The next day, Yue Ge woke up on the sofa. To be precise, he was roused by paws stomping on his chest.

As soon as he opened his eyes, Little Ash straddled him, slapping his face left and right.

Luckily, its claws stayed sheathed—otherwise, he’d be scarred for life.

"Huh, what now..." Yue Ge rubbed his eyes and flopped back down, closing them again.

Little Ash scrambled back onto his chest, pinned his chin, and growled a warning.

Annoyed, Yue Ge scooped up the cat and yawned. Outside, dawn hadn’t fully broken—barely six o’clock. Without Little Ash’s antics, he’d have slept till noon.

Last night, he’d stayed up cramming history from documents. He’d told Bai Ya about his amnesia—he remembered only his name. He still recalled her expression: a mix of "you idiot," with a trace of maternal warmth and a hint of exasperation.

After some explaining, Bai Ya finally understood. She lent him her laptop, patiently sitting beside him to clarify details. Yue Ge knew she was testing him, but he didn’t care. Honestly, if she’d trusted him instantly, that’d be weird.

According to Bai Ya, long ago, a massive mutation reshaped Earth. Some creatures transformed into "monsters"—tiny rabbits, house cats, even lions and giant birds. Humans extracted genes from them, calling it "Essence." Officials ranked monsters by threat level. The deadliest, dubbed "Gods," could single-handedly wipe out cities. Humanity’s range shrank drastically, confined behind ancient-style walls encircling urban zones.

From then on, the world flipped upside down. Populations crashed; nations collapsed within days, leaving only scattered federations. None bore names familiar to Yue Ge. This wasn’t his old world—seeing those names would’ve been stranger.

That’s why "Essence" mattered so much. It wasn’t just power—it was humanity’s only weapon. Bullets bounced off monster hides; only "Chosen Ones," Essence users, could kill them. No wonder Bai Ya, an Essence creator, was in high demand.

But Yue Ge’s main job wasn’t guarding her. She wielded a God-class Essence herself—she could escape most fights easily. Bai Ya actually needed him to run errands in her place. She rarely left home... plus chores: cleaning, laundry, and ideally, cooking all three meals.

Hmm... a weird gig. But Yue Ge didn’t mind—in fact, he liked it. After years of idleness, he craved things to do.

And so, the new day began with Little Ash slapping him awake.

Yue Ge sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the cat. He still didn’t get why it loved face-slapping alarms. Undeniably a "monster," Little Ash was low-mutation and harmless. From yesterday’s photos, some monsters were unrecognizable patchworks of beasts. Compared to them, Little Ash was adorable.

But it couldn’t talk. No matter how smart, paw gestures meant nothing to Yue Ge. Impatient, Little Ash pounced onto his back, grabbed his neck, and shook him hard.

"Shaking me won’t help—I still don’t know what you want," Yue Ge muttered, wondering if this cat was possessed. Normal cats couldn’t do this. He carried Little Ash to Bai Ya’s door and knocked.

The cat quieted, licking its paws while waiting. Silence lingered. Only after a second knock did a dull thud echo—something hitting the door.

Yue Ge held Little Ash with one arm and pushed the door open slowly. Resistance greeted him—a large pillow blocked the way, freshly thrown. The room wasn’t messy but far from tidy. Scribbled papers littered surfaces; two big suitcases leaned against the wall.

Bai Ya lay buried under her blanket, not a single inch exposed.

"Meow," Little Ash chirped politely.

"Don’t bother me..." a weak, muffled voice rasped—nothing like Bai Ya’s usual tone. "Yue Ge, feed it."

Yue Ge shot Little Ash an innocent look. The cat slipped from his arms and dashed to the living room. He glanced at the blanket lump, sighed, and closed the door. He’d guessed Bai Ya wasn’t as perfect as she seemed. His first visit had already shown her real daily chaos.

Back in the living room, Little Ash perched on its favorite cabinet shelf. It tapped the second drawer with its paw, eyes locked on Yue Ge. Probably too tricky for it to open alone.

Yue Ge pulled the drawer open. Inside, sparse items—most obvious was a bag of cat food, identical to Bai Ya’s. He finally got it: Little Ash had woken him just to eat.

Just hungry... what a waste of life.

He scratched his head, grabbed the bag, and asked casually, "Where’s the bowl?"

Somehow, he felt Little Ash understood. Sure enough, it dipped its head, leaped down, and trotted back with a bowl clamped in its teeth. It sat upright before the bowl, gazing up at him.

"You win," Yue Ge sighed, pouring kibble with a whoosh. He crouched, gently rubbing Little Ash’s head. The cat ignored him, burying its face to eat.

He realized this life wasn’t bad. Hospitals banned cats—he barely remembered petting one. Though Bai Ya claimed Little Ash wasn’t her pet, just a lodger. Yue Ge didn’t grasp the difference—domesticated versus stray?

Just as he stroked Little Ash’s fur, a knock echoed at the front door.

Yue Ge froze, recalling yesterday. Should he open it? Terrorists might lurk outside. Before he could decide whether to wake Bai Ya, the door creaked open on its own.

A hoodie-clad girl slipped in, locking it behind her with practiced ease. Their eyes met.

The girl froze, then ducked behind the shoe cabinet without a word. "Bai Ya! Save me! Intruder!" she shrieked.

"Shut up!" came the muffled reply.

She got scolded.