"As long as she’s happy, I don’t care about myself—"

Fusiming, clueless about romantic relationships, didn’t realize this mindset made him prime prey for toxic partners’ manipulation.

Selflessly giving without expecting anything back. Treating her joy as his own—even if her happiness came at his expense.

This was the self-abasing mentality of a spineless pushover, trampling his own dignity into dust.

Undeniably twisted.

All people were equal—even in love.

If he’d chosen the right person? Fine. Mutual affection, sweet romance, lifelong companionship.

But pick the wrong one? Total ruin. Heartbroken, penniless, hollowed out.

No exaggeration—just the brutal reality of human connections.

Luckily, Nainai was equally clueless about romance.

Having once been a boy herself, she hadn’t noticed how unnaturally Fusiming doted on her.

Compared to others, he bent over backward for her every whim.

No frame of reference, after all. That’s just how old incels operated.

Otherwise, that shameless little succubus would’ve climbed straight up his nose, exploiting his pure-hearted innocence with ruthless PUA tactics.

...

Drenched in sweat, Nainai’s delicate little feet ached from the impact.

Fusiming’s stupidly muscular body was rock-hard.

Whatever.

A frail girl like her shouldn’t wrestle a hulking Extraordinary Being—it was plain stupid.

Self-inflicted suffering.

Nainai parted her lips, panting softly.

Beads of sweat dotted her pink-tinged forehead, plastering her cherry-blossom bangs into damp clumps.

Stray strands tickled her nose, making her nostrils itch.

*Sneeze coming.*

“Ah-choo❤...”

“Hah...”

Frowning slightly, she squeezed her eyes shut and scrunched her nose, rubbing the reddened tip furiously with tiny hands.

Then, as naturally as breathing, she wiped the snot onto Fusiming’s white Adidas-logo T-shirt.

Fusiming: “...”

*Why does she keep wiping snot on me?*

The young man felt utterly drained.

Seeing his tight-lipped silence, Nainai smirked inwardly.

Fine, she couldn’t disgust him physically—so she’d torment him mentally instead.

Wiping snot? Child’s play.

She’d be *kind* not to wipe poop on him!

If not for lacking a certain unnamed Indian YouTuber’s habits, she’d skip washing her hands after bathroom breaks just to smear them on Fusiming’s mouth.

*Eat shit!*

...

“Ah... choo❤... choo❤... choo❤...”

“Hah... hah... ngh❤...”

Even the gods above seemed fed up with Nainai’s shamelessness.

Divine punishment struck.

Just as she thought the worst had passed, her nose flared with phantom itching. Violent, snot-spraying sneezes erupted one after another.

The culprit? A ghostly strand of peach-pink hair haunting her nostrils.

*Hmph. All Fusiming’s fault.*

After tucking the stray hair away, she blamed the young man in her head without hesitation.

Thankfully, it stayed in her thoughts—or poor Fusiming would’ve cried injustice.

“Hey, idiot.”

Having rearranged her hair and drawn a snot-stained map of some imaginary country on his shirt, Nainai kicked his calf with her toe and planted her hands on her hips.

“What’re you doing? Sneaking around like a ghost... Carrying rebar to start a real estate empire?”

“...”

Ignoring the expanding snot-territory on his shirt, the youth shook his head silently.

Then, in a low, raspy voice, he murmured:

“Helping... the cats... renovate...”

“This is... an apology gift.”

“Apology? To who? That black cat?”

Nainai frowned.

With “cat” as the subject and “apology gift” as the object, she could only think of the intelligent three-eyed, two-tailed black cat that had fought Fusiming last night.

*Since when did this bastard get cozy with it?*

Weren’t they trying to kill each other yesterday?

And didn’t the cat prefer *her*? Didn’t it hate *him*?

*She* was the one who came first!

A sour ache spread through her chest—like watching a beloved stolen by some blond bastard. Nainai bit her lower lip.

“Mrrrow... mrrrow...”

Speak of the devil.

A familiar low, rumbling meow echoed nearby. The strange black cat now perched atop the hood of Nainai’s Mini Cooper, gazing down at them.

Its amber eyes remained aloof, yet noticeably softer than yesterday’s glare.

If goodwill could be quantified, the cat’s attitude had shifted from -95 (Fusiming: -100, Nainai: +5) to around +15.

Not exactly friendly—but at least it no longer chased them off.

All thanks to Fusiming.

After treating his wounds last night, he’d buried himself in the Scavenger Squad’s archives.

He was curious about the cat’s past.

Those scattered, grimy newspapers hinted at a sensational case involving its former owner.

But Fusiming never expected... the Scavenger files held zero concrete records.

No matching death reports.

He’d planned to check newspaper dates today to narrow the timeline...

But the papers were too filthy—dates, publishers, even titles were unreadable.

Dead end. His investigation halted.

...

“C’mere, kitty~~**~~ Let me pet you...”

Nainai stretched onto her tiptoes, bright eyes curving into crescent moons. She reached up toward the cat on the car roof.

“Mrrp...”

True to form, the black cat yielded to her touch.

It half-closed its eyes, purring contentedly as it pressed its head into her palm.

Then, with a soft, raspy tongue, it gently licked her sensitive palm like savoring milk.

“Ah... tickles...”

Giggling, Nainai shivered as goosebumps bloomed across her skin.

“Sooo... kitty.”

She licked her pink lips, lowering her voice into a sultry whisper:

“You like me, right?”

The cat’s relaxed ears shot upright.

*Danger!*

Nainai’s peach-blossom eyes narrowed, a wicked smile curling her lips.

“Then... do you *hate* Fusiming?”

“...”

Hearing the thick jealousy in the little succubus’s voice, Fusiming sighed inwardly.

Eternal loli truly lived up to the name.

Her pettiness mirrored any child’s tantrum.

But contrary to Nainai’s expectations—the black cat’s reaction was...

It glanced at her once, then deliberately turned its head away.

*Turned away... turned away...*

Silence answered her question.

It couldn’t bear to lie to those kirakira-bright, hopeful eyes.

Not that it *liked* Fusiming.

It’s just...

Well.

He’d given too much.

Watching the cat’s evasion, Nainai’s smile faltered.

Her upturned lips drooped downward. The eager sparkle in her amethyst eyes dimmed into wounded shadows.

She’d lost again.

—*All Fusiming’s fault!*

Rage surged. Nainai dumped every ounce of humiliation from this defeat onto the young man’s shoulders!

“Hmph!”

Teeth clenched, body trembling.

*When will I, Nainai, finally stand tall?!*

She shot one last furious glare at the innocent Fusiming before stomping toward the dilapidated shack they’d stayed in yesterday.

“I...”

As Nainai’s designated scapegoat—burdened with layers of unjust blame—what could Fusiming say?

Just smile.

...

Stepping near the “cat house” sheltering twenty-odd felines, Nainai spotted the changes immediately.

This... couldn’t be...

The drafty holes were all patched?

Suspiciously peering left and right, she couldn’t glimpse the interior through the boarded-up windows and shattered glass.

Most shockingly—the rotten wooden door before her had been completely replaced.

Was this glossy black, metal-trimmed, waterproof-coated solid door really yesterday’s crumbling plank?

And beneath it—a square cat flap!

The exact kind seen in professional cat cafés.

*Gulp.*

Swallowing hard, Nainai pushed open this “Pandora’s box.”

What she saw inside left her speechless.

If yesterday’s shack resembled a *Monogatari* or *Saw* set...

Today’s was straight out of a YuruYuri-style yuri manga.

Spotless floors covered 80% by plush two-inch-thick mats. Elegant cat trees and cozy nests stood in neat rows.

Could this possibly be the same dust-choked horror show from last night?

Shoe-changing area by the entrance to protect the mats.

Multiple large litter boxes of varying sizes tucked in the corner.

Peeling walls repainted smoothly, padded with soft foam wallpaper.

If the hard renovation was this perfect—the water, snacks, and supplies must be immaculate too.

The resident cats now lounged lazily in their cushioned nests, grooming each other with decadent ease.

Thoroughly corrupted by capitalist comforts.

Nainai stared blankly at the candle-like glow of the ceiling lights, questioning reality itself.

*Am I dreaming? Still asleep?*

*Or starving to death, hallucinating before I die?*

—*Did I open this wrong?*