The memory shifted.

Gawain was sitting on a chair while the small leopard lay across his lap. He brushed its fur gently with a wooden brush, humming some random tune completely off-key.

"Look at you," he said proudly. "Your fur is shinier than my future."

The leopard in his lap blinked slowly.

He continued brushing with the proud expression of someone who believed he had just achieved peak adulthood.

The memories stopped when the man instantly noticed something was wrong, his cheerful expression vanished as he carefully rubbed my head. "M-My Lady?" he asked, worried. "I-Is something wrong?"

Before I could even squeak out a proper nyang, he suddenly set me down on the table when a dagger flew straight through the air as he caught it effortlessly between two fingers.

The blade stopped just an inch from his cheek.

He stared at it then slowly turned his head toward the door.

"Get away from the Lady," Agatha’s voice was cold enough to freeze water.

She stood at the doorway, shoulders tense, daggers already fanned between her fingers like silver claws. The delivery box had been dropped near her feet, forgotten the moment she saw the stranger holding me.

For a split second, the room fell completely silent.

"...Is this how the staff greets guests nowadays?" he asked casually.

Agatha didn’t answer as another dagger flashed through the air.

Gawain tilted his head.

The blade sliced past his ear and embedded into the wall behind him. "...Alright," he admitted slowly. "That one felt personal."

"Get. Away. From. Her."

Gawain raised both hands slightly in surrender—well, the hand without the dagger. The other still held Agatha’s weapon between two fingers like he’d caught a falling leaf.

"Okay, okay," he said calmly. "Let’s all calm down before someone redecorates the room with my organs."

I was sitting on the table now, fur puffed up like an electrified cotton ball.

Agatha kept her eyes locked on him. "Identify yourself."

Gawain blinked. "I’m the Lady’s most loyal servant."

"Your name."

He sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest like a tragic stage actor.

"My name is Gawain. Full-time nanny slash knight of the lady. Does that answer your question?"

Agatha’s grip on her daggers tightened. "You have five seconds to leave before I remove your ability to walk."

"Whoa, whoa." He raised both hands again and looked at me. "My Lady, why does this maid look like she really wants to kill me?"

Agatha took a step forward. "Three seconds."

"No. I just reunited with the lady," he scoffed.

Agatha’s patience snapped as she threw another dagger, whistling through the air like a bullet.

Gawain caught it again, this time with his other hand. Now he was holding two daggers.

He examined them curiously. "Nice balance," he commented. "Good weight. Where’d you buy these?"

Agatha’s eye twitched. "You’re trespassing."

"You’re overreacting."

"You’re holding my daggers."

"Technically," he said thoughtfully, "you threw them at me."

Meanwhile I sat on the table watching this exchange like an audience member at the world’s most stressful tennis match.

Back.

Forth.

Back.

Forth.

Agatha suddenly moved, three daggers flashing through the air at once.

Gawain leaned sideways, one dagger skimming past his cheek, he caught the second, and the third aimed at his knee which he simply dodged easily.

"...Okay," he admitted. "That one was impressive."

Agatha pulled out more daggers.

’How many did she even have hidden in that maid uniform?!’

"Last warning."

Gawain slowly placed the captured daggers on the table beside me then he raised his hands again. "Alright. Truce."

Agatha didn’t lower her weapons.

He sighed then pointed at me again. "I’m only here for her."

Agatha’s eyes darkened. "That’s exactly why you’re leaving."

"My Lady," he said helplessly, looking at me, "did they hit your head or something? Why are you pretending not to know me?"

That was when my headache returned, a sharp pulse stabbed through my skull as another memory resurfaced.

Kitchen... and smoke.

Lots of smoke.

Gawain stood in front of a pan that was very clearly on fire. "Okay," he said calmly.

The pan burned harder. "Okay this is fine."

The cabinet above him caught a little flame. "This is still manageable."

Meanwhile, the leopard on the table stared at him in silent judgment.

Gawain grabbed a lid and slammed it onto the pan immediately putting off the fire then he turned towards the leopard proudly. "See? I’m not lying when I told you I was once a five-star Michelin chef!"

The memory immediately jumped forward.

"Say aaah," he said, holding a spoon close to the leopard.

The leopard stared.

"...Don’t give me that look."

The spoon moved closer.

"You literally can’t use utensils."

The leopard slowly opened its mouth.

Gawain pumped his fist. "Yes! Trust in the chef."

Another memory hit.

We were outside in a sunny field. Gawain was proudly holding a stick. "Alright," he said seriously. "Today you will learn an important life skill."

He threw the stick. "Go fetch!"

However the leopard didn’t move.

Gawain crossed his arms. "Don’t look at me like that."

The leopard continued staring.

"You’re basically a cat-dog hybrid."

Still nothing.

"...Fine. I’ll get it." He walked to retrieve the stick himself.

I felt my eye twitch inside the memory.

’This bastard...’

Another flash.

The leopard throwing something—probably a small rock—straight at Gawain’s forehead.

Thunk.

He froze dramatically.

Then collapsed to the ground like he had been shot by a cannon.

"Ack!" he cried. "My skull! My fragile skull!"

The leopard only stared at him, unimpressed.

Gawain peeked through one eye. "You didn’t even check if I was alive."

The leopard walked away.

"My Laaaaady!" Gawain shouted on the top of his throat as he followed the leopard closely.

There were more countless embarrassing and annoying memories that kept flashing on my mind but I managed to keep it down, my ears flattening slowly. "Ny...ang..."

Gawain noticed instantly. His playful expression disappeared and was replaced with concern. "What’s happening to you, My Lady?" he asked, leaning closer.

I stared at him. This time, the familiarity made sense. He is Gawain, the loyal servant from the leopard’s memories.

The loud idiot.

The dramatic crybaby.

And the most terrible one-star chef, I could faintly taste the food he cooked even if it wasn’t my memory.

Across the room, Agatha’s daggers lowered half an inch, though she still looked ready to commit murder if necessary.

"What did you do to her?" she demanded sharply.

Gawain looked deeply offended. "How dare you accuse me?" he said, placing a hand over his chest like a wounded noble. "Don’t you know I’m the last person in this world who would ever hurt her?"

I rubbed my head. The headache was still pulsing, but at least the memory avalanche had slowed.

"Agatha... stop..." I muttered weakly.

Both of them froze.

Agatha’s eyes widened. "My... Lady?" she said slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she had just heard.

Apparently she expected me to scold the intruder but instead, I had just told her to stop.

I gestured weakly at her. "C-Come he-here..."

Agatha approached cautiously, though her eyes never left Gawain.

I opened my OmniSync and started writing.

Gawain, of course, leaned over immediately and read every single word without shame.

"What he’s saying are all true. He is Gawain and unfortunately he really was my nanny—"

"Manny," Gawain corrected instantly.

I paused mid-typing and glared at him.

"And what do you mean unfortunately?" he continued, scandalized. "Did you know how I was the only one who volunteered to take care of you?"

I rolled my eyes so hard my ancestors probably felt it.

Then I continued writing.

"As I was saying, he was my manny, which thankfully I somehow survived under his care."

Agatha read the message then her eyes slowly shifted between the two of us before nodding slowly.

Agatha accepted the situation, unfortunately, Gawain had not.

"M-My Lady..." he sniffed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart again. "I’m hurt."

I stared at him flatly then a few seconds later, his expression suddenly changed.

First shock.

Then delight.

Then shock again.

Then he looked like someone had just handed him the meaning of life.

I squinted. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I wrote on the OmniSync.

Gawain pointed at the screen with trembling hands. "M-My Lady... you can speak and write?"

He looked like he had just discovered a miracle. "Is this the result of my hard work?"

I slowly turned my head toward him.

I swear...If I had hands instead of paws right now...I would absolutely smack him hard and possibly with a chair.

Before we could argue further, my ear suddenly twitched. I heard a faint sound brushing against my senses.

Footsteps slowly approaching.

My eyes widened, quickly grabbing my OmniSync and typed furiously. "Someone’s coming."

Both of them stiffened as I continued writing.

"Gawain hide. Agatha, clean up the mess now."

Agatha moved instantly like a professional maid who had just been ordered to erase a crime scene.

She began collecting the scattered daggers, straightening the table, and kicking the dropped box to the corner with efficiency.

Meanwhile Gawain spun around in panic. "Hide where?!" he whispered urgently. "There’s nowhere to hide!"

He looked under the table.

Too small.

Behind the shelves.

Too open.

Inside a cabinet.

Too obvious.

"This room is a death trap for intruders!" he whispered dramatically.

I glared at him. ’You are the intruder.’