It was evening—no, afternoon.
I came home from school.
I found the door was locked.
Again?
I stared at it for a moment. Plain wood. Ordinary handle. Completely, totally locked.
They locked me out.
Again.
Why?
I knocked.
Nothing happened.
Knocked again. Harder.
Wait. The door has a doorbell.
I pressed the bell.
Heard it chime inside. A cheerful little sound that felt completely wrong given the situation.
Still nothing.
I waited. Counted to twenty.
Pressed the bell again, longer this time, loud enough to wake the neighbors if they were sleeping in the middle of the afternoon.
From inside—scrambling.
Fast footsteps.
Something falling.
A muffled "Ouch!" that was definitely Angy.
Then another voice—Shenhe's—saying something too quiet to hear.
Then silence.
Complete, absolute silence. Like the concept of sound had ceased to exist. Like the house had decided to play dead.
I counted to thirty this time.
The door finally opened.
Shenhe stood there. Perfect posture. The same expressionless face. Not a single hair out of place. Like she'd been standing there for hours, waiting patiently for this exact moment.
"Young Master. Welcome home."
I looked past her. The hallway was clean. Normal. Nothing unusual.
Too normal.
Way too normal.
"Why was the door locked?"
"No reason."
No reason.
The same no reason as last time.
The no reason that means there's definitely a reason.
I stepped inside. Walked slowly toward the living room. Shenhe didn't try to stop me. Didn't say anything. Just followed at a distance, silent as always.
She's too calm.
That's suspicious.
She's always suspicious, but this is extra suspicious.
I reached the doorway.
I stopped.
Angy was on the couch. Sitting perfectly still. A book open in her lap. Reading.
Angy doesn't read.
We established this many times.
Angy runs around. Angy teases. Angy sleeps in other people's beds. Angy makes inappropriate comments at inappropriate times.
Angy does not sit quietly and read.
"Angy."
She looked up. Innocent. Too innocent. Eyes wide, trying to look surprised to see me.
"Yes, Young Master?"
"What's that?"
I pointed.
At the small black shape curled beside her on the couch.
At the tail twitching slowly back and forth.
At the yellow eyes now fixed on me with an expression that definitely said "And who are you?"
"Oh."
She glanced down.
"That's... Mochi."
"Mochi."
"Yes. Mochi."
"Mochi."
"Mochi. The cat."
The cat.
There's a cat.
On my couch.
In my house.
In a different dimension.
"You adopted a cat."
"No." She paused, clearly searching for the right words. Her lips moved slightly, testing phrases silently. "Mochi adopted us."
Mochi adopted us.
Of course.
That's definitely what happened.
Obviously a pet adopted one idiot and one statue... ah, no, statue has some emotions. But she—
I looked at Shenhe. Still expressionless. But her eyes—her eyes were definitely laughing. The traitor.
I looked at Angy. Cat on the couch. Book in her lap. Trying so hard to look innocent, like this was completely normal, like cats appeared in houses every day and were named Mochi and just... stayed.
I looked at the cat.
It yawned. Stretched. Closed its eyes like it owned the place.
Even the cat thinks this is ridiculous.
"Angy."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"Where did the cat come from?"
"Um." She glanced away. At the window. At the ceiling. At anywhere but me. "The street?"
"It has a collar."
"It's a... stylish street cat?"
A stylish street cat.
With a collar.
That says "Mochi" on it.
In fancy letters.
With a little bell.
I sighed. The deep kind. The kind that comes from somewhere in your chest and just... lives there now. The kind that says I've given up on understanding my life.
"Angy."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"How much did you pay for this 'stylish street cat'?"
She hesitated. Long enough that I knew the answer was going to hurt.
"...Enough?"
"Enough for what?"
"Enough that we shouldn't tell Shenhe the actual number."
Shenhe's eyebrow twitched. The most expression she'd shown all day. A flicker of something—curiosity? Concern? Amusement?
I looked at the cat again. Black fur. Yellow eyes. Completely unbothered by any of this. It had already claimed the couch, claimed Angy, claimed this house as its territory.
This is my life now.
Living with two maids, a cat named Mochi, and locked doors for "no reason."
In a different dimension.
Where no one knows what a Duman is.
Where people eat lunch on roofs and set chemistry labs on fire.
Where a girl who can erase existence walks beside me on the road.
And where a cat named Mochi has adopted us.
"Fine."
The word came out tired. Resigned.
"Keep it."
Angy's face lit up like someone had turned on a sun behind her eyes. "Really?!"
"But—" I held up a finger. "—unlock the door when I come home. No more locked doors. Ever."
"Yes, Young Master!"
She was already beaming. Already victorious.
The cat meowed. Loud. Demanding.
Even the cat knows it won.
I turned and walked upstairs.
Behind me, I heard Angy whisper to Shenhe, "He said yes! Mochi, we did it!"
And Shenhe's quiet response:
"You named the cat before you even knew if he'd let you keep it?"
"Of course. Confidence."
Confidence.
Or insanity.
Hard to tell anymore.
I reached my room. Closed the door. Lay on my bed.
I stared at the ceiling.
The fan spun above me. Same as always. Same rhythm. Same creak.
I live with chaos.
Beautiful, ridiculous chaos.
And a cat named Mochi.
I thought about it. Really thought.
In Aventic, I had a room. Four walls. A bed. Nothing else.
No one waiting for me.
No one locking doors for mysterious reasons.
No one adopting cats and naming them Mochi.
No one—
No one.
Just me.
And missions.
And death.
And the thing wearing Marcus's face.
Here—
Here, I have locked doors and secret cats and maids who can teleport and spar like demons.
Here, I have chaos.
Beautiful, ridiculous, alive chaos.
And honestly?
I stared at the fan.
I don't hate it.
A pause.
But I don't love it either!.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
But I don't hate it.
That's something.
That's more than I had before.
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