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

"My Lady! My Lady, look!"

Yua practically tripped over the veranda steps, clutching a bundle of freshly washed white silk. She looked terrified, but her eyes were shining with the thrill of our new espionage game.

I set down my teacup. Rin was busy trying to braid Yuki’s white hair while the cat-boy grumbled in his half-sleep.

"What is it, Yua?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"My sister in the central keep laundry just sent this over," Yua whispered, kneeling beside me and pulling a small, crumpled piece of parchment from the center of the silk pile. "She said a high-ranking court lady deliberately dropped it in the Warlord’s washing bin. She made sure my sister saw her do it."

I took the parchment. I unfolded it carefully.

There was no signature. Just a single line of elegant, flowing calligraphy.

The Emperor requires a Lotus Vigil tonight. The Ancestral Shrine has no guards, and the salt wards cannot stop human blades.

My blood ran instantly cold.

A Lotus Vigil. I had heard the palace maids whispering about it. It was an ancient, completely legal tradition where a new bride had to sit alone in the palace shrine overnight to purify herself.

If she died during the vigil, it was blamed on angry spirits.

"He’s making his move," I whispered, gripping the parchment until my knuckles turned white. "He’s legally isolating me."

"Who sent the note?" Yua asked nervously. "A friend?"

"There are no friends in the capital," I murmured, staring at the elegant handwriting. "Only enemies who hate each other more than they hate us. Lady Renge sent this. She’s giving me a heads-up so I can ruin the Emperor’s plan."

Suddenly, the heavy wooden gates of the East Palace courtyard slammed open.

A procession of six Imperial Mages marched in, wearing pristine white robes and carrying heavy wooden staffs. They stopped in the center of the gravel.

"By decree of the Son of Heaven!" the lead mage announced, his voice magically amplified to reach the entire pavilion. "The Warlord’s bride, Lady Kitsune, is summoned to the Ancestral Shrine to undergo the Lotus Vigil! She must depart immediately, to sit in isolation until dawn!"

The sliding doors of the master bedroom flew open so violently they actually cracked the wooden frames.

Akira stepped out.

He wasn’t wearing his court robes. He was in his dark training tunic, his katana already gripped tightly in his left hand. The blue yokai fire wasn’t just glowing; it was violently sparking off his shoulders like a thunderstorm.

"She is going nowhere," Akira snarled, his voice a pure, demonic vibration that made the Imperial Mages physically step back in terror.

"L-Lord Kurogane," the lead mage stammered, raising his staff defensively. "This is sacred law. If you interfere, it is religious treason! The Gods themselves demand the purification!"

"Then tell the Gods to come down here and ask me themselves," Akira roared, taking a lethal step off the veranda.

"Akira, stop!"

I lunged forward, grabbing his arm with both hands. His muscles were tight as coiled steel. He was completely ready to slaughter all six mages and start a full-scale civil war right here in the gravel.

"Kitsune, let go," Akira ordered, his amber eyes burning with absolute panic. "It is a trap. If you walk into that shrine, you are a dead woman."

"I know," I whispered urgently, pressing the crumpled piece of parchment directly into his palm.

Akira paused. He glanced down at the note. His sharp eyes scanned Renge’s warning in a fraction of a second.

"Renge tipped me off," I said softly, standing on my tiptoes so only he could hear. "The Emperor is sending mortal assassins, not spirits. If you fight these mages now, the Emperor gets to declare you a traitor to the Gods and rally the entire country’s military against the North."

"I do not care about the country," Akira growled, looking down at me. The sheer, overwhelming intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. "I care about you."

My heart did a strange, painful flutter.

I looked up at him, studying the Warlord who had completely flipped my world upside down.

For the first time, I saw the deep, agonizing conflict behind his Warlord mask. He looked terrified. But not just of losing his tether, he looked terrified of his own feelings. He had spent his entire life as a monster, a weapon, a Warlord. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable. He didn’t know if this overwhelming urge to protect me was the magic of the Consort Mark, or if it was his own actual heart. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

And looking at him, I realized I was just as terrified.

I had survived Uncle Kenji by locking my emotions away. I treated every relationship like a transaction. But standing here, holding the arm of the Demon Prince, I realized I didn’t want him to protect me out of obligation. I didn’t want this to just be a survival tactic anymore.

I wanted him. I just didn’t know how to say it.

"Akira," I murmured, my voice trembling slightly. "I am not a delicate capital flower. I survived a toxic basement for nine years. I can survive one night in a dark room."

"I can’t follow you inside," he whispered, the admission sounding like it physically pained him. "The shrine is wrapped in a Level-Ten Holy Barrier. Yokai magic cannot cross the threshold without incinerating the Warlord. You will be completely alone."

"I won’t be alone," I smiled, patting the heavy iron mesh vest hidden beneath my silk robe, and tapping the iron Tessen in my sash. "I am armed. And I know they are coming. Let me do this. Let me break his trap legally."

Akira stared at me. The blue fire slowly receded beneath his skin, though the tension in his jaw remained.

He didn’t pull me into a passionate kiss in front of the mages. He just raised his hand, his knuckles gently brushing my cheek. It was a terribly sad, incredibly tender touch.

"If the sun rises and you do not walk out of those doors," Akira swore quietly, "I will tear this entire palace down."

"I’ll see you at dawn," I promised.

I turned my back on my husband, my chest aching, and walked down the steps.

I didn’t pack a bag. I didn’t say goodbye to Rin, who was watching with wide, scared eyes. I just walked straight up to the trembling Imperial Mages.

"Lead the way," I said coldly.

The Ancestral Shrine was located at the very edge of the palace grounds, backed up against the high stone walls of the city.

It was an ancient, terrifying building made of black wood. The air around it felt heavy, thick with the suffocating pressure of holy onmyodo wards.

The mages didn’t speak to me. They escorted me up the wooden steps, slid the heavy doors open, and gestured for me to go inside.

The moment I stepped over the threshold, the doors slammed shut behind me.

Clack. The heavy iron locks fell into place on the outside.

I was officially trapped.

The interior of the shrine was pitch black, lit only by a single, flickering white candle in the exact center of the room. The floor was covered in a massive circle of pure white salt.

"Right," I muttered to myself, the sound of my voice echoing eerily in the empty hall. "Just a typical Friday night in the capital."

I walked over to the center of the salt circle and sat down on the cold floorboards.

I didn’t meditate. I didn’t pray to the Imperial ancestors.

I pulled my heavy black iron war fan from my sash and laid it flat on my lap. I unbuttoned the top layer of my silk robe to give my arms full mobility, exposing the dark iron chainmail beneath.

Then, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let my basement-rat instincts take completely over.

I listened.

The shrine was dead silent. But I knew how to listen to the silence. I knew the difference between the wind rattling a loose roof tile, and the soft, deliberate creak of a footstep on the veranda outside.

I sat there in the dark for three agonizing hours. My mind kept drifting back to Akira. I kept remembering the look on his face, that terrifying, desperate restraint.

Does he love me? I wondered, gripping the cold iron of my fan. Or am I just the only person who hasn’t run away from him?

Does it matter? a darker part of my brain whispered. You’re a floor-scrubber. He’s a prince. This is temporary.

No, I decided fiercely, opening my eyes to stare at the flickering candle. It’s not temporary. I am going to survive this night, and I am going to make him admit it.

A faint, almost imperceptible scraping sound echoed from the roof above me.

I froze.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. It wasn’t the wind.

Thump. Someone had just landed softly on the wooden rafters inside the shrine.

Lady Renge’s note was right. The Emperor hadn’t sent spirits. He had sent assassins. And they had bypassed the holy barrier by dropping in through the ventilation vents in the roof.

I didn’t look up. I didn’t move a muscle. I kept my breathing perfectly even, pretending to be deep in meditative prayer.

One, I counted in my head, hearing a soft rustle of dark fabric.

Two... three. Three distinct sets of breathing. Three assassins.

A tiny pinch of dust fell from the rafters, landing directly in the white salt circle in front of me.

They were right above my head. They were preparing to drop down and slit my throat before I could even scream.

I let my fingers curl tightly around the handle of my iron Tessen.

Welcome to the basement, boys, I thought, a cold, feral smile touching my lips.

With a sudden, deadly whoosh of displaced air, the three assassins dropped from the ceiling, their curved blades glinting in the candlelight.

I didn’t scream.

I snapped the iron fan open and swung upward.