I Stole the Villain's Cat, and Now He Thinks I'm His Wife

"Lady Kitsune," Tomoe offered a respectful nod. "The Lord is tied up with the garrison commanders. He asked me to show you the inner workings of the fortress today. If you are up for it?"

"Absolutely," I agreed, grabbing a sweet bun. "Lead the way."

For the next two hours, Tomoe gave me the grand tour.

The Kurogane Fortress was practically a small city enclosed by iron walls. We walked through the bustling courtyards, the noisy blacksmith forges, and the massive underground armory. Every time we passed a group of northern people, they stopped what they were doing and bowed to me.

"They like you," Tomoe noted as we climbed a set of stone stairs toward the storehouses. "Usually, capital nobles look at us like we are dirt on their shoes. You look at us like we’re people."

"I was a floor-scrubber three days ago, Tomoe," I laughed dryly. "If anyone is dirt, it’s me."

Tomoe stopped walking. She turned to me, her scarred face completely serious.

"Do not say that," Tomoe instructed firmly. "You survived the holy fire. You stood between the Demon Prince and the Emperor. In the North, we do not care who your parents were or what broom you pushed. We care about the steel in your spine. And you have plenty."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Thank you, Commander."

We reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the main storehouse.

Inside, it was absolute chaos.

Dozens of large wooden crates were stacked haphazardly across the massive room. Sacks of grain, barrels of salted meat, and bundles of winter wool were piled in a disorganized mess.

Standing in the center of the room was a very stressed-looking older man with a bald head, holding a long scroll of parchment and a brush. He was frantically counting a pile of turnips.

"Quartermaster Koji," Tomoe called out. "How is the winter inventory?"

Koji groaned, dropping his brush. He bowed to me quickly before turning to the Commander in despair.

"It is a disaster, Commander!" Koji lamented. "The blizzard blocked the southern pass early. We had to move the overflow supplies into this hall, but the ledgers are completely mismatched! I have three crates of iron arrowheads that are supposed to be dried fish, and I can’t find the extra blankets for the lower barracks!"

Tomoe sighed, crossing her arms. "Can you fix it before the deep freeze hits next week?"

"I am a quartermaster, not a magician!" Koji cried. "It will take ten men three days just to sort the grain from the oats!"

I looked at the chaotic room.

I looked at the ledger in Koji’s hand.

For nine years, my uncle had kept me locked in the Bureau’s basement. My only job, besides cleaning, was managing the meager rations he allowed Rin and me. I knew exactly how to stretch a cup of rice. I knew how to count supplies in the dark. I knew how to organize a tiny space for maximum survival.

This wasn’t magic. This was just practical survival math.

I set my half-eaten sweet bun down on a nearby barrel and walked right up to Quartermaster Koji.

"Give me the ledger," I said, holding out my hand.

Koji blinked in surprise, looking at Tomoe for permission. Tomoe raised an eyebrow but nodded. He handed me the long parchment scroll and the ink brush.

I scanned the messy columns of numbers. Uncle Kenji’s ledgers were much more confusing because he constantly forged numbers to steal from the Emperor. This was just sloppy handwriting.

"Okay," I said, my voice slipping into that calm, focused tone I always used when Rin’s life depended on my rationing.

I turned to the dozen workers standing around the room.

"You three," I pointed to the burly men near the back. "Move all the grain sacks to the northern wall. Grain needs to stay dry, and that wall shares a chimney with the forge below. It will prevent rot."

The men blinked, then scrambled to obey.

"You two," I pointed to the men near the crates. "Open every box stamped with a red pine crest. Those are the arrowheads. Stack them by the door for the armory guards to pick up. Separate anything that smells like salt, that’s the missing fish."

I walked through the aisles, my eyes darting over the supplies, my brush flying across the parchment as I rapidly corrected Koji’s math.

"Eighty sacks of oats, not ninety," I muttered, crossing out a line. "Move the winter blankets to the center crates so the mice don’t get them. Koji, your unit measurements are wrong. You’re counting by weight, but the capital merchants sell by volume. You have exactly twenty percent more flour than you think you do."

Koji stared at me, his jaw unhinged.

I didn’t stop. For the next hour, I directed the storehouse like a general commanding a battlefield. I didn’t need to swing a sword or throw a fireball. I just needed to organize.

By the time I rolled the ledger up and handed it back to the Quartermaster, the chaotic room was perfectly lined up. Food was secured. Weapons were sorted. The blankets were ready for distribution.

"There," I smiled, dusting off my hands. "You should be good through the deep freeze now."

Koji looked down at the perfectly corrected ledger, and then dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the floor.

"The Lady Kitsune is a genius!" Koji praised loudly. "A true blessing to the North!"

"Get up, Koji, please, it’s just basic math!" I flushed red, awkwardly trying to wave him up.

I turned around to find Commander Tomoe grinning widely.

But she wasn’t alone.

Standing in the doorway, having watched the entire display, was Akira.

He was leaning casually against the wooden doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His long pink hair blew slightly in the draft from the hall. The look on his face wasn’t just pride. It was absolute, breathless awe.

He didn’t care that my hands were covered in dust, or that I smelled like salted fish and turnips.

"You see, Commander," Akira said, his deep voice carrying across the quiet storehouse as his amber eyes locked onto mine. "I told you my wife was dangerous."