Chapter 2

“Kitty, may I pet you?”

Despite doting on me so much, Ophelia had given her cat the ridiculous name “Kitty.” I had considered biting her to express my protest, but the fingers that stroked me were thinner and paler than I had expected, so I decided to show her some mercy. Besides, I rather liked the soothing scent that reminded me of a sunlit afternoon.

After another morning packed with lessons in ladylike etiquette, she spent her brief respite with me. I thought it was utterly ridiculous, yet here I was, quietly letting her pet me. It seemed I had taken a liking to Ophelia after all.

I had always considered concepts like gratitude and indebtedness meaningless, but now, I was somewhat grateful for the day she had rescued me. I had considered running away once or twice, but there were several reasons I hadn’t.

For one thing, I had no intention of abandoning my comfortable, lazy lifestyle to join the strays and scavenge for leftovers. That sort of life was beneath a noble and beautiful cat like me.

Ophelia was also remarkably easy to handle. If I acted grumpy, she would anxiously try to figure out how to appease me. If I deigned to show her some affection, she would smile with delight. Watching a human’s mood swing wildly over something as trivial as a cat was quite satisfying.

And there was one more reason. In fact, it was no exaggeration to say that the presence of a certain person was the biggest reason I hadn’t left this house.

Ophelia’s younger sister, Helena Desmond, was the sort of girl who wouldn’t even knock before entering a room, let alone open a door herself. Her only redeeming feature was her appearance; she was pretty on the outside, but that was about it. She was cunning, shameless, and utterly insufferable. She treated her older sister with constant contempt, behaving as though the woman weren’t even her sister.

When I had first arrived at this house, Helena had declared that she wanted me because I was cute and tried to snatch me away from Ophelia. Apparently, it was the first time Ophelia had ever resisted her. Helena had thrown an absolutely hideous tantrum, screaming and carrying on with a face twisted by rage.

Once she realized she couldn’t have me, she tried to kill me. She even attempted to have me driven out by using their parents. She resorted to every despicable trick she could think of to steal away Ophelia’s feline entertainment, but every single attempt ended in failure.

Saying that I hated women like Helena might have been a case of the pot calling the kettle black, but regardless, I couldn’t stand her. Leaving Ophelia would mean playing right into that woman’s hands, so I had remained in this house for years.

Whenever I sensed danger, I simply slipped away. I never let myself get caught, and I never touched food laced with poison. They had better not underestimate a former villainess. I arched my back and hissed at Helena as she stomped her feet in frustration.

Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to use that hateful face of hers as a scratching post. Unfortunately, that would give her an excuse to have me thrown out, so I kept the satisfying thought confined to my imagination.