.”
“…Goddamnit,” Cale muttered. “Fine. They’re your problem.”
Choi Han crouched beside the siblings and patted their heads gently. “You’re safe now.”
Kim blinked. “Be more like Choi Han, dad.”
Choi Han gave him a faint smile.
Ron, however, was still watching the children with narrowed eyes.
“…They’re from the Eastern continent,” he said slowly. “Cat tribe, I supposed.”
Kim’s ears twitched slightly, hidden under his hood.
The two children clung to Kim’s sleeves.
“I admired your libido, dad. Three of us, you got three of us now,” he muttered.
Cale raised a brow. “Where did you even learned that you little shit—"
“Guys, introduce yourself to your dad who loves knocking up someone from a cat tribe.” Kim grinned and sent a look to Cale.
“You—”
“I am Hong and I can use poison, I also like meat nya!” Hong beamed, tugging Kim’s sleeve.
“I’m On. I can use fog, and I like meat, too, nya.” On added, her golden eyes were wide.
Choi Han seems taken aback for.a moment while Ron smiled and murmured about “apprentices” or stuff that Kim refused to hear, and Cale just sighed.
Cale massaged his temples. “Do I look like a traveling orphanage?”
“Yes,” Kim, Choi Han, and Ron all said in unison as the old butler appeared behind him without a sound.
“Three children, all nonhuman,” Ron said, peering closely at On and Hong. “Are you planning to collect a set?”
Kim narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t plan to find them, They were being bullied.”
Ron raised a brow. “What an adorable young master.”
Kim looked down. After Ron serves the sibling a delicious meal, the siblings are eating happily.
“…I’m bad at this,” he muttered.
Cale folded his arms. “You’re not the only one. How am I supposed to explain this to my father?”
“Just do the same thing you did with me,” Kim replied coolly. “Lie.”
“You were saying I got more bastard children—”
“You seem like you have dozens of them.”
“I’m a virgin!”
Silence.
Choi Han cleared his throat, clearly trying not to laugh.
zZz
Cale’s room was a disaster.
Not in the literal sense—though frankly, it was skirting the edge of something shameful, with cloaks strewn across chairs like defeated soldiers, boots left in suspicious positions by the door, and snack wrappers staging a quiet uprising beneath the table, but in the social sense.
Too many people.
Too many voices.
It was suffocating.
And yet, somehow, not.
Cale slumped deeper into his couch, arms crossed like a shield, eyes narrowed like he could glare the chaos into submission. “I’m not taking all of you. This isn’t a traveling circus.”
“You say that,” Kim said from the floor, tail flicking lazily like a smug metronome, “but you’re the ringmaster. Congratulations.”
Cale let out a tired breath through his nose. ‘The brat wasn’t wrong. That was the problem.’
On and Hong were nestled like overfed cats under a blanket beside Kim, their recently washed hair still poofy and uncontrollable. Choi Han, ever the infuriating bastard, sat by the window with that unnervingly serene smile as he watched over the kids. Kim smirked at him that Cale had come to associate with trouble. Ron moved around the room in a soft hush, pouring tea.
“Father is sending me to the capital,” Cale finally said, voice flat and drained.
A moment passed.
“I’m tagging along,” Kim said casually, like announcing he was going for a walk.
Cale gave him a sidelong glare. “You don’t even know why I’m going.”
“Don’t care.” Kim shrugged, too at ease. “I’ve got business there too, might as well.”
Ron, traitorous old man that he was, placed another cup of tea beside Kim and said with the faintest smile, “Because that’s where the young master Kim home is.”
Kim froze, just a second.
Home.
Cale looked over, more curious than he’d admit.
Kim’s face didn’t shift much—he was too practiced for that—but something flickered there. Something childlike. The kind of quiet, dawning emotion you didn’t realize you were capable of until someone else spoke it aloud.
The corner of his mouth lifted, slow and small.
“I guess it is,” Kim murmured.
And just like that, the room stilled.
The teacup in Cale’s hand clinked against the table with a muted thud. Choi Han blinked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. Ron even paused mid-sip. On and Hong gasped audibly.
“You smiled!” Hong whispered, scandalized. “Like, for real nya!”
“Are you dying, nya?” On asked seriously.
“Don’t make it weird,” Kim muttered, hiding under the blanket.
Cale stared at him like he’d just grown another tail. He didn’t like surprises nor feelings. He didn’t like this.
But—
It wasn’t awful.
Which, of course, made it worse.
Choi Han chuckled softly. “Looks like we’re all going.”
“I didn’t invite anyone,” Cale grumbled, though his voice lacked heat. He knew how this would go.
Ron sipped his tea. “It would be improper for you to travel unguarded, young master. I’ll make arrangements.”
“We’re going too nhya!” On and Hong chorused.
Cale tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling like it might collapse and save him.
He hated this.
He hated the noise. The meddling and the blanket nests in the middle of his floor and the way everyone decided his life was a group project.
He hated how fast his personal space had been claimed, how his room smelled faintly like berry soap now because of those two little recently acquired bastard children he have now apparently, how Ron kept making lemonade even though he yell at that old man but still keep serving him with the excuse of old age but looks healthy and sharp and how Kim had a habit of crawling into a corner like a lounging cat and never left.
He hated how familiar it was becoming.
And how that made him feel... safe.
Disgusting.
Kim hummed under the blanket. “So it’s settled, we are going to the capital.”
“I’m not leading an army,” Cale snapped, with all the energy of a wet sponge.
“Sure dad,” Kim sighed dramatically, hand to his chest.
Cale sat up slowly, glaring at him like he was debating which window to toss him out of.
“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”
“Okay, father.”
“Dad nya,” Hong chirped brightly.
“Papa Cale nya,” On added sweetly.
Cale’s eyes twitched.
Ron coughed politely, failing to hide a laugh. “Shall I have their uniforms embroidered?”
Choi Han, traitor number three, looked out the window like he was posing for a painting. “He really is collecting children.”
“I’M EIGHTEEN,” Cale roared.
“You look like the kind of man who’d abandon three kids at a shop just to avoid explaining himself to the waiter,” Kim said thoughtfully.
“Kim.”
“Yes, dad?”
Cale let out a long, strangled groan and dragged a pillow over his face.
“...I should’ve stayed in the Forest of Darkness.”
“You never even went there,” Choi Han said.
“Exactly.”
And yet, when Cale peeked from beneath the pillow—just for a second—he saw them. The cat siblings tangled together like sleepy kittens. Choi Han, watching the horizon like an asshole pretending to be a good samaritan. Ron, polishing a teacup with unsettling purpose. And Kim—curled up against the couch, tail wrapped around himself, not looking at him but somehow still aware of him, like always.
They’d follow him.
They’d needle him, bother him, call him stuff and he—
He hated it.
He hated all of it.
He hated how the word “home” didn’t sound like a threat anymore.
And still—
He didn’t tell them no.
Not once.
Cale groaned again, louder, more dramatic this time. “This is a nightmare, give me a drink.”
From the floor, Kim leaned against the couch, eyes closed, voice quiet.
“...My home is waiting for me at the capital, Cale.”
Cale didn’t answer because Kim looked so much like his age when he spoke with ennui and longing.
And what is Cale but an infuriating man who knows how the heart is a fickle thing?
But a moment later, the pillow sailed through the air and smacked Kim in the face.
Kim blinked once. Let the pillow fall.
“Childish,” he muttered.
“Brat.”
“Trash.”
Cale buried his head in his hands and cursed his entire existence.
But he didn’t tell them to leave.
He never did.
zZz
The carriage rocked gently under the moonlight.
Outside, the world was a painting in stillness. Trees blurred into soft charcoal black shadows, the stars scattered like infinite and it was boundless. The wind moved carefully tonight—like it didn’t want to disturb anything. Like it, too, was holding its breath.
Inside, the carriage was dim and warm, and silence was evident. A faint moonlight kissed and pulsed behind the curtains, casting a gentle ligjt over the nest of blankets and fur at the center of the carriage.
Three cats lay curled together in a tangle of limbs, tails, and in a deep slumber.
On, small and silvery-grey, had one paw draped protectively over her brother. Hong, red and ever twitchy, had wriggled so close to her side he was practically vibrating with warmth. Their breathing synced in that easy way siblings sometimes did that it was deep, peaceful, unafraid.
And nestled in the middle, wrapped around them both like a shield, lay Kim in his cat form. With crimson furred, sleek, well-fed, and by all appearances—at ease. But his copper like eyes were open, glowing in the dark, a hint of exhaustion and in deep.
Kim was thinking.
Again.
His tail thumped against the cushion once, agitating Hong, who grumbled in his sleep and pressed in tighter. Kim let out a quiet breath, something between a sigh and a surrender—and curled closer around them.
Warm, safe and quiet.
It should’ve been enough.
It wasn’t.
He closed his eyes. Opened them again. The dark never changed.
His mind wandered restlessly, slipping from one half formed thought to another. They all ended in the same place.
Him.
Alberu.
That idiotic crown prince.
The name wasn’t even a word anymore. It was a sound etched into his ribs. A feeling that hummed in the silence. Something he could ignore in daylight when there were chores to do and Cale to bicker with and cat siblings to feed, suffering from the lemonade of an old man and a korean man which is Choi Han to talk to and feel a sense of kinship—but now, at night, it bloomed like bruises beneath the skin.
He hated it.
He hated that it still hurt.
That annoying, elegant, stubborn, ridiculous man. That crown prince who smiled like he was always one breath away from collapse and still made everyone believe he was unshakable. That fool who wrapped himself in duty like armor but held Kim like something fragile.
Kim imagined or pictured that Alberu cried.
When Kim disappeared—no, when Kim ran—he was quite certain that the fool cried.
And Kim hadn’t known what to do with that.
He didn’t know what to do with it now.
His claws flexed into the blanket, kneading the fabric on instinct as his chest ached.
He tried to distract himself—counted the cat’ breaths, imagined the shape and what’s for tomorrow's breakfast, mentally recited all twenty-three ways Cale chewed people out in the morning and Choi Han teaching everyone how to catch a rabbit—but it was useless.
He missed Alberu.
So much it left him hollow.
He hadn’t admitted it at first, and refused to name it. Denial had been his shield, silence is his strategy.
He was busy. He had things to do. Powers to get, and a body to adjust to. A child’s body, no less, with too-sharp ears and a tail that betrayed every emotion he tried to hide.Had to pretend he wasn’t scared when he was a stray and at most, he had to survive.
There had been no space for mourning.
And yet here he was—mourning anyway. In the gentle dark, when no one could hear the thoughts that refused to quiet.
He remembered the way Alberu used to speak to him even when Kim couldn’t respond back then. Like it was normal and like it was natural. Like Kim wasn’t just a stray with secrets and blood under his claws.
He remembered how Alberu’s hand lingered in his fur, it was careful and tender.
He remembered feeling real.
Seen.
He buried his face against On’s shoulder, letting the warmth of her trust ground him.
Would Alberu recognize him now?
Would he smile?
Would he be angry?
Kim didn’t know.
And that uncertainty scared him more than he wanted to admit.
He hadn’t deleted the old messages on KakaoTalk device. Sometimes he opened the device and stared at them—those short lines of text filled with love and worry and half-jokes Alberu probably thought he’d never read.
He read them anyway. Again and again. Like prayer.
Sometimes—God, he was pathetic—he replied to them through words as if the message might go through.
Sometimes he curled around that stupid device at night, holding it like it was a lifeline.
It always buzzed at night, or even in the morning.
But he still listened.
Now they were heading to the capital. Now he knew Alberu might be near.
Now the walls he’d built started to crack.
Would he be able to stay quiet when he saw him again?
Would he run?
Would he hug him?
If it was him—if it was Alberu…
Maybe it would be okay.
Just once.
Maybe it would be okay to hug him, if the one holding the pieces was someone who remembered what they used to look like.
Kim’s eyes curved, and he bit down hard on the emotion swelling in his throat.
He hated this. Hated his cat’s instinct and feelings. Hated how soft he’d become. Hated the hope in his chest more than the longing, because hope was worse. Hope made you reach. Hope made you fall.
But still.
He wanted to see him again.
He wanted to be scolded for tampering over his ridiculous stack of paperworks, to be called a brat with a fondness no one else could hear. He wanted to hear Alberu sigh like he was exhausted and then pet him anyway. He wanted to curl up in that stupid prince’s lap like it was his rightful place.
Was that really so much to ask?
Kim’s gaze drifted to the sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains.
Just a little longer.
Just a little further.
Just hold on.
And when he saw Alberu again—when their eyes met, no matter the body, no matter the form—he’d find a way to say it,
I’m still here, you idiot.
“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered. The words were thin and soft. Not quite a promise, not quite a prayer.
Then he closed his eyes.
Let sleep take him.
Wrapped in warmth.
And dreaming of a crown prince whose smile still lived somewhere in his bones.