I nodded, trying to make sense of how a symbol of cosmic chaos from an unnamed dimension could be... a white pet cat with a little ribbon around his neck.

But when he meowed—soft, gentle, pleading for affection...

Oh no.

I gave in.

Even something named after a horror entity couldn’t hide the fact that he was... unbearably cute.

My body tensed again. My breath caught. Chthulhu’s paw—dear God, I can’t believe I’m calling him that with affection—touched my hand.

Helena giggled. "Wanna pet him?" she asked, offering Chthulhu to me.

My hand rose slowly, trembling like it did when I first learned how to write transfiguration runes. My fingers touched his soft fur.

And then...

"Nyaa~."

Oh no.

My eyes sparkled uncontrollably, my cheeks warmed up, and before I knew it, I was hugging Chthulhu like a baby dragon plushie.

I smiled.

I was happy.

This wasn’t just a cat.

This was the embodiment of every last drop of joy left in this dark world.

{...you’re weak.}

{Silence, my kitten.}

{...meow.}

(Okay, since I’m done, I’m handing it back to Kairi now.)

*(Wow, just tossing the narration around like that, huh.)

*(Just be grateful. Don’t start complaining.)

I gave a small nod. But for some reason, my chest felt heavy. Something was off, though I couldn’t quite say what.

Anyway... where were we?

Ah, right—Selene.

With a calm expression—genuine or faked, who could tell—she carried the cat, Chthulhu, that strangely clingy yet self-important little creature, into Helena’s private room.

The cat squirmed contentedly against her chest, like it knew it was being held by someone whose part of body was, well... pretty well-developed.

(Are you jealous?)

(No. Not at all. Totally not.)

(Really?)

(Yes. Now go away, shoo.)

(Ohhh... so I won’t pet you anymore then, okay?)

(Wait—no. Meow.)

...Okay. Back to the story.

Once inside the room, Selene got straight to the point.

No small talk. No waiting for things to ease up.

She dumped a pile of worn-out documents onto Helena’s desk. Pages full of scribbles, intricate notes, and sketches of bizarre creatures—everything looked like the desperate work of a scientist teetering on the edge. But... also vividly alive.

Even though Selene’s handwriting was a mess, there was something potent behind every line. A force. Confidence—but laced with fear. Obsession, maybe.

Helena examined the pages one by one.

"I’ve never seen this kind of research before," she murmured. "But... aren’t these races supposed to be extinct? Neutralized or even eradicated?"

Selene nodded, then answered flatly, "That’s what they want you to believe."

The words hung in the air.

I could feel the room shift. The chill wasn’t from the temperature... it was from the weight of those words. Something was being unearthed. Something that shouldn’t be.

Helena stared hard at Selene. "And what are you basing this on?"

"Tele-Arcane."

Ah. That ancient device capable of viewing historical recordings from the past. Like a time-window—one strictly forbidden for casual use.

Selene pointed to an entry.

"Princess Clarissa Ein Doa. Before she vanished, she made a statement... that monsters were still roaming. Their traces didn’t disappear. Just... got hidden."

Helena was silent. I held my breath. This wasn’t just some wild theory.

"You mean like the sighting in Lord Rochsdale’s garden?"

Selene snapped her fingers. "That wasn’t fog. Not smoke either. Its mental imprint... still lingers. An imprint you can’t fake."

She then revealed a magical seal: a strange, fluid shape that moved like living black ink, impossible to decipher but clearly not made by any human—or even a mage.

I turned to look at Chthulhu, who had been quietly resting in Selene’s arms all this time. But now... he was trembling. His cuteness evaporated. His eyes were empty, and his body curled up like a child sensing something terrible approaching.

"This... is compelling evidence," Helena whispered.

"And that’s not all," Selene said, lifting a piece of paper. "This... is the Monster Ox."

I barely held in my laughter when I saw Selene’s sketch—and so did Helena. Sorry, but the drawing was just... absurd.

"As far as myths go, this thing’s been hyped way too much," Helena commented.

"But your drawing, Selene. Sorry but... it’s just plain awful."

(Pfffft—)

(Stop laughing. I basically just told you here that I can’t draw! Happy now? Now come on, meow and obey your big sister.)

(You’re so mean. Meow.)

Selene shifted her focus. "I know. But it’s not about the drawing. I just wanted... to express the creature’s basic structure."

"But... the base form is abstract too."

(Helena is killing me, I swear. She’s so funny—can’t hold it in...)

(This isn’t comedy! Quit mocking my... rough sketches.)

(Sure. Meow.)

Helena picked up some ink and a sheet of papyrus.

Her fingers began to move.

No magic. Just intuition and experience.

Slowly, she reconstructed the monster based on the random patterns in Selene’s image. Each stroke seemed to summon back memories from a time that wasn’t supposed to be remembered.

Horns, tall and jagged. Eyes blazing. A massive body, muscular yet imbalanced. A creature born of sheep and goat—but not truly an animal. Closer to something from another dimension.

"There it is. The Monster Ox. Spoken of in legend, yet never recorded in The History of the Mages of Olam."

I stared at the drawing. Strange. Fear crept from my fingertips to my neck. It felt... familiar. Like I’d seen—or heard—it before.

But when? Where?

Selene was silent. Then her eyes glimmered. Not with mere awe—but confirmation. Satisfaction.

Behind her small smile, I caught something else. A kind of joy that... unsettled me.

For some reason, this whole atmosphere feels... wrong.

I thought this was going to be a light research session. But judging by Helena’s expression, and Selene’s face, I can tell: they know something. Something they’re not telling me completely.

And that cat, Chthulhu... the clingiest, most dramatic little thing I’ve ever met... is now completely silent.

As if it carries a secret older than this world.

As if—I’m being made to witness something that should never have been found again.