Shirleyviel Connalt nearly drowned herself in the subtle sound of licking.
The sound was steady and gentle, strangely soothing a sharp buzzing in her mind. The raging hum in her ears was gradually replaced by the Black Cat’s licking.
Shirleyviel’s gaze was locked firmly on the Black Cat.
She watched as it used its tiny, barbed pink tongue to meticulously groom the fur on its front paw.
Then its flank, and finally, it even clumsily tried to twist its head around to clean its back.
Its movements were unhurried and absorbed, as if grooming its fur was the only thing in the universe that mattered at this moment.
The cat’s concentration seemed to infect Shirleyviel as well, and she too watched intently.
***
Ian knew he had succeeded in capturing Shirleyviel’s attention.
After gaining her attention, the system’s countdown in his mind also paused at 1 minute and 6 seconds.
If he could attract Shirleyviel’s attention, it meant she could still be saved.
Ian knew he couldn’t rush. Any abrupt movement or intention could startle Shirleyviel, leading to the ‘correction’ failing.
The Black Cat—Ian—finished a full set of “cleaning,” then gracefully stretched out in a long, lazy arch. Its spine curved in a soft line, and its black fur shimmered like flowing water under the dim light.
Then, he shifted to an even more comfortable position, lying on his side, exposing a small patch of soft, fluffy belly.
Its furry front paws crossed over each other, chin resting gently atop, and those platinum-glimmering cat eyes were half-lidded.
He didn’t look at her, as if he had simply chosen a spot to rest by chance.
But that slightly exposed, defenseless soft belly—for a feline, it was actually a signal of relaxation and trust.
Of course, Ian did this on purpose.
***
Shirleyviel’s gaze fell involuntarily upon that patch of fur, which seemed unusually soft and warm.
Some long-buried corner of her memory was gently stirred.
Long, long ago… back when she could still sense the world normally, she seemed to have seen cats basking in the sun from afar in the garden. She had once vaguely wondered what their fur might feel like to touch…
But that thought was soon swallowed up by endless noise and pain that followed.
Now, in this absolutely silent space, that ancient and fuzzy thought became clear again.
She wanted to touch.
This simple desire represented a shift in Shirleyviel’s state of mind—from ‘avoidance’ to ‘contact.’
The Black Cat seemed to have fallen asleep, its breathing even, body rising and falling with each breath.
That utterly unguarded posture was like a silent, gentle encouragement.
Shirleyviel’s curled-up body, ever so slowly—almost by the millimeter—loosened a little.
She looked at her hand resting on her knees; her fingers were slender and pale, curled slightly from long-term tension.
She tried, with the faintest movement, to move her index finger.
There was no expected magical disorder or stinging pain.
Only a slight ache in the joints.
She moved her other fingers ever so gently, her gaze flickering between the Black Cat’s soft fur and her own trembling fingertips.
Could she?
Would it suddenly jump away? Would it dislike her? Would it… like everything else, bring new pain?
Fear wrapped around her like icy vines. Her fingers stopped in midair, trembling.
At that moment, the Black Cat, lying on its side, seemed to stir in a half-dream, half-awake state. Its tail tip flicked ever so lightly.
The fluffy tail tip traced a lazy arc through the air and softly landed on the ground, less than a foot from her outstretched fingers.
That tiny movement was like the final key, gently unlocking the heavy door in her heart.
***
Courage welled up, difficult but resolute.
Shirleyviel held her breath. She closed her eyes, as if this could shield her from all the possible bad outcomes.
Then, using all the strength she had gathered over so long, she reached out that trembling hand.
She touched it.
It was not cold, not painful.
It was… an incredibly soft, warm, fluffy sensation.
Her fingertips, ever so slightly, brushed against the fluffiest hairs at the end of the Black Cat’s tail.
The shock, flight, or magical backlash she’d expected never happened.
The Black Cat’s ears only twitched almost imperceptibly; its tail still lay obediently in place, and even its breathing didn’t change rhythm.
The Black Cat allowed her touch.
An indescribable shudder swept through Shirleyviel from that single point of contact at her fingertip.
It was not a shudder of fear, but one mixed with enormous surprise, bitterness, and comfort.
It did not reject me.
That realization shook her closed-off world more powerfully than any magic, any medicine, or any word.
Carefully, tentatively, she pressed her whole palm over it, feeling the soft, plush fur sink ever so slightly under her hand, and beneath it, the warm, steady pulse of life.
Once, twice…
She began to gently comb the tuft of fur with her fingertips, her movements clumsy yet focused.
And the Black Cat, lying quietly all the while, even let out a nearly inaudible, satisfied little purr from deep in its throat under her gentle touch.
This faint sound reached Shirleyviel’s ears—not as noise, but as a ray of warm sunlight shining into the icy darkness of her heart.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Those red pupils, once hollow and numb, now shone just a little brighter.
She looked at her hand stroking the Black Cat, then lifted her gaze to those half-lidded, serenely platinum eyes.
For the first time after so much torment, the corners of her mouth tugged upward ever so faintly, almost imperceptibly.
It wasn’t a smile—not even enough to be called a change of expression.
Feeling the increasingly “bold” little hand upon him, Ian knew it was time to take this ‘Missy’ out.
Ian didn’t get up right away. He lazily stretched out his previously crossed front paws, spreading the pink pads and doing a thorough “cat stretch,” his spine arching fluidly, even the tail tip trembling from the effort.
Then, he rose slowly, all four paws planted firmly on the dim ground.
He didn’t look at Shirleyviel, instead acting as if his attention had been drawn by some nonexistent “thing” in the distance. He turned his head, ears pricked in that direction, and let out a very soft, very short:
“Meow~”
The call was gentle and brief, but enough to make Shirleyviel’s hand pause.
Her gaze shifted from under her hand, following the Black Cat’s eyes toward that patch of empty dimness.
A flash of confusion passed through her eyes, as if she didn’t understand what the Black Cat was looking at.
Ian took this chance, moving with the feline’s unique elegance, and walked toward the exit of the Tranquil Realm.