Boys

The video started as a whisper on the internet.

A simple post by a server: "Heard the most enchanting voice at a karaoke booth today. Didn't dare interrupt. Here's the audio. No filters. Just… listen."

The clip was less than two minutes. A grainy recording from outside a karaoke room. But the voice—clear, haunting, beautiful in a way that was neither overtly masculine nor feminine—resonated. It carried raw emotion, each note blooming with melancholy and warmth, wrapping around the heart like silk spun from memory.

Within minutes, the post was reposted. Shared. Quoted. Captioned with:

"Who is this?"

"This voice healed my inner child."

"I'm crying and I don't even know why."

"Not a man. Not a woman. Just art."

"Where's the face reveal???"

The numbers skyrocketed. 1 million views. Then 2. Then 5. Trending across multiple platforms under tags like #MysteryKaraokeVoice and #AndrogynousAngel.

Some were already trying to do audio forensics. A few had even triangulated the karaoke chain based on background noise. Speculation soared. Some thought it was a famous singer in disguise. Others said it was an AI-generated track. A few obsessive fans tried to lip-read through the frosted glass of the karaoke room. But there was no face, no video—only sound.

Only one person recognized the voice immediately.

Edward Sola.

He was in the middle of a call with a fintech startup founder when he saw the clip in passing.

He paused mid-sentence. Played it. Once. Then again.

A smile slowly curved across his lips. "Luna," he murmured to himself.

Ending the call with vague pleasantries, Edward leaned back in his sleek office chair, eyes narrowing. He moved fast—redirecting online tracing tools, wiping metadata trails, masking timestamps with low-level firewall interference.

He made a few quiet calls.

By the time the hour was over, any link between the karaoke booth and Luna's name had been buried beneath a thick fog of digital misdirection.

No one else would trace it back to her. Not unless he wanted them to.

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the manor, Luna was brushing her hair and checking the time, humming idly. Her phone buzzed. Kana's name popped up.

She answered with a light yawn. "Kana? What's up?"

"Luna." Kana's voice was oddly breathless. "You. Are. Viral."

Luna blinked. "What?"

"You know that karaoke clip? The server posted it—YOUR voice. It's everywhere. You're trending on every platform. It's insane!"

Luna frowned and sat down slowly. "Kana. It's just a karaoke clip."

"Just? Girl, your voice is literally being called 'a spiritual experience'. People are losing their minds. They're begging for a face reveal."

Luna groaned. "It'll fade. You know how the net is. Another meme or song and everyone forgets."

Kana huffed. "I don't think this is that simple. Your voice is charting on unofficial lists. Like actual music blogs are talking about it. There's even a tag: 'mystery voice of the year.'"

Luna sighed, glancing out the window at the late morning sun. "I'm heading to the cat café today. I need some normalcy before my life becomes even more absurd."

"You're insane," Kana muttered. "But fine. Go serve coffee with a side of god-tier vocals. But don't be surprised if someone walks in humming your song."

Luna chuckled as she slipped into her shoes. "They better leave a good tip then."

Kana snorted. "Stay safe, mystery diva."

"Bye, manager Kana."

Luna ended the call, grabbed her coat, and scooped up Milo for a quick cuddle.

"Don't get famous without me, Milo."

The cat meowed in protest.

She remained blissfully unaware—of the millions listening to her voice on loop, of fan theories, of Edward's quiet intervention—just a girl with her part-time shift ahead and the weight of two worlds quietly orbiting her.

Earlier That Morning

"Dad," Luna began, half a croissant in hand, "I got a message from the café last night—Ken says it's full bookings today. They're asking if I can work this afternoon."

Across the breakfast table, Emmerich raised a brow. "So, my daughter, heiress of the Arklight Group, still wants to work in a cat café."

Luna offered a sheepish grin. "I like working there. The cats are sweet, the customers are chill—mostly—and Ken actually pays me on time."

Emmerich chuckled into his coffee, the rare, unguarded smile on his face reminding her just how different he was at home compared to the stern image the public knew. "If it makes you happy, Luna, then of course you can go."

Luna perked up. "Really?"

"But," he added gently, "I'm sending bodyguards. Discreet ones. You won't even know they're there."

She groaned. "Dad…"

"No negotiation." He took another sip, looking completely at ease. "You're too important to me now."

Luna snorts, muttering something into her croissant before reluctantly nodding. "Fine. But no weird sunglasses or earpieces. I'm trying to pass as a regular cat café part-timer, not someone in witness protection."

Now,

The scent of coffee and the sound of chimes greeted her as she stepped into the cat café, a warm blend of nostalgia and peace washing over her.

And standing behind the counter—arms crossed, half-lidded eyes watching her like a lazy cat himself—was Leroy.

Luna's eyes narrowed.

"You're alive," she said flatly.

Leroy smirked. "Disappointed?"

"You sounded like death on the phone."

"Ah," he sniffed dramatically. "That was merely my last breath… until I heard your voice. Now, I've been revived."

"Cheesy," Luna muttered, stepping closer. "Let me see."

She squinted at him, eyes scanning his expression for traces of fever or fatigue. He leaned a little closer, as if daring her to touch his forehead. Instead, she pinched his cheek lightly.

"Ow."

"You're fine," she declared.

"Your bedside manner is terrible."

Before Luna could retort, a familiar, teasing voice called out from one of the corner booths.

"Still flirting with your coworker, Miss Luna?"

Luna turned to see Madam Mu, the long-time café regular who owned the jade shop down the block. Dressed in her usual elegant embroidered shawl, she sipped her tea like royalty, eyes twinkling.

"Madam Mu!" Luna beamed. "I wasn't flirting. I was examining a potentially unwell employee."

"Hmph. You keep looking at him like that, and his fever might come back just to get your attention," Madam Mu said, chuckling. "But he's lucky to have someone fuss over him."

Leroy snickered under his breath, clearly enjoying the entire exchange.

Luna sighed but smiled nonetheless. "Let me get changed and jump in. Where's Ken?"

"In the back," Leroy replied. "Trying to calm down Mikan. She bit someone again."

Luna shook her head. "Classic Mikan."

As she walked to the staff room to put on her apron, Luna took in the sight of the café—its cozy booths, the soft purring of cats winding around patrons, the steady hum of brewing coffee. It was normal. It was hers. Even if the world outside was spiraling with viral fame and hidden family truths, this place grounded her.

And as Leroy returned to prepping drinks, Madam Mu watched the pair with a knowing smile, sipping her tea.

The afternoon lull at the cat café had just begun to settle in—sunlight casting soft gold through the windows, cats snoozing in their usual sun-drenched spots, and a tranquil playlist humming low—when the bell over the door chimed.

Leroy, who had been lazily polishing mugs behind the counter, glanced up, instinctually alert.

A tall figure stepped in, cap low over his face, sunglasses too large, and a hoodie pulled up despite the balmy weather. It would've screamed "Trying not to be recognized" if it didn't already feel suspiciously familiar.

Madam Mu peeked over the rim of her teacup, lips quirking. "My, my… the cast just gets more interesting."

The disguised man removed his sunglasses once inside—and there he was.

Emilio Omnia.

World-renowned MMA champion. Coffee poster boy. Luna's dinner guest just nights ago. And now, standing in her humble cat café, very much out of place but trying not to look it.

Leroy's expression cooled instantly, his lazy demeanor turning sharp as his eyes locked on the new arrival. Emilio's gaze swept the café, seemingly casual—until it landed on Leroy. For a second, both men stood still, like wolves catching scent of another predator.

Undercurrents of silent challenge stirred the air.

Ken, who had been kneeling to give snacks to a group of customers playing with kittens, felt the sudden change in atmosphere like a slap of cold water.

He looked up. Saw Leroy's unusually rigid stance. Saw the new customer staring right back.

And did the only logical thing.

He retreated.

Ken scurried into the staff area and immediately picked up the emergency bell: Luna's wrath hotline.

"Luna. Code red. We've got a territorial standoff. Two alpha types doing that weird silence-staring thing that makes the air taste like testosterone."

Luna, in the middle of scooping kibble for Mikan, frowned. "You're being dramatic again."

"No. I know Leroy's normal scary stare. This is beyond that. The other guy's matching it. I don't get paid enough for predator standoffs."

Luna rolled her eyes. "You're so spineless."

Ken shrugged with zero shame. "And yet I live a stress-free life. Handle it before someone gets bitten."

Luna emerged from the back and spotted both men immediately. Emilio was now seated—barely—at a low table, one leg crossed too tightly, arms casually stretched on the booth like he owned the place. Leroy, meanwhile, had "just happened" to polish mugs right across from Emilio's table and had not blinked once since.

The cats were tense. Even the normally fearless Mikan had retreated to her hidey hole. Madam Mu, on the other hand, looked positively delighted, sipping her tea like she was watching a royal duel.

"Okay," Luna said, walking up with a hand on her hip. "Whatever this is—cut it out."

Both men turned to look at her, equally innocent in expression. Luna wasn't buying it.

"I don't know what primal scent war you two are having," she said, blunt as ever, "but if you're going to puff up and intimidate each other, take it outside. You're scaring the cats."

Neither responded immediately.

"I mean it," she added. "This is a sanctuary of caffeine, cats, and calm. Not your private cologne commercial."

Emilio raised a brow, a small amused smile playing on his lips. "You're really not pulling punches today, Luna."

Leroy, deadpan, added, "She never does."

Luna crossed her arms. "Then maybe I'll put you two in the same playpen and let the cats sort it out. Mikan's got a mean right hook."

A pause… then, unexpectedly, Emilio chuckled. "Fair enough. I surrender to the feline peacekeepers."

Leroy exhaled slowly, finally standing down and returning to the counter without another word, though the edge in his eyes didn't fade completely.

The tension lifted. A kitten poked its head out from under a chair, cautiously testing the air.

Luna nodded, satisfied. "Now—be civil. Sit. Pet a cat. Drink some overpriced tea like the rest of us."

As she walked back toward Ken, who was now peeking from behind the cat tower, he whispered, "I knew I could count on you."

"I still think you're spineless."

"Survival instinct."

Meanwhile, Madam Mu murmured to a nearby sleeping cat, "The drama thickens, doesn't it, Baozi?"

The cat meowed in sleepy agreement.

Mikan, the notoriously picky calico and queen of the café, had done the unthinkable.

She had chosen.

Out of all the laps available—from the quiet bookish girl near the window to the elderly couple who brought their own treats—Mikan had strutted, tail held high, right to Emilio's lap and curled up like she owned the place.

Even Leroy had paused mid-wipe, eyes narrowing slightly. Luna, meanwhile, blinked in quiet surprise. Mikan? That traitorous little fluffball only ever settled on her or Madam Mu.

"Looks like I've been accepted," Emilio said, one hand resting gently atop Mikan as she purred contentedly. "We're bonded now. She's mine."

"You wish," Luna muttered under her breath, just as a patron shyly approached.

"Um… excuse me?" the customer said, holding up a receipt. "I, um… paid for Mikan's lap time…"

Luna smiled politely. "Of course."

She turned to Emilio. "Alright, superstar. The people have spoken."

"No," Emilio said, cradling Mikan dramatically. "You'll have to pry her from my cold, lifeless arms."

Luna gave him a flat look. "You mean your expensive sweater. Don't think I won't do it."

He pouted—actually pouted. "You're mean. Ripping away my emotional support cat like that. I demand compensation."

With great precision and zero sympathy, Luna scooped Mikan off his lap. Mikan yowled softly, giving a rather indignant meow, tail flicking in betrayal. Luna carried her like a queen, whispering sweet bribes.

"C'mon, Mik-Mik. Tuna strips. The fancy kind. Just for you."

She guided Mikan to the waiting customer's lap. The cat sulkily sniffed at the offering, then reluctantly settled, as if to say, This is temporary. My heart remains elsewhere.

Luna turned back toward Emilio. "There. Crisis averted."

But Emilio, ever the provocateur, leaned his elbow on the table, gaze locked on Luna.

"Well now, since you took my cat away," he said with faux-sorrow, "how about you sit on my lap instead?"

A beat of silence.

At the bar, Leroy's hand stilled. A crack echoed quietly as the ceramic teacup he was holding creaked under his grip. Ken, who had just handed a fresh pot of jasmine to Madam Mu, nearly dropped the tray.

Luna blinked.

Madam Mu didn't. She simply took another long, luxurious sip of her tea and whispered to herself, "Delicious."

Luna exhaled loudly, rolling her eyes.

"You know," she said dryly, "with a fever like that, Big Sister Lu just might need to give you medicine the old-fashioned way."

Emilio tilted his head, curious. "And what way is that?"

She stepped closer, leaned in slightly, and tapped his forehead. "Herbal paste. Bitter as regret. Jammed right into your mouth before you can scream."

Emilio barked a laugh, leaning back with both hands raised. "Mercy, mercy. Alright, no lap jokes for the rest of the hour."

"You'll forget by the next one."

"Probably."

Meanwhile, Leroy quietly switched the broken cup for a new one, jaw tense, eyes never fully leaving the exchange. Ken looked at Madam Mu with a silent plea for explanation.

She simply smiled, eyes twinkling. "Dear boy… this is what you call drama. You just keep the tea coming. I'll never need television again."

The soft background music and gentle purring of cats filled the air as Luna leaned against the counter, tying her apron tighter. The rush had passed, and the café eased into its usual cozy lull—except, of course, for the seething energy vibrating off Leroy.

She noticed him glaring at Emilio with a stormy silence, jaw tight, hand flexing near the dish tray. The tension hadn't gone unnoticed—especially by Madam Mu, who munched her rice crackers with theatrical slowness and gleeful eyes sparkling like she'd been gifted front-row seats to a drama no one else could script.

"Leroy," Luna called gently, glancing over, "it's your break. You can go rest at the back."

Leroy gave a curt nod, stepping away from the bar—and not toward the staff room, but instead veering directly toward Emilio.

"I need a word," Leroy said, voice low. "Man to man. Out back."

The challenge was obvious, thick in the air like static before a thunderclap.

Emilio, still seated comfortably on the window couch with a ginger kitten trying to curl in his hood, didn't even look at Leroy. He casually turned to Luna instead.

"Could I get a java mocha latte?" he asked, grinning. "Extra whipped cream, of course."

Luna blinked. "You're asking for what now?"

Emilio gave a winning smile. "You know, the usual. Like back in the old coffee bar at the welfare center. You made it then. Don't tell me you've gone too posh now."

Luna snorted. "First, we don't serve that sugar bomb here. Second, maybe I would've humored you if we were still at that run-down center with a broken espresso machine and expired whipped cream."

Emilio gasped mockingly. "Hey! Those drinks saved lives—my sanity, for one."

"Maybe," Luna quipped as she grabbed the rice crackers from under the counter for Madam Mu, "but you were also twelve and thought strawberry syrup made everything taste better."

Madam Mu chuckled with delight from her corner, clearly loving the banter.

Leroy, still standing nearby, slid into the stool in front of Luna, interrupting the moment with a quiet intensity.

"What exactly is your relationship with him?" he asked, eyes never leaving hers.

Luna looked at him blankly for a moment. Then blinked. "Same as with you."

That earned a beat of silence.

A cold, unreadable smile crept onto Leroy's lips, his fingers curling around his cup.

Across the room, Emilio's own smile widened, amused, and perhaps, just a little pleased.

Ken, hovering nearby with a tray of refill teas, frowned so hard his brows looked ready to fuse. He looked between the two men like a man who'd just realized he was in the middle of a chess match he didn't know he was playing.

"I feel like," Ken muttered under his breath to Madam Mu, "there's some kind of… silent war happening."

"Oh, child," Madam Mu said between bites, "this isn't war. This is courtship in slow motion."

Luna, catching just a bit of that, rolled her eyes skyward. "Can I just have one shift without drama?" she asked no one in particular.

"No way, Don't you dare take away my amusement!" Madam Mu answered