Chapter 23: A New Burden and a Growing Café

“Got a favor to ask, maybe?”
Catsy’s soft voice cut through as the flower tea cooled, its steam butterflies fading.

“What kind of favor?”

Crash!
By then, the Nekomatas, having devoured their ice cream, were bickering as usual.

“Waaah!”
“Quit eyeing mine, meow! Can’t you see I’m savoring it, meow?”
“Waaah! If you don’t want it stolen, eat faster, meow! Biting’s cheating, meow! Still teething, meow?!”
“Aeong! Take it outside! Get out of the way!”

Their tussle on the cramped sofa threatened my few dessert bowls. I glanced at Bernell, hoping he’d step in, but he showed no interest.
He’d doted on young Aileen, but other kids were apparently beneath his notice.

I had to intervene.
“Alright, enough. Stop fighting.”

I wondered if these cunning brats were staging this to score more free ice cream later.
I cleared the fragile bowls first, wiping up the mess with a towel.
Without offering ice cream as a bribe this time, the fight dragged on longer than before.
I grabbed their faces under the pretense of cleaning ice cream smudges, redirecting their attention.

“If you’re still teething, I’ll pull them all out…! Growl growl…”
“Good, good.”
“I’ll show you how sharp my teeth are…! Purr purr…”
“Look here, you’ve got some on your cheek.”
“I didn’t fight! I don’t need—! Purr purr purr… Get off!”

Despite their human forms, they were unmistakably cats. My fingers felt their pleased vibrations as I scratched under their chins, their triangular ears twitching.

“Looks like you’ll take good care of them, maybe?”
Catsy, who’d ignored their squabble, gave me an approving look, her yellow beastly eyes crinkling with satisfaction.
That gaze sent a chill through me.

“About that favor…”
“Can you watch the dream kittens, maybe? They’re too young, so while I repair the dimension, I need a place to leave them, meow.”

“What?”
My neck stiffened, muscles tensing.

“Catsy can’t focus on us while fixing the dimension,” Aeong explained calmly. “The adult cats who cared for us were mostly wiped out in the evil god’s attack.”
After such an invasion, guarding even her own dimension made sense, but…

“Sorry, but this place isn’t—”
Not a daycare! I nearly shouted, swallowing it back.
A baby bird and now kittens?

“This place isn’t safe enough to protect precious kids.”

“No worries. Your presence is still low, so it’s off the radar.”
Aeong defended me, but I wasn’t reassured.

“Do you know we’re the last kittens, meow?”
“If Catsy’s distracted and another evil god attacks, the dream cat lineage ends, meow!”

“Then a safer place—”

“Some dimensions use dream cats as medicine, meow! You think we’d trust just anyone with precious kittens, meow?”
No matter how I resisted, escape was impossible. These cats, who’d deftly offloaded Bernell, would overpower me with numbers.
Maybe giving in was the answer.

“You don’t mean… they’d stay here permanently?”

“Just while I’m repairing, maybe?”
So, a daily daycare drop-off.
I recalled cats practice communal rearing. Wasn’t this exactly that? Me, stuck with group parenting?

Refusing outright risked my hard-earned trust with Catsy. If she stopped visiting, my Causality income would tank—a huge loss.

“If you insist so earnestly, I feel obliged to help.”
Catsy purred long and satisfied at my forced politeness.

But it wasn’t free.
She promised 1 cheok of Causality per kitten daily—3 cheok total.
With near-daily visits, the steady income wasn’t bad, especially with my latte art and Bernell’s abilities needing Causality.

Plus…
“Is this an idol?”
“Something like that, maybe?”
Catsy handed me a pink yarn ball she’d toyed with—a divine idol.
Naturally, she’d provide one for watching her kittens.

Tap.
Placing it beside a ceramic teacup on the display shelf felt reassuring, like collecting a rare item.
‘I got Catsy’s idol before the thunderbird’s.’

Her business done, Catsy left, abandoning the kittens.
I avoided their expectant, gleaming eyes.
Dressed in frilly gowns and tailcoats, the three stood like antique dolls, staring with unspoken demands.

But I knew their calm wouldn’t last.
Their ears flattened, and their twin tails swayed like pendulums, ready to pounce.
I had to act fast to avoid them tearing up the place.

Better to sacrifice a specific area to keep them contained.
‘Let’s see…’
I scanned the sparse first floor, barely decorated with windows, flooring, and a door.

With 9 cheok of Causality—today’s payment and childcare fee—I eyed the empty right side, opposite the pig-bird’s nest and my makeshift bed.
A kids’ zone.

Initial investment. Don’t begrudge it.
Was it the “Baby Bird” name attracting this?
I vaguely recalled a kids’ café I’d taken my sibling to once.

Using 1 cheok, I created a ball pit larger than a queen-sized bed.
“What’s that, meow? What’s that, meow?”
“All round balls, meow?”
The kittens bolted for it.

The pig-bird, curious, waddled over from its nest.
Flap.
Another cheok built a hazelwood lattice fence with faux vines to contain the balls without ruining the café’s aesthetic.

But a ball pit wouldn’t hold Nekomatas.
Recalling cat cafés, I spent 2 more cheok on a towering cat tower and a cat wheel.
Was treating divine Nekomatas like cats too much?

“How great is high ground, meow? Nothing taller, meow?”
“It keeps spinning, meow? Can’t stop, meow?”
“Aeong, she’ll puke. Stop spinning and get down!”
They shifted to cat forms, gleefully using the setup.

Four cheok spent, but the results were solid.
“Bbiak bbiak!”
The pig-bird joined the fun, aligning with my plan to ease its separation anxiety with friends.
Birds and cats—natural enemies—but in the playground, just kids.
If they bonded, maybe it’d pester me less.

“Remarkable,” Bernell said, watching silently.
“It feels like magic.”
“Something like that.”
“I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah. If you’re proud, don’t stand there—work. We’re swamped. Clean the floor. Check for ice cream spills over there.”
Handing him a mop, I ignored his reluctance. Time to expand the second floor.

One cheok restored the staircase.
The neglected second floor was finally open.
“Forget the floor—help clean up here.”

Until Catsy returned for the kittens, we scrubbed the second floor.
Bernell, noble-born, cleaned with a grim face, but his knightly stamina impressed me.
Initially a burden, his help and added manpower slightly raised my opinion of him.

“Phew…”
The empty second floor gleamed. Four cheok left.
Once I started spending, I couldn’t stop, emboldened by guaranteed future Causality.
I’m weaker to impulse spending than I thought, like workers blowing their pay, trusting next month’s.

The second floor, barer than the first, felt vast—college-campus-franchise-café-sized, without even a kitchen.
Whoosh.
Two cheok divided it with walls and doors, creating four decent-sized rooms, minus a hallway.

“Sleep here,” I said, spending 1 cheok on a bed in the farthest room.
“Like a prison,” Bernell muttered.
Having seen his and Aileen’s mansion rooms—each as big as the café, with separate parlor areas—I understood his dismay.
My norm was his despair, but I added windows to ease the claustrophobia.

“My room’s here.”
I pointed to the next room, planning to keep my makeshift first-floor bed.
One cheok left—no new bed for me.

“Next door, huh?”
Bernell brightened, though I didn’t get why.

I eyed the two unassigned rooms.
‘A guesthouse? Room café? Or for future staff?’
Steady Nekomata income sparked ideas of long-term guests.

No other customers came, so I closed early and slept.
Bernell’s door creaked often—he wasn’t sleeping—but soundproofing kept it from bothering me, and I drifted off.