The days that followed were filled with an uneasy tension. Scaramouche had become even more cautious, his movements swift and calculated, always careful to remain in his cat form when Lumine was nearby. Every time she looked at him with those soft, trusting eyes, his heart would skip a beat, a feeling he couldnât shake no matter how many times he told himself not to care.
Lumine, on the other hand, was growing increasingly confused. She couldnât understand what was going on with Kuniâthere were times when he seemed almost human, especially when she caught him staring at her in the dead of night, his eyes gleaming with something she couldnât place.
But today, something felt different.
It was late in the afternoon when Lumine came home, her school bag slung over her shoulder. She entered the apartment with a sigh, kicking off her shoes and heading straight for the kitchen. Her day had been exhausting, filled with exams, homework, and barely any time to eat.
Kuniânow in his cat formâwas curled up on the couch, eyes half-lidded as he watched her. Lumine paused, her gaze lingering on him for a moment.
âYouâre always so quiet, arenât you, Kuni?â she mused aloud, her voice soft and affectionate. She reached down to scratch behind his ears, and the cat purred in response.
But as she ran her fingers through his soft fur, something strange happened. A flash of indigo hair, a fleeting glimpse of something familiar, washed over her mind. She blinked, shaking the thought away.
âGuess Iâm just imagining things,â she muttered, turning back to her bag.
---
Later that evening, as Lumine sat down to her studies again, Scaramouche remained on the couch, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort. He hadnât expected it to be like this, living with her. The constant proximity, the subtle gestures of care, the way she would speak to him as though he were human.
It was driving him insane.
His human form felt more like a distant dream these days. The longer he stayed in this ridiculous cat body, the more his pride crumbled. He didnât want to admit itâdidnât want to acknowledge the gnawing feeling inside his chest whenever she smiled at him, whenever she spoke to him so kindlyâbut he couldnât help it anymore.
It was an infuriating weakness.
---
That night, Lumine fell asleep at her desk, her head resting against the pages of her notebook. Scaramouche watched her from his spot on the couch, his midnight fur blending into the shadows.
He had the perfect opportunity.
His human form was just a thought away, a simple flick of his will, and he could be standing in front of her, free from this pathetic cat body. He could finally talk to her as he truly was, without hiding behind the pretense of being a harmless little animal.
But as he stared at her peaceful face, something in him stopped him.
He didnât want to ruin this, whatever this was.
Instead, he shifted quietly, padding over to the desk and hopping onto the chair beside her. With a gentle nudge of his head, he nudged her hand, trying to wake her. Lumine stirred slightly, groaning as she rubbed her eyes.
âHuh⦠Kuni?â she mumbled sleepily.
Scaramouche didnât answer, but he pushed closer, pressing his body against her arm.
Lumine blinked, her tired eyes meeting his midnight gaze. âYouâre really clingy tonight, huh?â she smiled softly. âI guess you donât want me to study anymoreâ¦â
Scaramoucheâs tail flicked irritably, but he didnât pull away. He didnât know why, but he didnât want to leave her just yet.
---
It wasnât until late at night that Lumine finally dragged herself to bed, exhausted from both her schoolwork and the emotional weight of the day. Scaramouche, in his cat form, followed her as usual, curling up at the foot of her bed.
But as he lay there, watching her sleep, he felt that same uncomfortable ache againâthe one he couldnât shake, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He had never been one for feelings, for attachments. He didnât have time for that sort of thing.
Yet here he was, lying in the dark, wondering why he couldnât let her go.
Suddenly, a soft voice broke the silence.
âKuni?â
He froze.
Lumineâs eyes were still closed, her voice soft and almost dreamlike. âI donât know what it is⦠but I feel like youâre more than just a cat. Thereâs something about youâ¦â
Scaramoucheâs breath caught in his throat, and his eyes flickered in the darkness.
He didnât know what she meant.
He didnât know what he meant.
But for the first time since heâd arrived, Scaramouche allowed himself to feel a flicker of something elseâsomething deeper than frustration or annoyance.
Perhaps⦠this wasnât just a game after all.
---
The next morning, Scaramouche woke up to find Lumine still fast asleep, her arm draped over the bed. He shifted back into his human form, standing in the dim light of the morning.
He was more conflicted than ever before.
The truth was, he couldnât keep pretending that this was just some passing infatuation.
But Lumineâshe was kind, too kind. She didnât know who he truly was.
And for some reason, he couldnât bear the thought of her finding out.
At least, not yet.