In the heart of a dense forest that sunlight had never touched, stood a small, fragile-looking hut—its roof sagged at an angle, its wooden walls covered in moss and creeping roots. But the hut was no ordinary dwelling. It wasn't built by human hands.
It was born from magic—black magic that drained the life from the surrounding forest, turning the earth to ash and the air thick with gloom.
Inside, the only light came from a single green lantern hanging in the center of the room, casting strange, shifting shadows across the walls.
A woman stood proudly before a round table. Her skin was pale as porcelain, her hair long and black with a bluish sheen. She wore a high-collared black velvet coat, and her fingers were adorned with rings set with enchanted stones. Her name: Lirien.
Across from her sat a tall man with silver-gray hair, half his face hidden by a metal mask that revealed only one eye—an eye the color of fresh blood. He wore light armor etched with strange patterns, and at his hip rested a short staff. His name: Vael.
"Prince Valtherion," Lirien murmured, sprinkling black crystal dust into a bowl of water.
The water rippled, then formed the image of a fat orange cat sleeping on a pillow.
"Do you see that?" Lirien whispered, her lips curling into a sly smile. "He's cursed, yes. But still alive."
Vael narrowed his eye.
"Prince Mathien… disguised as such a lowly creature?"
Lirien gave a slow nod. "Worse still… he's living in the home of an ordinary human girl. A poor one. Weak energy. But…"
She stared at the water's surface longer, her gaze sharpening.
"For some reason, my magic can't pierce too close to that girl. Something… something is blocking the reflection. Something interfering."
Vael clenched his jaw. "You said his power was weakening. So why is it increasing now?"
Lirien's lips curved into a thin smile. "That's what we need to find out—before he realizes it himself and becomes a threat again."
Vael rose, gripping his staff. "Then we shouldn't wait any longer."
But Lirien lifted a hand, halting him.
"Not yet. If you move now, they'll flee."
She glanced at a small map pinned to the wall—a map of the village and its outskirts.
"I'll send the shadows first. Let the prince play… until the time comes."
And when that time came, the world would remember: black magic never truly sleeps.
Mathien jolted awake. His round body stretched lazily on the pillow, but his eyes were wide—not with sleepiness, but sharp unease.
Something was in the air.
Not a sound. Not a smell. But… energy.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His fur bristled, his tail puffed up without his control. The air around him grew heavier—pressing on his chest, like a shadow slipping in without a sound.
"No way…"
He stood tall on the pillow, ears twitching as he tried to locate the source of the vibrations. But his body went rigid as a far more chilling realization hit him:
This wasn't new.
He knew this energy.
It was the same kind he'd felt… the night his kingdom burned. When the skies over Valtherion turned crimson as black magic erupted from within the palace. When his father, King Darius, ordered the gates of magic sealed—and Mathien could do nothing but watch from behind the protective barrier.
The same energy.
"No… no… why here?"
He turned toward the window. The night sky looked ordinary—stars scattered above, crickets chirping in the distance. But beyond that peaceful facade, Mathien knew. The world was shifting. Something was moving.
And those who had once hunted him… might have begun to sense his presence again.
Mathien leapt down from the pillow, padding quietly to where Hana lay fast asleep on her thin mattress. Her breathing was soft. Warm. Peaceful.
Peace that wouldn't last… if the threat drew nearer.
He sat beside her pillow, tail curled neatly around his paws.
"I can't stay still anymore."
"If they truly come… all of this, even you, could burn with it."
But he didn't move away.
He simply sat there, watching Hana's sleeping face—and for a moment, his fear felt heavier than any magic he had ever known.
🌸🌸🌸
The next morning, sunlight slipped through the gaps in the bamboo curtains, brushing softly across the wooden floor of Hana's small room. The morning air was still cold, clinging to the skin like dew reluctant to leave.
Hana blinked her eyes open slowly, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her lashes. She gave a small yawn, then rolled to her side.
And that's when she saw it.
A large orange cat, thick-furred and round-bodied, asleep with his head resting gently at the edge of her pillow—right beside her face. His breathing was steady, his eyes closed in peace, his tail curled perfectly against his belly.
Mathien.
Hana froze for a few seconds, her eyes widening, before glancing up at the ceiling.
"I just slept next to a prince," she whispered, almost like she didn't believe it herself.
Carefully, she tilted her head toward him, studying the cat's face up close. His nose twitched slightly, as though he were dreaming. Even as a plump, lazy feline, there was still something—an air of elegance—about him.
Hana lifted a hand, just about to touch the soft fur on his cheek—when suddenly—
"How dare you lay hands on His Highness without permission."
The voice was deep and heavy, even coming from the body of a cat.
Hana jerked her hand back. "Ah! Sorry! I thought you were still asleep!"
Mathien opened one eye, his gaze half-lazy, half-irritated.
"I was gathering strength. My sleep is not for commoners to watch."
Hana stifled a laugh. "But you look so cute when you sleep, like a big orange bolster."
Mathien sighed. "I told you not to compare me to snacks."
But he didn't move away. He stayed right there on the pillow—close enough to hear the girl's heartbeat, close enough to feel a sliver of calm in his storming thoughts.
And for that morning, he let himself remain there.
Hana slowly pulled the blanket closer and shifted just a bit nearer to the orange cat still lounging on the pillow. She studied his face with quiet curiosity.
"Mathien," she whispered, "your kingdom… Valtherion, right? What's it like?"
Mathien cracked one eye open to give her a mildly annoyed glance. But he didn't refuse. Didn't answer either. Just gave a low hum.
"I bet it's grand—full of light, with fountains that shoot water so high," Hana went on in a hushed voice. "You must've lived in a huge, spotless palace. Every morning the servants wake you up and feed you fruits I've never even seen before…"
Mathien gave a soft snort, though his expression wasn't as sharp as usual.
"And you must've had lots of pets? Or servants just to comb your hair?"
"Not everything you said is true," Mathien muttered lazily. "But most of it… I suppose so."
"Waaah…" Hana leaned on her arm, eyes sparkling.
Then she fell silent for a moment before squinting slightly and leaning in a bit closer.
"So, do you have a girlfriend?"
Mathien's eyes opened fully, his gaze suddenly sharp.
"What kind of question is that?"
"I'm just curious," Hana laughed. "I bet tons of girls liked you back at the palace, huh? Pretty ones, tall and elegant, with long shiny hair and skin so fair they look like fairies. Am I right?" she asked, imagining it all like something out of a comic.
Mathien turned his back to her, tail swaying in a slow but deliberate way.
"I don't concern myself with such things," he said flatly. "And none have ever caught my interest."
"Ohh…" Hana gave a small nod.
Then she looked at his back with an amused smile.
"So you've never been in love?"
Mathien stayed silent.
Neither confirming nor denying.
In the quiet that followed, Hana only smiled faintly. She pulled the blanket back up, holding the corner of her pillow as she watched him.
"I haven't either," she murmured softly, almost as if sharing a secret with the ceiling.
Mathien flicked his tail, letting out a lazy yawn. But before Hana could get up, she asked again—this time with genuine curiosity.
"How old are you, Mathien?"
The orange cat slowly turned his head, raising one brow at her.
"That's not a polite question to ask a noble."
"Oh, come on~" Hana shook her pillow slightly, like a child refusing to give up.
Mathien huffed, but at last, he answered, his voice calm yet proud.
"Twenty-one."
"WHAT?!"
Hana shot upright.
"You're twenty-one?! For real?!"
"Do I sound like I'm joking?"
"Waaah, so you're four years older than me. I'm only seventeen!"
Mathien gave a small smirk, then turned away with the air of a prince who had just won an argument.
"Obviously."
"What's obvious?"
"That I'm far more mature, wise, and experienced than you, who still smells like exam papers."
Hana gawked. "What exam paper smell?!"
Mathien's grin widened. "You're just a little girl who hasn't even finished school, while I am the heir to the throne of Valtherion."
"You arrogant young cat!" Hana threw a small pillow at him, but Mathien dodged with ease.
Standing at the edge of the bed, his fur fluffed out slightly, his smug purr filled the air.
"If not for this cursed form, you would kneel the moment you heard my full title."
Hana burst into laughter, covering her mouth.
"Okay, okay, His Highness Prince Mathien, twenty-one years old. I'll leave the spoiled kitty to rest this morning."
Mathien only gave a soft huff, then hopped down from the bed to his favorite pillow.
But before closing his eyes, he glanced back at Hana one more time.
The girl was still smiling.
And though their worlds and ages were far apart, somehow… the distance between them seemed to fade.
🌸🌸🌸