What’s it like to find an exceptionally clever stray cat?
Thanks for asking.
It feels like I may have to move to another planet.
After graduating, I took over a murder-mystery game cafe that was on the verge of going under so I could pay off my student loans.
The place had a mouse problem, so I picked up an orange cat from the back alley and brought it home. I named it Ju Zuo. All it had to do was show up for meals.
To amuse myself, I used discarded pages from my scripts to come up with a “character profile” for it: “A prowler of the night, a phantom thief of the city, a feline shadow assassin who punishes the wicked.” I even drew it an embarrassingly dramatic patrol route and told it to “go on patrol.”
I thought it couldn’t read.
Until one night, it dragged home a blood-soaked package containing the bounty token for a crime boss.
After that, the things it brought back got more and more outrageous: a flying sword dropped by a cultivator who lost control while flying, a freshly formed inner core from a demon beast, and a hastily scrawled “treasure map.”
Rumors spread throughout the city that a mysterious assassin codenamed Ju Zuo was lurking in the urban jungle, appearing and disappearing without a trace and preying on criminals.
The elite agents of the Abnormal Incident Bureau were tearing their hair out. They set a vast trap and swore to catch this “demon king wreaking havoc among mortals.”
Today, they booked out my cafe, supposedly to hold a meeting about the “Ju Zuo Capture Plan.”
I looked at the “demon king” nestled in my arms, purring as I stroked its fur, and fell into thought.
Wait a second. Should I put a little something in their tea?
