By the time Felix finally managed to return to his humanoid form, the sky outside had turned into a curtain of deep indigo streaked with glowing city lights. Though the victory of his return to a humanoid appearance took a bit of a nosedive when he noticed the “souvenirs” left behind through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room—most notably, the ears and tail. Despite his best efforts, the silky white cat ears stubbornly peeked out from his silvery mane, twitching every now and then with an annoyingly lifelike vigor. Meanwhile, the plume-like tail continued to swish restlessly behind him.

“This is just great,” Felix glared at his reflection in the glossy windows before muttering again through gritted teeth, “Okay, just focus again. No ears. No tail. Just be…normal. Come on!”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut in concentration for the nth time.

After several more moments of grunting, straining, and focusing as hard as he could (complete with several butchered yoga poses that would’ve looked ridiculous to anyone watching) he gave up. Dropping to the floor in a dramatic sprawl, he rested his cheek on the plush carpet, staring at his reflection in a daze.

“This is the worst,” he grumbled to no one in particular.

The ears flicked irritably at him, as if in a mocking response. Rolling his eyes, Felix turned over to face the other way, tail curling around him like an overly fluffy boa.

After a few minutes of staring defeated at nothing in particular, Felix noticed the corner of a messy stack of papers poking out from beneath the coffee table he was facing. As the only thing that was not meticulously organized in this apartment, his curiosity was instantly piqued. So he stretched a hand out to grab the stack, his tail swishing idly behind him. As he pulled the papers into view, he immediately noticed two cards clipped neatly at the top. 

The first was a sleek student ID labeled with the words Ivory Sanctuary in script and under it a green crest with motifs of lion-headed serpents, white roses and green pines. On the back was his photo and name along with the years 2006-2024, supposedly the amount of time he had been there. And the second was an official city ID for Mzia that was made of a strange material, transparent and hard like crystal, embossed with a shimmering gold insignia that gave Felix various helpful knowledge.

Name: Felix Bloodstone
Species: Felimorphus daemonica
Address: 700 Sphinx Tower Apt. 33B, Mzia Capital, Mzia
Regal One Power Rank: A-level

The events of the morning replayed in his mind, each strange detail weaving a tapestry that made up this bizarre new reality. The unfamiliar body. The surreal voice message and call. The peculiar apartment. The city outside.

“Okay, well if it isn’t any clearer this is no longer Earth,” he muttered, flipping through the documents. “Now let’s see what sort of mess this world’s ‘Felix Bloodstone’ has left me in.”

His attention was quickly drawn to the profiles beneath the IDs. Each one was accompanied by a professional headshot of a human, their names printed in bold letters at the top.

“Wait a second…” Felix’s eyes narrowed as he shuffled through the papers. “Are these…my pets?”

He skimmed the first page, his eyebrows climbing higher with every line.

Profile 1: Virgil St. Lilith

Age: 22
Gender: Male
Height: 181cm
Weight: 67kg
Blood Type: AB

“Highly intelligent but socially challenged. Excels in strategy and logical reasoning. Known for a sharp wit, but prone to laziness and the occasional ‘morbid tendencies.’”

The photo featured a smiling man with sharp, angular features framed by wavy chocolate brown hair and narrow eyes the color of whiskey. The smile did not reach his eyes.

“Morbid tendencies? What does that even mean?” Felix muttered, squinting at the paper. He leaned in closer, as if the photo might somehow reveal the answer. “Does he spend his free time brooding over existential crises or something?”

He flipped the page over, half-expecting to find additional notes about Virgil’s hobbies, maybe something ominous like “collecting cursed objects” or “writing haikus about death.” Instead, there was just more bureaucratic jargon.

Felix sighed and glanced back at the profile. The smile in the photo was unsettling in its precision, as if it had been constructed for the camera rather than offered naturally.

“That’s not a ‘happy to be here’ smile,” Felix said, holding up the paper to the light as if inspecting it for hidden subtext. “That’s a ‘you’re already losing at chess and don’t even know it’ smile.”

Despite the sardonic tone of his thoughts, Felix felt a flicker of genuine curiosity. Strategy and logical reasoning were undeniably useful traits, especially in a world as dangerous as this one. If nothing else, having someone who could think ten steps ahead might be a blessing in disguise.

On the other hand, laziness and morbid tendencies sounded like a recipe for sarcasm, dark humor, and absolutely no help when dishes needed to be done.

Felix rested the profile back on the coffee table, shaking his head. “Well, at least he looks like he could star in a noir film,” he mused. “Maybe I’ll call him ‘Detective Whiskey Eyes.’”

Before moving on to the next page, Felix couldn’t help but mutter to himself. “Note to self: don’t leave sharp objects lying around with this one. Who knows what he might do…or write.”

Profile 2: Sorath Ariel Goodwine

Age: 21
Gender: Male
Height: 185cm
Weight: 71kg
Blood Type: B

“Charismatic and quick-witted. Displays a natural talent for cooking, grooming, and creative endeavors. Prone to bending rules and evading formal structures.”

The photo depicted a smirking man with striking good looks, shoulder length black curls that was artfully disheveled, and pale blue eyes that stood out against an olive complexion. He exuded a roguish charm that practically leapt off the page.

“Charismatic and quick-witted,” Felix read aloud, leaning back into the couch. “Okay, so he’s the guy who talks his way out of trouble.” His gaze darted back to the photo, and he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Or into it, judging by that smirk.”

He scanned further down the page. “Displays a natural talent for cooking, grooming, and creative endeavors.”

“Well, that’s promising,” Felix muttered. “At least I won’t have to subsist on only milk and tuna.” He certainly didn’t know how to cook. Any self-respecting college boy lived on take-out and frozen food.

But as he continued reading, his optimism wavered. ‘Prone to bending rules and evading formal structures.’

“Ah, there it is.” Felix snorted. “Of course, the one guy who can cook is also the guy who’s going to be a complete nightmare to control. Why does he sound like the type who’d steal my credit card and max it out on a whim?”

He glanced at the photo again. Those pale blue eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement, as if the man was already laughing at him. “Peachy. I can feel the chaos radiating off him through the paper.”

Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair—and pausing briefly when his fingers brushed one of his stubborn cat ears. “Knowing my luck, he’ll probably charm his way out of every mess he causes. And I’ll be the one left cleaning it up.”

“Well,” Felix said with a resigned shrug, setting the profile back on the coffee table. “Here’s hoping his cooking skills are worth the headaches he’s clearly going to give me.”

He hesitated, then added under his breath, “And that he doesn’t burn the kitchen down before I figure out how to turn on the fire suppression system.”

Profile 3: Thel Malvolio Rosary

Age: 20
Gender: Male
Height: 191cm
Weight: 80kg
Blood Type: O

“Ambitious and disciplined. A top graduate from the Ivory Sanctuary of Mzia’s attached secondary school for humans. Has strong leadership skills and work ethic but may show symptoms of a superiority complex.”

The photo showed a classically handsome young man, with black coiffed curls neatly parted to the side, pale skin and carnelian eyes. His piercing gaze and upright posture gave off the air of someone who was quite judgmental and also took himself way too seriously.

Felix read the profile twice, then a third time, as if expecting the text to change into something less…daunting. His silvery-white ears twitched in disbelief, and his tail, which had been lazily draped over his lap, gave an irritable flick.

“Superiority complex?” he muttered, leaning closer to the paper. “Well, that’s just perfect. This guy’s not only ambitious and disciplined—he’s also probably going to judge my every move making sure I’m being the best ‘owner’ I can be.”

He could already picture the looming presence of this dominating CEO wannabe in the apartment: perfectly organized, perfectly punctual, and perfectly intimidating. Just looking at the photo, those carnelian eyes practically drilled into him, filled with an intensity that made Felix feel like he’d already failed some unspoken test. The man’s perfectly coiffed hair and upright posture screamed “high expectations.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix said, throwing up his hands. “A judgmental overachiever. I can already hear the condescending sighs every time I mess something up.” He shook his head, mimicking an exaggeratedly snide voice. “‘Honestly, and you call yourself a grown man—um, cat—how do you even function?’”

There was one last page, and Felix prayed for a simple character. Three difficult personalities were already too much for him to handle. Unfortunately, his prayers fell on deaf ears.

Profile 4: Albrecht Thierry Luce Fitzgerald

Age: 22
Gender: Male
Height: 189cm
Weight: 78kg
Blood Type: O

“Optimistic and determined. Dreams of finding the ‘perfect owner’ and believes in the power of wealth. Dislikes rejection and can be proud and boastful.”

“Oh,” Felix said, dragging the word out as he read the description aloud. He paused, staring at the paper. “Proud and boastful? You don’t say. That grin alone looks like it could power an entire city.”

The man in the image practically radiated confidence—or maybe it was overconfidence. His perfectly combed blonde hair shimmered like gold under the camera’s light, and his wide, toothy grin seemed less friendly and more…challenging. As if he knew some joke Felix wasn’t in on. The way his chin tilted upward, combined with the glint in his clear green eyes, screamed: Look at me, I’m the main character of life, and you’re just here to admire me.

Felix set the documents down and leaned back, rubbing his temples. “So, let me get this straight. This guy is basically a walking ego who’s out here hunting for his dream cat. Wonderful. Just wonderful. And what happens if I’m not his idea of perfect? Does he pack up his gold hair and sparkly smile and walk out?”

He glanced back at the photo and groaned. “And what’s with that smile? Who smiles like that? It’s not even a normal smile—it’s like he’s trying to sell me life insurance or something. Bet he practices it in the mirror every morning. ‘Hello, my name’s Albrecht ‘Pompous Names’ Fitzgerald, and I’m better than you in every conceivable way. Ask me how!’”

His tail slapped the couch as he leaped upward to pace in a frazzled manner. “He believes in the power of wealth? What does that even mean? Is he out here solving all his problems by throwing money at them? Because let me tell you, buddy, I have a lot of problems, and I don’t think your sparkling personality or a sack of cash is going to fix them.”

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

But gradually Felix slowed down, and as if trying to convince himself, he muttered, “Optimistic and determined, huh? Alright, I guess there are worse traits to have. At least he’s not going to be moping around all day. And maybe that arrogance is just confidence taken up a notch. Maybe he’s…encouraging or something.”

Felix moved over to the couch and shuffled the documents into a neat stack, placing them on the coffee table in clear sight so he doesn’t forget them tomorrow, uh, this morning. Then he reached up and clutched at his cat ears, letting out a long, pained groan. 

“Just why did the original me choose these guys?!”

AN: This is a product of a tentacle wielding plot bunny. Please let me know what you think! I enjoy hearing speculations, ideas, even wishes on what readers might want to see more of!

Before he could test out the feasibility of that theory, a faint buzzing sound drew his attention to the couch. Suddenly he noticed a sleek white phone that had blended into the fabric. If not for its sudden vibration he probably would’ve missed it completely. Felix hesitated before picking it up, the smooth metal cool against his fingers. A notification glowed on the screen:

‘New Voice Message: Pet Bureau, Main Branch, Mzia’, it read.

Felix frowned. “Pet Bureau?” His thumb hovered over the play button before curiosity got the better of him. At the same time, he supposed Mzia was the name of this city. He filed the thought for later.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

A clipped, bureaucratic voice filled the room: “Good evening, Mr. Felix Bloodstone. This is a reminder from the Pet Bureau. You have a scheduled 10 o’clock appointment tomorrow morning at our main branch in Mzia to finalize your paperwork and pick up the humans you’ve chosen. Please do not forget to bring a valid ID, which can be either work or school. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact your assigned catworker. We wish you a purrfect day!”

The phone slipped from his fingers and landed on the couch with a soft thud. Felix stared at it as though it had grown teeth.

“Pet Bureau… humans?” he repeated, the words tasting strange in his mouth. 

“Human pets?!” Ruby eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets and even the soft silvery strands of hair stood on end.

The absurdity of the situation struck him like a lightning bolt. Felix’s initial assumption—that he was just a regular human who’d transmigrated into another human body—finally started to crumble, the last metaphorical crack dealing a decisive blow. 

His breath quickened, and a strange sensation crept over him—a tingling, pulling feeling deep in his bones. His body felt… off. Before he could make sense of it, the world seemed to tilt. His legs gave way, his hands braced against the floor—except they weren’t hands anymore.

Felix gasped, looking down in horror. His arms had shortened, his fingers melted into soft pads tipped with tiny claws. His skin was no longer pale but covered in the softest, fluffiest white fur he had ever seen. A long, plume-like tail swished behind him, entirely beyond his control.

“No, no, no!” Felix’s voice came out in a startled yowl, high-pitched and panicked.

He scrambled to his feet—or rather, his paws—his new feline body lurching awkwardly. His enhanced senses suddenly surged to overwhelming levels. He could hear the faint ticking of a clock in another room, smell the faint delicious aroma of minty candles mingled with the metallic tang of his phone. His reflection in the glass of the coffee table confirmed his fears: he was now a disheveled yet undeniably regal-looking albino cat, his ruby-red eyes wide with shock.

The voice message hadn’t been some weird prank or a misunderstanding. He wasn’t just living in a world where cats owned humans as pets—he was one of those cats.

Felix flopped onto the floor in disbelief, tail twitching involuntarily. “This can’t be real. This has to be some kind of hallucination. That brick-purse must have left me in a coma…”

Even though he said this, he could still hear something shatter with a pitiful whine. That was the sound of his shaky worldview finally crumbling completely under the strain of the revelations.

He wasn’t even given the courtesy of pretending the message to be some sort of really elaborate, incredibly weird prank!

His stewing in resentment was interrupted by the buzz of the phone again. It vibrated furiously on the couch, its screen lighting up with an incoming call.

“Oh, great, what is it this time,” Felix muttered. His voice came out as a plaintive meow. And then realizing his situation, “But how am I supposed to answer that?!”

He scrambled to his paws, jumping onto the couch with an ungraceful thud. His new feline instincts, though unbidden, guided him with a surprising burst of dexterity as he pawed at the screen, swiping to answer the call.

“Hello?” Felix croaked, his voice an odd mix of a feline purr and his human speech.

“Ah, good evening, Mr. Bloodstone!” came a chipper, overly rehearsed voice that was strangely not much different from the crisp bureaucratic tones of the Pet Bureau’s. “This is Lysander with the Combat Division! I’m calling to formally congratulate you on your acceptance into the trainee program. We’re thrilled to have a Regal One of your pedigree joining our ranks!”

“Uh… thanks?” Felix replied weakly, still trying to process the absurdity of having just spoken into a phone as a cat.

Lysander didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “As a reminder, your first day of training begins in one week. Please report to Headquarters at 8:00 a.m. sharp. We understand it’s always a bit chaotic for fresh graduates stepping outside the Ivory Sanctuary and into society for the first time. However, we have all the faith that you will handle everything wonderfully! So remember, your first day is next week, and don’t forget to bring any new pet registration paperwork!”

Felix stared at the phone, his ears twitching involuntarily. “Yeah, uh, sure. Paperwork. Got it.”

“Excellent! Have a great evening, Mr. Bloodstone. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions. And remember, the Combat Division is here to protect and serve!”

The call ended with a cheerful click, leaving Felix staring at the phone, his fur bristling.

“Combat Division? What combat? Why would I—oh. Oh, no. They expect me to fight?”

His mind reeled with new possibilities. What kind of world had he landed in? Did he really have to fight? Against what? He glanced at his reflection in the glass again.

“You’re joking,” he muttered, addressing his own fluffy visage. “I’m supposed to be some kind of warrior? Looking like this? I look like a cloud had an allergic reaction!”

He slumped back onto the couch, a small puff of fur floating into the air as he exhaled sharply. His mind raced, trying to piece together this insane new reality. Not only was he a cat in a world where cats seemed to be running things, but he was also apparently a member of some elite Combat Division—and he had human pets waiting for him to pick them up.

“This is… this is insane,” Felix muttered, staring up at the ceiling. “I didn’t even want a goldfish, let alone a person. No, wait. It’s people. As in more than one?!”

Round ruby eyes became even more round as he jumped to his feet (paws), his tail flicking erratically behind him. That furry face somehow managed to express an imminent meltdown. 

He started pacing again and tried to think of a plan, anything that might help him regain some semblance of control. But every time he tried to focus, his new feline instincts distracted him. The way the rug crinkled under his paws felt oddly satisfying, and he couldn’t resist straying to the squat cabinet full of colorful toys and shiny trinkets.

For a moment, any thoughts of plans flew out the window as large ruby eyes stared unblinkingly. By the time Felix realized it, he had smooshed his cat face against the glass doors of the cabinet.

“Stop that,” he told himself, shaking his head. “Focus, Felix. You’re a human—no, wait, you’re a cat now. A Regal One, apparently. Whatever that means.”

He took a deep breath—or tried to. The strange new mechanics of his body made it feel more like a huff. The minty scent hit his nose again and he sneezed, nearly toppling over. Still, the delicious scent did manage to calm his nerves slightly.

“Okay,” he said aloud, his voice less purr and more human now. “I can do this. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out this whole ‘human pet’ thing. And the Combat Division. And whatever madness this insane world throws at me.”

For a moment, he simply sat there, tail swishing idly as he stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a strange mix of familiarity and alienness. The skyline looked vaguely like his old home, but the shapes of the buildings were sleeker, more organic, as if they had grown rather than been built.

“…”

“…”

“Now if only someone could tell me how to turn back into a human that would be great, thanks?!”

A frustrated yowl broke the short-lived peaceful silence that had settled in the room just now.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

He had no idea how to navigate this bizarre new life, let alone how to manage human pets! But right now, gaining control of his forms seemed to be the greatest priority. Even if this world was run by cats, he couldn’t very well stay a furball forever, could he?! 

For one thing, he couldn’t imagine bureaucracies being able to work without employees possessing opposable thumbs. 

As for tomorrow’s disaster, he’ll leave it for tomorrow. Burn that bridge when you come to it and all that. 

AN: This is a product of a tentacle wielding plot bunny. Please let me know what you think! I enjoy hearing speculations, ideas, even wishes on what readers might want to see more of!

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?

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

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.

You c an fi nd t he la te st cha pte rs at ( th e bl mu se . c o m )

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.