After dinner, Selina, as usual, didn’t head home. She suggested a slow loop nearby, calling it a habit, a way to breathe under the night.

Moonlight combed the city, every pore and seam bright as frost.

They walked south along the street. Yellow leaves lay in ridges across the pavement, and the cold wind herded them—one heap east, one tuft west.

As night pressed in, the Empire’s shops shut their eyelids, metal shutters sighing. Only the restaurants kept sizzling, smoke and chatter rising like a hearth fire. At one doorway, a knot of strays sat begging, huddling shoulder to shoulder to weather the winter that was already sniffing at their fur.

The dogs weren’t afraid of people. In their world, a rumor ran like a tail through grass:

Whimper soft, bow your head, wag low, and kindness will come like a hand from a sleeve.

But they lost interest as Selina neared. Their noses, sharp as needles, read her like paper—no food on her, flattery meaningless. Their wet tails sank, looking like an otter out of a Balzac novel, slick and wary.

“The dog… the dog’s licking my hand!”

“Probably some soup on you from dinner,” Hedi called from a small distance, still as a lamppost while watching Selina stroke the stray’s back. “Even washed, the smell sticks. Careful it doesn’t nip.”

“I want to give them something.”

A small sigh rose in Hedi, thin as winter steam. She opened her wallet, a twenty like a pale leaf between her fingers. Before she could pass it, Selina had already paid the clerk with her own money and bought a few servings. Hedi slid the bill back, face smooth as glass, acting like nothing had shifted.

“Professor, aren’t you coming to feed them?”

“I’ll pass.”

“You don’t like dogs?”

Hedi shook her head. No story of being chased. No real dislike of things that shed. If she had to choose a word—cat person.

Cats and dogs are worlds apart.

Her habits were catlike: lazy spirals, whim first, rule last.

Selina was a little pup: bright eyes, spring in her step, warm as sunlight.

Thinking like that brought a pang, then a laugh. There’s a built-in difference between us. Not a gulf, not a doom. And if I start building examples for everything—yeah, screw that; my head will pack itself until it cracks.

“You feed them full tonight, they’ll stick to us,” Hedi warned, voice cool as shade. “Animals have animal ways to survive.”

“Just a little more!”

Hedi walked up and pinched Selina’s arm, gentle but firm. The stray pressed in, its tail swaying like a roly‑poly toy that wouldn’t tip.

Inside, the clerk watched them from the doorway. A business smile polished on his face, but his eyes were pebbles of impatience.

“Okay, time to go.”

“Wait!” Selina dumped all the food in a rush at the dogs’ feet, then kept glancing back. “They’re eating so happily. I wonder if we’ll ever run into them again.”

Hedi didn’t answer. Her silence felt like cold glass.

Strays carry bacteria, and letting them sit at the door is already kindness. Feed them with fuss and noise, and you’ll trouble the diners. Might even bar us from coming again.

But strays have a stray’s map. They’ll appear where they can. Sometimes stiff as wood, frozen under the white roar of a snowstorm.

Back home, Selina still held the dogs in her mind like little embers. She sounded regretful that Hedi hadn’t fed them.

“You should’ve given them a bite too. They were so cute.”

“Survival instinct,” Hedi said, tugging off her soft wool cap and shrugging out of her tasseled cape like leaves falling. “They act cute because people are the easiest winter.”

“You really think that?”

“How else do they make it through the cold?”

“In a city, strays only get through winter with kind hands,” Selina said, her voice blunt as bread. “Maybe you’re afraid that even if you feed them tonight, they might die anyway. Better to refuse from the start than taste that end.”

“I didn’t even know I thought like that.”

Selina chuckled, a warm bubble. “I feed them one meal. Someone else lets them warm up under a steamcar. Another tosses a spare blanket. This and that, here and there—the little ones can make it to spring on everyone’s help.”

“That’s a sunny way to see it.”

“You’re too much a realist.”

“I get that a lot. I weigh the facts and the likely outcomes.”

“And you skip the sudden turns,” Selina added, a quick dart. “That won’t do, Professor.”

“Hmph. You actually talked me around.”

“In that case… can we keep one?”

“You want a beating?”

“N‑no.”

Hedi smiled, a thin crescent, teasing to soften the knot. She’s good at using humor to close the distance—smart, deft. You could see it back in the Dark Realm, but it lands only now. Have I been that dull with Selina’s nature?

“Professor! I want a shower.”

“You don’t need my permission for everything.”

She brushed her fringe up and dropped onto the sofa, listening to the bathroom’s water rush—whoosh and patter, a small river behind a door.

“I use this shampoo too,” Selina called, surprise fizzing. “Orange scent.”

“Smells nice.”

“Didn’t think you liked oranges.”

“I don’t. Too sour.”

“But this shampoo—”

“I smelled it on you, so I bought one to try.”

“When?”

“Shattered City.”

Selina’s pitch jumped, little squeaks like a kettle—eh, eh, eh. “Same as mine!”

“Clerk’s recommendation. Same as yours, right?”

“No. Orange to orange can be worlds apart.”

“Sounds like a long lecture.”

“Want to hear it?”

“If you don’t wash faster, I’ll clobber you.”

The bathroom answered with splashes and clacks, water and bottles skittering. Selina cracked the door and poked her head out. Hair a little wild. Droplets rolling down her cheeks. Skin flushed like peach under warm light—all of it telling the story of cheerful chaos.

She asked, a touch sheepish, “What should I wear?”

“Where’s your clothes?”

“If I put those back on, it ruins the shower.”

“Got it~~”

Hedi headed upstairs and dug a white fleece robe from the closet.

“Try it.”

“And you?”

“I’m not bathing.”

“Cold and you won’t bathe?”

“Exactly because it’s cold.”

Selina took the robe and shut the door again. Her body surfaced on the frosted glass like an Impressionist haze. Even blurred, the gentle arcs and narrow waist wrote clear lines.

Hedi leaned on the wall, eyes drawn to the misted canvas. She imagined light skimming Selina’s body—pale neck, slippery arms, a little hollow for the navel—until Selina pushed the door open and the daydream scattered.

“Your face is so red.”

“Is it?”

“You’re very fair. It shows in one glance.” Selina paused, then hiccuped. “Hic… Pro… hic… Professor!”

“It’s not what you think!”