What to do?

Utoya still went to secretly take a bath before tightly hugging the girl in her arms.

She had a feeling that, for Irene right now, no matter what she asked her to do, Irene would comply without hesitation… just to feel a trace of family-like warmth.

But Utoya said nothing.

She only held her quietly, waiting for her breathing to steady, until soft purring rose from her chest.

This little cat… was much better than she had imagined.

Utoya gently pinched the soft flesh of Irene’s cheek with her fingers.

It felt good, but she didn’t dare touch her cat ears, afraid of waking her.

A scavenger, with nothing in this chaotic world… yet she somehow had a heart of gold.

Utoya could tell at a glance that she was the one who saved that inexperienced nun, and that she gave her all for her younger sister.

She even felt ashamed toward Utoya—the one who had chained her.

But… was she herself really worthy of that?

Utoya silently examined her own heart.

Maybe… but she wasn’t sure.

Love at first sight—Utoya had never doubted such a thing.

She had never felt for anyone else what she felt the moment she saw Irene… that trembling from the depths of her heart.

But Utoya also knew—Irene was never a house cat.

On her, Utoya felt something she herself had never had—

Vitality.

If Irene really wanted to live comfortably, with her looks she could easily have become a socialite, the lover of some wealthy man.

But she chose the hardest path, the one that carried the hope of standing on her own.

While others her age, with the same experiences and bodies, had already started trying to seduce others—using their bodies, their souls, their dignity just for a chance to survive—

Irene chose to claw things back from this damned world with her own will and determination.

And that… terrified Utoya.

That kind of spirit drew her in, but also scared her.

Could she really keep this free soul forever in her arms?

She was just a hunter… she knew nothing but killing.

Could she—truly—be worthy of such a soul?

No.

Absolutely worthy.

Every time her thoughts reached this point, malice welled up in Utoya’s heart…

She had to keep her.

Even if it meant ruining her beauty.

Even if it meant breaking her limbs.

Even if it meant threatening everything she cared about… it didn’t matter.

That was why Utoya believed she was not a good person.

“How did you… fall into my trap, little cat? You clearly deserve someone better…”

Utoya rasped softly, rubbing those cat ears, before closing her eyes.

…

When the faint morning light outside the window woke her, Utoya’s mind was still hazy.

She instinctively tightened her arms, wanting to draw the warm, soft little cat closer—

But her embrace was empty.

A cold panic instantly shattered her drowsiness.

Her heart sank like a stone, golden pupils snapping open.

Almost by reflex, she reached for her wrist—the place where the chain should be.

Empty.

“Irene!”

A panicked growl burst out.

She shot upright from the shabby bed, scanning every corner of the cabin in frantic haste.

But the cold, empty room she imagined wasn’t what she found.

Instead, a warm, unfamiliar, and irresistibly enticing fragrance filled the air.

Food?

Not her burnt porridge.

Not her charred bread.

It was… the rich aroma of something fried in oil, the sweetness of baked flour, the freshness of vegetables.

Utoya froze, her eyes locking onto the rough wooden table in the center of the cabin.

The table, once piled with clutter and dust, was now neatly covered with a clean cloth.

On top of it sat golden pancakes, edges crisped just right, centers fluffy and steaming hot.

Beside them, a small pot of bubbling soup—mushrooms, diced potatoes, and carrots swirling in creamy broth, perhaps with a touch of milk.

Two clean cups filled with clear water, and a small glass of vodka.

A small plate of sliced red sausage, glistening with oil, neatly arranged.

The shabby cabin was instantly transformed by this carefully prepared breakfast.

Sunlight streamed through the dusty window, catching the floating motes in its beams.

But more striking was the rising steam from the food, filling the space with a warmth of life it had never known.

And the little cat who made all this—

At that moment she was turned away from Utoya, busy at the small stove, now scrubbed clean.

She wore an oversized shirt of Utoya’s as an apron, her slender figure thin in the morning light, but focused with total seriousness.

Irene carefully lifted a fresh pancake from the sizzling pan, oil popping cheerfully.

Her restless white cat ears twitched with each precise motion.

Her tail hung relaxed behind her, only the tip curling unconsciously.

These ears… so annoying.

She flicked her tail in irritation.

Four ears meant double hearing, but oil splatters kept hitting them—and it hurt.

When Utoya’s panicked growl rang out, Irene flinched.

Her ears shot upright in alarm as she spun around, flour dusting her face.

Her purple cat eyes glimmered with lingering nervousness.

Seeing Utoya sitting there in shock instead of storming out in rage, Irene’s tense shoulders loosened slightly.

She bit her lip, trying to look calm, but her eyes betrayed her unease.

Was it about the chain?

That thing was far too easy for her to undo, and after a night of wearing it—if marks were left on her skin, she was doomed…

“Um… would you… like to eat first?”

Irene spoke cautiously.

Utoya opened her mouth, but her throat was blocked.

Not a single word came out.

In the end, she only nodded slowly, awkwardly, her gaze locked firmly on Irene.

In her golden eyes, all coldness melted away, leaving only a tender, almost reverent glow.

What kind of look was that…?

Even if she had blacked out last night, she didn’t hurt anywhere.

Utoya hadn’t done anything to her, had she?

Suspicious, Irene glanced down at herself.

Last night she had let Utoya touch her, but after the first wave of emotion passed… she realized she wasn’t even repulsed.

“I didn’t do anything to you… don’t be afraid.

If you don’t want to, I won’t do anything.”

Seeing Irene like this, Utoya understood her worries.

She took a sip of water, forcing her hoarse voice to sound gentler, trying to make those strange words seem normal.

Irene was a woman.

She herself was too.

Even though… even though she liked doing such things, Irene might not.

Utoya could understand that.

“If doing that would make Utoya happy, then we can. I don’t mind.”

Irene smiled.

If that alone could buy her a home, she wouldn’t fight so hard to live on.

But having once been a man, she knew too well—relationships built only on flesh never lasted.

She would grow old.

She would no longer be beautiful.

No one truly loved those who sold their bodies.

But… she so badly wanted that feeling.

To be cared for.

To be cherished.

To be protected…

So, if it was Utoya—

“…Let’s eat first.”

But for some reason, seeing Irene so willing, so proactive—

Utoya felt nothing but a strange, restless irritation.

A feeling she couldn’t put into words clogged her chest.

And all her thoughts turned into silence.