Everyone thinks I’m a social climber trying to trap Bobby Welles into a marriage. A gold digger desperate to secure the bag. In reality? The man has a severe cognitive disorder. He doesn’t see me as a woman. He thinks I’m a cat. My System and I are at our wits’ end. Once again, I try proposing to him. Bobby sighs, his voice dripping with endless patience. “Sweetheart, humans and cats can’t legally marry.” Hearing this for the hundredth time, I lose my temper. I slap him across the face. He winces, his sharp jaw clenching as those deep, dark eyes narrow in slight pain. I feel a spark of hope. Did I finally snap him out of it? Then he gets up to grab the nail clippers, muttering under his breath, “Looks like somebody needs her claws trimmed.” I scream internally. “System! His affection meter is at a hundred percent! Why do we have to get married to clear this stupid quest?!” System: “You’re the one who wanted the shortcut, remember? I told you we should have cured his cognitive glitch first.” Bobby scoops me up and sets me on his lap. He gently holds my hand, carefully trimming my nails. The afternoon sun filters through the window, catching the absolute devotion in his eyes. To anyone else, it would look incredibly intimate. But to Bobby, this is just a routine chore for a dedicated pet owner. As long as I sit still, he’ll praise me, calling me his “regal, precious little champion.” I let out a bitter, breathless laugh. “I am a human.” … Bobby’s expression softens with that complicated look you give a kitten who has suddenly started pondering the universe. He’s proud, yet reluctant to shatter my illusions. “If you want to believe that, sweetheart, then you are.” A moment later, he pauses, looking puzzled. “How come I’ve never heard you meow?” Hope flares up in my chest. I stare at him, practically begging him with my eyes to put the pieces together. He just chuckles, going back to trimming my nails. There is a quiet, secret pride in his smile. “Of course. A genius kitten doesn’t need to meow.” System: “I’m out of ideas. The man would literally believe in a talking cat before he believes you’re a human. I can’t watch this anymore. I’m going to the shop to see if there are any useful items.” A few months ago, I was laid off from my dead-end marketing job. I was sitting on a plastic crate by the curb, chewing on a cold sandwich, when a rogue System bound itself to me. It told me my target was Bobby Welles—a man worth billions. I looked down at my split ends, my pilled sweater, and my scuffed sneakers. I blinked. “Me?” System: “Yes. He’s about to walk past.” I thought it was a joke. But then Bobby stopped in front of me. His usually cold, aloof gaze melted into pure, ecstatic wonder. He practically scooped me up, threw me into his car, and took me home. A filthy, unemployed human is a nuisance. But a scruffy, abandoned stray? You better grab her before someone else does. At first, I thought I was just a natural seductress. Until the night he dragged me to the bathroom door and immediately started trying to pull my clothes off. I reacted on instinct and punched him right in the jaw. He made these soft, shushing sounds, turning on the shower head. “Don’t be scared. It’s just bath time.” It was terrifying. I snatched the shower head and sprayed him straight in the face. He ended up completely soaked, his white shirt clinging to his chest and abs in a highly distracting way. Water dripped down his brow and jawline. He went silent, turned around, and walked out. I followed him, only to find him on his phone, googling: “What to do when a feral rescue refuses to bathe.” …? After a series of tests, the System and I concluded that Bobby wasn’t insane, nor did he have some bizarre roleplay kink. He genuinely had a cognitive blind spot. He truly believed I was a cat. Even when I tried to run away, he just assumed I was having a stress response. He’d gently coax me back, whispering sweet nothings. To break the illusion, I once dragged him to a cat cafe. I picked up a calico and held it right next to my face. “Look at me! Do we look the same to you?!” Bobby’s face flushed. He stumbled backward, waving his hands. I pressed closer. His breathing grew shallow, and tiny red hives started breaking out on his arms. The terrified staff rushed over with allergy medicine and ushered him out. Right. Bobby, the ultimate cat lover, was severely allergic to cat dander. Because of this, he spoiled me twice as hard. Thanks to him, I stepped foot into a luxury boutique for the first time in my life. By then, I had already given up on trying to prove my humanity. Honestly, Bobby was great at this. If you ignored the cat thing, he treated me like royalty. I had free rein of his credit cards, I could make a mess of the house, and I didn’t even have to dress up or wear makeup to win him over. I just lounged around in my pajamas, scavenging for snacks, and his affection meter would skyrocket. Occasionally, when I got annoyed by his constant cuddling and smacked him, he’d just chuckle and say, “My fierce little girl.” As I sat there, he draped one diamond necklace after another around my neck. “Wrap them all up,” he told the sales associate. Then he looked at me, entirely earnest. “Every single one looks beautiful on my little kitty.” Under the sales associate’s shocked-turned-knowing gaze, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I clamped my hand over his mouth and dragged him out. Before long, rumors spread that Bobby was keeping a pampered mistress. Meanwhile, I looked at the progress bar and accepted my fate. I let him take endless photos of me sleeping to use as his lock screen. I let him collect my stray hairs after blow-drying my hair, muttering about how “shedding season requires better nutrition.” I got used to waking up to him kneeling by the bed, watching me open my eyes, letting out a soft, adoring sigh. I even stopped resisting when he insisted on taking me to his office. He was a permissive pet parent, and I was a spoiled pet. So when I ran into my former tyrannical manager at Bobby’s corporate headquarters, I didn’t hesitate to point a finger. “He’s an animal abuser. Are you going to let him slide?” But running wild like this eventually brought its own karma. Lately, Bobby had been acting strange. No more hugs. No more kisses. He would cook dinner, slide my plate across the table, and immediately walk away. Sometimes I’d catch him muttering to himself in dark corners, wrapped in a heavy, suffocating cloud of self-loathing. When did this start? I think it was the night he picked me up, weighed me in his arms, and sighed miserably about why he couldn’t get me to gain weight. Then he desperately begged me to sleep in his bed. But why should I? If I could clear this quest lying down, why should I do any work? I had struggled against his solid chest, suffocating in his muscles. He held me tight, kissing the top of my head repeatedly. A bed. A man and a woman. Hugs and kisses. All the ingredients of a romance. But there was zero sexual tension. Nobody tries to set a mood by rubbing your hair into a bird’s nest. As I was lost in thought, a sudden splash of hot coffee hit my thigh. The searing heat made me gasp, tears instantly welling in my eyes. The assistant shrugged carelessly. “Oh, sorry. You should really watch where you’re standing, Ms. Mercer.” I knew this guy. I’d overheard him in the breakroom once, laughing with some coworkers, calling me a gold-digging parasite who would get dumped the second Bobby got bored. So that was it. He thought because Bobby had been distant lately, I was easy prey. I stood up, gritting my teeth, and called out, “Bobby!” Usually, whenever I called his name, he’d appear in a flash, looking thrilled, and fix whatever problem I had. I had grown soft relying on him. But this time, there was only silence. In the quiet, tense office, my face burned with humiliation. The assistant smirked. “Mr. Welles didn’t tell you? He’s out with Miss Davenport. Their families are discussing an alliance. She’s actual old money. Not like some people who think a little attention means they’re getting a ring.” He sneered, turning on his heel and walking out. The System returned to find me sitting on the sofa, looking hollow. A red, angry burn was blooming on my thigh, and my white dress was stained with brown coffee. It gasped. “Host, what happened?” I shook my head. I used to be an orphan who spent her life walking on eggshells, reading the room. But in just a few months, Bobby’s endless spoiling had made me weak. I had gotten used to him fighting my battles, used to his unconditional warmth. I had forgotten how to defend myself. “System, if I forfeit the quest now, do I still get the ten thousand dollar consolation prize?” “Yes, but the completion reward is a million.” I stood up. When I walked out, the main floor was mostly empty. The remaining staff looked at me in surprise. I only asked where that assistant’s desk was. Once I found it, I saw his files and a fresh cup of coffee sitting there. I reached out and swept my hand across the desk, letting out a soft laugh. The coffee drenched his chair and his expensive wool coat. If being a social climber meant behaving badly, then in Bobby’s mind, I was just a kitten acting out. System: “Host… I actually managed to buy the cognitive correction item. Do you want to use it?” When Bobby returned, he carried the faint scent of a woman’s expensive perfume. But the moment he saw me, the exhaustion melted from his face. Then his eyes fell on my stained dress and the red burn on my skin. His expression darkened instantly as he rushed over. “What happened? Who did this?” My anger, which had finally cooled, flared up again at his sudden warmth. I turned my head away, snapping, “Why do you care?” Bobby immediately began apologizing, promising he would find out who did it. He leaned down, burying his handsome face against my stomach. I tried to push him away, but he only clung tighter. “Don’t be mad at me, Kitty,” he murmured, his voice muffled. “Please don’t leave. You were so thin when you lived on the streets. Last night, I dreamed I was a stray again, with no one to love me.” I looked down at the correction item in my hand, suddenly hesitating. Maybe I should just let it go. Was going back to cheap takeout, terrible bosses, and a cramped apartment really better than being Bobby’s pampered cat? But if Bobby married someone else, what would I be? I tested the waters. “What did you do today?” His fingers twitched, and he pulled back slightly. “…I met with a family friend. Lately, I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time I settle down.” I fell silent. Over the next few days, I quietly packed my bags, whispering a tearful goodbye to the beautiful clothes and jewelry in the closet. Bobby truly had impeccable taste. I had never looked healthier, my skin glowing and my hair shining. Then, I had the System activate the item. I braced myself for the next morning, when Bobby would wake up, realize he was harboring a grown woman, and throw me out. I spent the night calculating the value of the things I could take with me, deciding I’d still come out ahead. The next morning, I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. Bobby was already gone.
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