Chapter 21: This is a harmful hairball

“Unnie! It collapsed!”

“It’s still breathing, so it’s not dead. Let’s take it to a nearby vet.”

Ji Yoon scooped up the unconscious kitten, and we rushed to a nearby animal hospital. She showed the kitten to the nurse and completed the check-in.

There weren’t many people waiting, so our turn came quickly. Carrying the kitten into the exam room, the vet looked at me—not the kitten—with a puzzled expression.

“Uh… this is an animal hospital.”

“Yes?”

“If a person looks like they’re dying, you go to a big hospital. Why come here? Are you out of your mind?”

The vet, baffled by our entrance, spoke incredulously. I showed him the kitten.

“It’s not me who’s sick, it’s this one.”

“Even at a glance, you’re the patient, not the kitten. Are you sure you’re at the right place?”

“My body’s fine. Just check the kitten. It’s injured and unconscious—it looks like it’s dying.”

“The one who looks like they’re dying is you.”

“Oh, come on.”

When I pressed him to stop, the vet finally examined the kitten closely and spoke as if he’d figured something out.

“It got hit hard by a bigger cat. Looks like a stray kitten without a mother. It fainted from a head blow, but no claw wounds, thankfully. No other issues.”

“Will it have any problems surviving?”

“If you release it back where it was, the cat that hit it will likely try to kill it. Even in a new place, without a mother to care for it, its chances of dying are about the same.”

No one to care for it. Normally, I’d leave some tuna or treats and let it go, but I felt an inexplicable kinship with this motherless kitten, neglected like I was in my past life.

“It’s a pretty cute kitten. What do you think about taking it home? It’s easier to care for than you’d expect.”

I brought it to the vet to save its life, so abandoning it to die felt wrong. I decided to take responsibility and raise it. Since Ji Yoon would soon move in, the burden would be lighter.

“Any tips for raising a cat?”

“Well, it’s a stray, so it needs a health check first, then vaccinations. Want us to do it all now?”

“Is it okay to do everything now?”

“It’d be too much at once. We need to start with a health check, but we don’t know what it’s eaten, so you’ll have to wait about six hours. Why don’t you go home in the meantime?”

I realized I only had one chapter left in reserve. After apologizing to readers for missing daily uploads and using another, I needed to write one to stock up for a better tomorrow.

“I’ll come back in six hours. Wait, what time do you close?”

“It’s fine. You seem responsible, so I’ll stay open a bit longer today. You don’t look like someone who’d abandon it.”

Hearing the vet, we left the hospital. Ji Yoon, worried, asked me.

“Are you sure this is okay? You need to take care of yourself, too. Can you handle a cat?”

“I chose to take it, but you want to raise it too, right? We’ll share the responsibility.”

Honestly, if I had to raise it alone, I’d have refused. I was confident but overwhelmed by the idea of doing it solo.

“Ji Yoon, you still have packing to do, right?”

“Yeah, I can’t go to your place today. I’ve got streaming and packing to finish.”

“Got it. I’ll head back then. See you tomorrow?”

After sending Ji Yoon off, I got home and searched online about cats—food, habits, traits. One article caught my eye.

“Cat Mischief…?”

Intrigued by the title “Cat Mischief,” I clicked and saw cats smashing flowerpots and breaking smartphones—cute little devils wreaking havoc.

“If it actually does that, I’m screwed… Mine won’t, right?”

It’ll have a safe home and good food, so it should behave.

Unaware of the nightmare to come, I started writing a novel to build my reserve.

—

“Its body’s normal. Just weak from not eating enough, but otherwise healthy.”

“Good to hear. Are the vaccinations done?”

“Done, but it was a handful—almost messed up,” the vet complained, handing me the kitten.

“It looks docile but has a wild streak. Might be tough to raise.”

“I read most cats cause trouble. I’m prepared for some mischief.”

“Like people, cats have their own personalities. Some are lazy and don’t cause trouble, just sleep. Others are hyper and wreak havoc. The ones you saw online are probably the latter.”

The vet laughed and continued.

“Playful cats have playful charm, lazy ones have lazy charm. Each has its own appeal, right? It’s getting late. Raise it well. I’ll call about vaccinations in a week.”

“Thank you, you worked hard.”

“No big deal. It’s my last patient today. Take good care of it.”

“?”

Puzzled by his words, but with the hospital way past closing time, I left with the sleeping kitten.

On the way home, I bought kitten formula and toys. At home, I opened the crate, placed the sleeping kitten on the couch, and said:

“Sleep well. While it’s out, I’ll write… Where was I? The protagonist stabbing a pen into a villain’s head?”

In case the kitten woke up hungry, I put formula in a bowl. Checking the couch, the kitten was gone.

“…Where’d it go? It’s been less than 30 seconds.”

Let’s think. With those tiny legs, it can’t climb high. It’s likely somewhere low.

“Called a troublemaker, huh? Starting already?”

This house has more metal than wooden furniture, and not many hiding spots. The only place would be the trash box by the entrance.

“Bingo.”

Certain the kitten was in the trash box, I approached and saw a hellscape.

“This… damn furball…”

“Mew.”

Every carefully sorted recycling bag in the box was shredded to pieces. Not just one disposable trash bag—cans, plastics, vinyl, everything was torn apart in that short time and mixed together.

“Now I get why people call them little shits.”

Suppressing my anger, I grabbed the kitten rolling in the mess by the scruff, locked it in the crate, and returned to the entrance to sort the trash again.

“I have to re-sort all this from scratch?”

It was grim, but at least I’d written two chapters during the vet wait. Though late, I had time to sort.

“If I chose to raise it, I have to accept this. Thinking it’d be easy was my mistake.”

Blaming myself for expecting an easy pet, I double-bagged the trash to prevent tearing. After sorting, I taped the box shut so the kitten couldn’t get in again.

“Now that I think about it, could a kitten’s claws shred like that so fast?”

Questioning the damage, I checked the crate. The door, securely locked earlier, was wide open.

“How the hell did it get out?”

Crash!

A teacup shattered in the distance. Clutching my sanity, I thought:

I adopted a demon.