The wheels of the old bicycle creaked softly as it rolled down the darkening village road. Lights had begun to flicker on one by one, and a chill wind from the forest crept through the fabric of Hana's clothes.
She pedaled carefully, glancing every now and then at the front basket where a fat orange cat was curled up.
Mathien.
His face was sulky. Ears slightly pinned back, tail wrapped tightly around his body like an emergency blanket.
"I know you're upset..." Hana said softly, as if speaking to a baby. "But seriously, if you'd stayed in human form, I'd have to push you all the way home. I can't even carry a full bucket of water by myself."
Mathien turned, eyes flat and full of judgment. "And you think I belong in a bicycle basket?"
"Would you rather run around on those long legs of yours and cause a scene in the village?" Hana grinned. "This is better. Just sit pretty like you are now."
Mathien snorted. "This is an aristocratic-level insult."
"It's not," Hana whispered. "You actually look... cute."
"Don't start."
They passed a few small houses before reaching the end of the lane, where an old wooden house stood. A warm yellow light glowed behind foggy glass windows. A faint smell of cooking wafted from inside.
Hana lifted her bike gently over a large rock by the gate and wheeled it slowly into the yard.
"Chirooo~ you're back!"
A familiar voice called from inside.
The door creaked open.
Grandma stood in the doorway, a thin blanket draped over her shoulders and the usual warm smile on her face. "Didn't forget your way home, huh?" she teased.
Hana chuckled and lifted the bike basket.
"No, Grandma. Just went for a short ride."
Mathien poked his head up from the basket. His eyes met Grandma's.
Silence.
Grandma squinted. "You're getting rounder, Chiro."
Mathien closed his eyes slowly.
"Someone… save me from this family."
Hana grinned wide and stepped inside, carrying Mathien like a beloved throw pillow.
"Come on in, Your Royal Fatness."
"Don't call me that." But his voice was small, nearly drowned by Hana's laughter.
Grandma slipped off her shawl and gently patted Hana's shoulder.
"Light the fire in the stove, okay? Grandma's gonna lie down. Bit of a headache."
"Huh? Are you sick?" Hana turned, instantly worried.
Grandma shook her head gently, though her face looked pale. "No, just a bit of wind chill. Don't panic. Use the hot water to brew some ginger tea later, okay?"
Hana nodded. "Got it, Grandma. I'll handle it."
Grandma headed to her room, while Hana walked to their small bamboo-walled kitchen. Her wooden sandals tapped softly on the floor. The clay stove sat quietly in the corner, with a neat pile of chopped wood beside it.
Hana began stacking wood, picking dry leaves and straw, then lighting a fire with an old match that sputtered twice before working.
Srrk. Srrk.
A soft sound behind her made her turn.
A round cat padded in slowly, tail lazily raised, his face still carrying remnants of a dignity shredded by the world.
"Chiro?" Hana greeted with a smile. "You following me?"
Mathien didn't answer. He just sat at the kitchen doorway, eyes focused on the fire with calculating intensity.
"You like fire too, huh?" Hana mumbled as she blew gently at the embers. "Or do you just not trust me to light one?"
Mathien stared sharply but didn't argue.
Hana chuckled, grabbed a metal pot, filled it with water from a clay jug, and placed it on the stove. Steam began to rise as the heat spread.
"So, how does it feel living in a humble little house, Your Highness?" Hana asked casually while stirring the water.
Mathien let out a long yawn, then flopped down on a worn mat near the stove. The warmth began to sink into his thick fur.
"Better than getting hit by a bike and being force-hugged every night by a human who smells like hot glue."
Hana snorted. "You never stop throwing shade, huh?"
But she still wore that warm, simple smile—the kind that made the tiny kitchen feel more alive than any royal dining hall.
She nudged a piece of wood further into the stove, then blew gently on the fading embers. But the fire didn't spark. Instead, smoke drifted up, stinging her eyes.
"Aw, it died?" she mumbled.
She tried again. Rearranged the dry wood, added more straw, and struck another match. Still nothing. Just a weak flame that sputtered and vanished like it had been swallowed by the morning chill. Three tries—nothing.
With a deep sigh, Hana slumped down, hands smudged with ash. "Ugh, and it was just getting warm…"
From the corner, Mathien glanced over.
His eyes narrowed, ears flicked. He stood up, walked slowly over, then sat gracefully beside the stove.
"Regretting not having a competent servant," he muttered.
Hana gawked. "Excuse me?! I'm trying my best!"
Mathien didn't reply. He stared at the stove, then raised one paw toward the dead embers—his tiny claw began to glow faintly blue.
"Stand back."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Mathien hissed, "Move. Or you'll lose your eyebrows."
Hana scooted back fast, eyes wide.
Mathien's paw glowed brighter. With a flick—almost regal—he slashed the air toward the pile of wood.
FWOOSH!
A sudden burst of flames erupted! Blue-purple fire engulfed the straw and wood in one explosive blast, almost licking the top of the stove's chimney. Bright light danced across the bamboo walls, Hana's shadow stretching long behind her.
Hana shrieked and dropped the ladle from her hand. "WHAAAT?! THAT'S TOO MUCH!!"
Mathien, still calm before the blaze, slowly turned his head.
"...Oops."
"ARE YOU BOILING WATER OR BURNING THE HOUSE?!"
"Miscalculation. It's been a while since I controlled fire manually," Mathien said calmly, licking his paw like nothing happened.
Meanwhile, Hana was full-on panicking, running to grab a pot lid and bamboo fan to tame the fire.
"HELP ME OUT HERE, YOUR HIGHNESS!!" she yelled.
Mathien hopped onto the jug and sat neatly. "My task was ignition. Management is the servant's job."
Hana could only grimace, sweating like crazy in a kitchen now lit up like a concert stage.
Sweat poured down her face.
One sentence looped in her mind: "The house is gonna burn down, the house is gonna burn down."
She poured water from the jug around the outside of the stove. Couldn't risk the inside—the fire was still flaring like it had been doused in rocket fuel.
Meanwhile, Mathien calmly groomed himself.
"At least now you're not cold," he said lazily.
Hana glared. "Your Highness, this is a kitchen, not a magic battleground!"
Mathien raised an eyebrow, then looked at the stove.
The fire had begun to settle naturally, leaving a steady, bright-burning bed of embers.
"See? Perfect flame. Even heat, high durability. If you knew the complexity of the regulation spell, you'd be bowing in gratitude."
Hana waved the bamboo fan to clear the smoke.
"I'll bow if you help clean all this up!"
Mathien jumped down from the jug. "I am a noble of the highest tier from Valtherion. Asking me to clean ashes is like asking a king to fix roof tiles."
"Yeah, and you're also a cat. A fat cat who almost burned down my house!"
Mathien huffed.
Then turned and walked elegantly toward the kitchen door.
Hana, panting, called after him. "Where are you going now?"
"The air's too thick. I'm going to meditate under the moonlight."
"After turning the kitchen into a fire hazard?!"
Mathien didn't answer.
He stepped outside, sitting at the doorway, facing the moon. The night light touched his fur, making him look like a glowing ball of golden fluff.
Hana watched from behind the smoke.
Exhausted, confused, and strangely amused—all at once.
"Oh god," she muttered. "Owning a wizard cat is more exhausting than math homework."
But then she chuckled softly. Still checking the fire, now back to normal, and the water that was finally heating up.
Outside, Mathien narrowed his eyes at the sky.
And quietly, the corner of his mouth curled upward.
"Not bad," he whispered. "For a servant, she's quite competent."
And the night went on—with a warmth that was just a little... explosive.
🌸🌸🌸