The rain pounded against the windows, a steady rhythm that matched the dull ache in Scaramouche’s head. He exhaled sharply, shaking off the lingering hesitation as he set the small, drenched cat onto his couch. The creature was trembling, its soaked fur clinging to its frail body. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Pathetic."

And yet… he didn’t toss it back outside. With a scoff, he turned on his heel, disappearing into another room to fetch a towel. Helping others wasn’t exactly in his nature. Not anymore. Life had long since taught him that attachments were nothing but a slow, painful betrayal waiting to happen. He had built his walls high—cold, unyielding, impenetrable. No one got close. No one ever would.

But maybe… just this once.

Returning, he tossed the towel over his shoulder, fully expecting to see the same fragile little thing curled up on his couch. Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks.

The cat was gone.

In its place sat… a person. A girl. No—something in between. Feline ears twitched atop her head, a tail flicked behind her, and sharp eyes met his own indigo stare. His breath caught for half a second before his usual scowl snapped back into place, but there was no denying the flicker of shock in his expression. His grip tightened around the towel, knuckles whitening.

"What the—?!"

He took a step back, his mind racing. A trick? A hallucination? No. This world had its fair share of oddities, but he'd never encountered one up close. His jaw clenched, irritation masking the unease creeping into his chest. He hated surprises. Hated things slipping out of his control. His entire life had been dictated by betrayal and loss, and this—whatever this was—reeked of unpredictability.