A few days had passed since the emperor's invitation was sent, and today was the day of the long-awaited meeting.

  Sophia stood before the full-length mirror, dressed in formal attire with her hair neatly tied back.

  Beside her, Seraphix stood wearing a tie perfectly sized for his neck, looking both adorable and formal.

  As she gazed into the mirror, her hands instinctively clenched tightly to her chest.

  "Feeling nervous?" Seraphix asked abruptly.

  "Yes..." Sophia admitted softly.

  "Why?" he pressed.

  "Well... we’re going to meet the emperor," she expined.

  Seraphix blinked. "And?"

  Sophia stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush. "He’s the emperor! The most important person in the empire! The one who sits at the very top, ruling over all, and—"

  Seraphix interrupted. "Other than being 'born' an emperor, does he have anything else?"

  Sophia froze. "Um... I don’t really know..."

  "Then I still don’t get it," he said, unconcerned.

  Sophia felt her head spinning, baffled by Seraphix's indifference. But then a thought struck her.

  'Right... Seraphix is a Nine-Stroke Beast. To him, even the emperor of an entire nation must seem like just another ordinary person.'

  A gentle knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Sophia turned and walked over to open it. Standing there was her mother, Valeslina, elegantly dressed in formal attire and ready for the occasion.

  "My, my, you’ve already prepared yourself? But I don’t see any maid around," Valeslina remarked.

  "Ah, yes. I... I wanted to do it on my own."

  Valeslina smiled warmly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Sophia’s face. "You’ve grown so independent. That’s wonderful, Sophia. But remember, as a high-ranking noble, it’s improper to take on a maid’s duties. Keep that in mind for the future."

  "Okay..." Sophia nodded gently.

  "Anyway, if you're finished preparing, let's get going," Valeslina said with a smile.

  ***

  Valeslina sat in the back seat of the Kovalevska vehicle, with Seraphix and Sophia beside her, on their way to the imperial pace.

  She focused on the road ahead, though her attention kept drifting.

  Every so often, her gaze shifted to her left, drawn to the small, adorable cat nestled in Sophia’s p, sleeping peacefully.

  'Oh my god! He’s wearing a tie now!'

  It had been a few days since she st saw the little creature, and even during her work, she found herself daydreaming about pying with this fluffy ball.

  Seeking distraction, Valeslina tried to initiate a conversation.

  "So, Sophia, what’s the name of your... tamed beast again? I think I forgot."

  "His name is Seraphix," she replied calmly.

  "Seraphix? That's an unusual name. What does it mean?"

  Sophia looked down, her expression tinged with confusion. "Ah... I think... I don't know."

  Valeslina smiled. 'Aren’t you quite adorable yourself.'

  "By the way, Sophia," Valeslina continued.

  "Yes?"

  "It's about Naphael."

  At the mention of his name, Sophia flinch slightly.

  "Please don’t hate him too much. He doesn’t mean any harm."

  Sophia was quiet for a moment before answering. "Mother, I don’t hate Father. And... I won’t hate him, no matter what."

  Valeslina was visibly surprised. "Oh, that’s unexpected."

  'If only Naphael could hear this,' she thought to herself.

  Sophia then looked at her, brimming with a smile. "And I won’t hate you either, Mother, no matter what happens. So please, don’t worry."

  Valeslina was quiet for a moment, then softly replied, "I see."

  At the sight of Sophia’s bright smile, Valeslina felt a sharp pain in her chest.

  ***

  I am now making my way through the halls of what Sophia referred to as the imperial pace. Sitting snugly inside my cat backpack, I observe the world unfolding around me from my elevated vantage point.

  As we walk, I make it a point to inspect the people around me.

  Observing the bustling crowd, something unusual catches my attention.

  'Cat ears... slit eyes... horns... and that one—an actual dog walking on two legs.'

  Some of the people here possess distinct animal-like features that make them stand out.

  As we move through the hall, it becomes clear that these traits are not only common but also command significant respect.

  Whenever we encounter one of these individuals, both Sophia and her mother greet them with notable deference.

  But that’s not all.

  Their stats and level are unusually high. Although they ck the vast mana reserves of someone like Naphael, their other attributes consistently hit triple digits—far surpassing the typical double digits of ordinary individuals... well, except for Valeslina.

  'Are they primarily combat types, whereas Naphael is a mage type?'

  After some time, we reach a grand double door adorned with intricate carvings. Valeslina steps forward and pces her finger on the handle, which glows faintly before the doors swing open by itself.

  The room inside isn’t very rge—there’s only a round table in the center surrounded by a few chairs—but the decor is undeniably opulent.

  Yet what captures my attention the most isn’t the room itself.

  'So many people...'

  About ten individuals stand around the table, all cd in white robes with hoods obscuring their faces. Some even wear masks.

  Valeslina offers a slight bow before leading Sophia to one of the prepared chairs. She takes a seat to Sophia’s left, while someone else occupies the chair to her right—a woman with tan skin and braided hair, her head slightly bowed and eyes closed.

  Across from Sophia sits another, more eborate chair, conspicuously empty.

  'I guess the emperor hasn’t arrived yet.'

  At Valeslina’s instruction, Sophia pces me on the table.

  From the subtle reactions, it’s clear that a few of the robed individuals are startled by my presence.

  'Does this world have some kind of taboo about cats on tables?'

  Then, the room falls into silence. No one speaks or moves, as though everyone is waiting for someone to arrive.

  'I guess now we wait for the emperor.'

  ***

  Shira sat quietly in the meeting room, her eyes closed, waiting for the emperor’s arrival.

  In noble society, it was considered improper for those who arrived first to look upon the guests who came after them before a meeting officially began.

  Behind Shira stood her eight-stroke beast, Mathilda, disguised as an imperial guard. The beast used an illusion spell from an amulet, taking the form of a mask.

  As she waited, Shira felt the familiar sensation of Mathilda communicating with her through telepathy, an ability innate to beast tamers.

  "Shira, that cat. He’s a primordial."

  Shira’s breath caught at the revetion, her composure almost slipping as her eyelids threatened to snap open.

  Among beasts, a strict hierarchy governed their interactions, with every beast instinctively aware of its pce.

  For Mathilda—a powerful eight-stroke beast—to identify the "cat" as a primordial made the meaning clear: it was unmistakably a nine-stroke beast.

  "I see. Thank you, Mathilda," Shira replied, her mental voice steady as she worked to maintain her calm.

  Shira’s extensive knowledge as a grand tamer allowed her to grasp the implications of Mathilda’s observation.

  In the hierarchy of beasts, the power difference between a one-stroke and two-stroke creature was negligible, but with each rank, the gap widened exponentially.

  An eight-stroke beast like Mathilda represented the pinnacle of known power—so the thought of a creature not only surpassing it, but doing so with an exponential gap, was unimaginable.

  At the realization, an emotion began to surface within Shira.

  Fear.

  A rare, almost forgotten feeling.

  Yet alongside it, there was an undeniable flicker of excitement. She wanted to learn more, to witness the unimaginable strength of such a being.

  Even with Mathilda’s confirmation of its nine-stroke nature, Shira resolved to proceed with the inspection. She was determined to uncover more about this primordial beast.

  Suddenly, a memory surfaced, unbidden—a recollection of her childhood, when her journey as a beast tamer first began.

  The spark of curiosity she felt now was familiar, reminiscent of her early days.

  "Right," she thought to herself, a small smile forming despite the tension. "This is how it all started."