My cute cat maid

Her dorm was surprisingly spacious for someone living alone; it almost resembled a house, if not for the fact that it was on the 16th floor of the building.

But weren't dorms supposed to be shared? Why was it so damn spacious? Zoan scratched her head, but before she could continue, Thead slapped her hand, stopping her from messing with the wig Brit had worked hard to style.

"Stop doing that; you're going to mess up Brit's hard work," Thead warned, wagging a finger. Zoan clicked her tongue in annoyance and shot him a sidelong glance.

"Why do I have to wear this anyway? I look like an idiot," she said, glancing down at her outfit. She was right; her clothes clashed with her skin tone, and her hair felt fake—if you ran your hand through it, you'd feel the plastic.

Couldn't Thead find a better wig? What were they spending their money on? Design? Trophies? Women?

"When I say make me a nerd, I didn't mean it literally," Zoan said, walking around the room. She nodded at the living area and the wide-screen TV—it would be fun to watch movies on that. But it felt kind of lonely, considering she was the only one in the room.

Thead turned to her, noticing her expression fall for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"I heard that there are some students here from Golden High as well. You can try befriending them if you want," Thead says, crossing his arms as Zoan turns to him.

"No need, it's fine. This is okay," Zoan waves a hand dismissively, letting out a noncommittal noise from the back of her throat before crashing onto the couch and yawning.

"Your maid and driver will be here in a few hours. Your clothes are in your wardrobe, and the black door at the end of the corridor is your room," Thead explains as Zoan stifles another yawn, blinking up at him blearily.

"Aye aye, captain," she salutes lazily, raising an eyebrow at him. Just as he's about to head toward the front door, Zoan sits up. "Where's my schedule?"

"Can't you do anything by yourself?" Thead asks, annoyed, as Zoan flashes him a grin. "Aren't you a secretary?" she mocks. Thead narrows his eyes at her. "I work for your father, not for you."

"And I'm his daughter," Zoan shrugs, smirking. She stands to motion for Thead to come closer. "My schedule, come on." She gestures as Thead sighs, retrieves a folded paper from inside his suit, and hands it over to the raven-haired girl.

Zoan chuckles, opening it and reading, letting out a small hum.

She took a step back and sat down on the couch. "Class 2-1? Does this mean 2nd year, first class?" Zoan asked, sneaking a glance at Thead, who nodded in response.

"Wow, it's pretty different, right? Cool! But, uh—thanks. You can go now. I think I'll take a small nap once I manage to get this off," she said, folding the paper and pocketing it in her pants before she started pulling off her wig.

Thead clicked his tongue. "Try pulling the clips off the hairnet first. You should learn how to wear the wig by yourself; I can't always have Brit and Elaine here," he said, walking over to her and moving to take off her clips.

"Can you bend down? Gosh, you're as tall as a basketball player. Zoan, have you tried playing basketball?" Thead grumbled as Zoan threw him a cheeky grin, bending down to let him remove her wig.

"Should I?" she asked, ruffling her hair and fixing the standing strands.

Thead glared at her, draping the wig over his arm. "Don't! Your father will be angry at me," he said.

"Scaredy cat! Father likes you too much anyway," Zoan shot back, snatching the wig from his arm.

Just then, the doorbell rang, drawing both of their attention to the front door.

"Ah, right! Here, you can check the front door using this," Thead said, walking over to the screen on the wall near the door and clicking a button.

They saw a woman in a typical cat maid outfit standing at the door, her face red as some girls behind her stared. "Miss Zoan? Can I enter? I really hate this outfit you're making me wear," she said, leaning close to the camera.

Thead turned to Zoan, his brow furrowed in annoyance as she grinned broadly. "She looks cute," she remarked, prompting Thead to slap her arm. "Bastard," he clicked his tongue at her before opening the door.

"Miss Orlova, it's so nice to see you. I'm glad you're here to watch over Zoan," Thead said as Sol flushed, entering the apartment while Zoan shut the door behind them.

"It fits you perfectly, Sol," Zoan snapped her fingers, proud of her handiwork, as Thead glared at her from the corner of his eye. "You really have no shame at all," he muttered.

—

Sol had been Zoan's maid for at least five or six years now. She always bore the brunt of Zoan's teasing, whether it involved wearing something silly or obeying Zoan's every whim—like lying to Sir Elias about Zoan's whereabouts or even pretending to be Zoan at times.

"Come on, I heard there's a café nearby. We can get some coffee," Zoan pouted, leaning on the kitchen counter as she watched Sol cook her lunch.

"But you don't drink coffee," Sol replied, turning her head towards Zoan, confused.

Zoan let out a scoff, disappointed, before laying her head on her arms, nearly tipping off the chair. Thankfully, she managed to stop it by grabbing the edge of the counter.

"Careful," Sol reminded her, not sparing a glance as she carefully plated the egg over the rice, making a heart with ketchup before sliding it over to Zoan and presenting the plate.

"Wow, it looks good!" Zoan clapped, and Sol simply handed her a spoon.

"Miss Brit and Elaine taught me how to help you prepare your stuff," Sol said after a moment, watching as Zoan took a bite of her food, letting out an excited hum and nodding.

"Is that so? It's just a wig, though. I can handle it by myself," Zoan pointed her spoon at Sol, who only smiled, dusting her skirt and touching the frills at the end.

Zoan took another bite.

"Sir Elias bought you a bike," Sol said, smiling excitedly as Zoan blinked up at her. "A bike?" she nearly choked as Sol nodded enthusiastically. "It has a cute basket at the front, and you can carry your stuff on the back!"

"Ah, that kind of bike... why, though? Golden High is a ten-minute walk from here," Zoan clicked her tongue, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Without your dirt bike, you can use the one your father bought for you instead."

"It'll be too awkward to ride a bike in a skirt," Zoan refuted, still disappointed that she wasn't allowed to wear pants instead of her pencil skirt.

"We can make adjustments if you want. I can take your skirt to a tailor," Sol suggested, finally deciding to wipe off the kitchen counter, letting Zoan eat quietly.

Zoan let out a noncommittal hum.

"Still, that would be weird. I'd be flashing everyone—" Zoan joked, but Sol snapped her head in Zoan's direction.

"No! I'll tailor your skirt, and I will make it longer!" Sol insisted, causing Zoan to gape at her before shoving another bite into her mouth.

She smirked. "I was kidding—" But Sol was already stomping to her room like a woman on a mission.

"Ah, that woman, I swear," Zoan snickered to herself.