Chapter 2

I turned around and met a pair of golden, vertical-pupiled eyes.

Unlike eighteen-year-old Gavin, twenty-four-year-old Quentin had completely shed his childishness.

He had also relied entirely on himself since childhood, which made him look even more mature than others his age.

The moment I realized he was the love interest I was supposed to pursue, a hint of guilt rose in my heart.

I was about to put some distance between us.

Then Gavin suddenly charged out from behind me and knocked me off balance.

He shoved past me angrily, leaving me with nothing but a look of disgust.

"Lacey, I’ll take back the freedom that belongs to me!

"From today onward, whatever I do has nothing to do with you!”

The girl beside him also lifted her chin at me provocatively.

“Lacey, this is a matter for the younger generation. Don’t interfere. Only I can give Gavin the freedom he desires!”

After throwing out their threats, the two of them ran off giggling.

The system also sounded somewhat hesitant. [Host, did you really spend ten years pursuing a thing like that?

[He still hasn’t even shed all his baby fur, yet he’s already chasing freedom.]

I blinked without saying anything and tried to steady myself.

Fortunately, Quentin quietly supported me when my steps faltered.

"Careful."

[Look at this. This is the quality standard our system handpicked.]

[Graceful, polite, and refined. Even when he grew up on his own, he still turned out perfectly well-bred.]

Because we were standing so close, Quentin’s scent drifted uncontrollably into my nose.

Unlike Gavin’s overpowering smell of cigarettes and alcohol, Quentin only carried a faint, pleasant scent of laundry detergent.

His obedience score was also a full sixty points.

I simply had no idea why the tips of his ears were turning red.

I was still distracted by these thoughts when the system sighed in my mind.

[Oh, Host, I just checked some scenes from his life. The difference between him and Gavin is like night and day.

["Miserable" doesn’t even begin to describe it. There isn’t a single unscarred patch of skin on his body, yet he never gave up on himself in those conditions. He kept fighting his way upward.]

I froze.

My gaze swept over the skin beneath his sleeve, and sure enough, it was covered in twisted scars.

They looked horribly frightening.

He must have suffered terribly over the past ten years.

I racked my brain, trying to figure out why Quentin was covered in scars and how he had gotten them.

After thinking it over and over, I realized that I had devoted all my attention to Gavin.

I remembered very little about anyone else.

I remembered even less about Quentin. In ten years, I only saw him a handful of times.

The first time was the year I took Gavin away. Quentin knelt in a huddle with the other members of his clan. Everyone else fought to be chosen, but he kept his head lowered and made no fuss.

The second time was when he fell seriously ill. I happened to return to the clan with Gavin and came across him. I could not bear to ignore him, so I called a doctor and paid his medical bills.

The third time was after he recovered. He came to apologize and quietly cleaned the entire yard, clearing up the mess Gavin left behind after throwing a tantrum.

I remembered that his eyes always shone brightly. Their light had never dimmed.

He rarely smiled and usually kept his face stern, yet his actions told a completely different story.

He remained just as calm now.

He pulled down his sleeve to cover the scars.

Then he quickly and skillfully located the household first-aid kit and carefully disinfected and bandaged my wounds.

"Miss Lane, you don’t need to be so upset.

"Gavin belongs to the civet-cat branch. His wild instincts are naturally stronger, so he’s difficult to tame. Perhaps once he grows older, he’ll realize that he actually needs you."

I lowered my eyes to the cuts covering my arm and gave a self-mocking smile.

At the same time, I could not help feeling curious about Quentin.

Almost without thinking, I asked, "What about you?"

Quentin’s hands paused, and the obedience score above his head flickered.

Sixty points.

Seventy points.

Sixty points.

"I…"

"I also…"

He lowered his eyes. His pitch-black cat ears and tail twitched.

In the end, I could tell that Quentin did not want to answer, so I cleared my throat and changed the subject.

"I meant, what species are you?"

"Black cat."

Quentin answered in a muffled voice, then grew even quieter.

[Host, black cats have been regarded as symbols of ill omen since ancient times. Perhaps that is why Quentin was never favored by his clan.

[Since no one stood up for him, he lived a miserable life among his clan all these years.]

I frowned and was about to say something.

Quentin apologized first, as if he could hear my conversation with the system.

"I’m sorry, Miss Lane. I frightened you."

He carefully tried to hide his fur color, but I shook my head to stop him.

"Not at all. It’s beautiful. I like it."

Quentin’s eyes brightened even more. The corners of his lips lifted, then quickly fell back into place. His voice was almost too soft to hear.

“Gavin isn’t the only one who needs you. I do too.”

He was answering my previous question.