---
San woke up the next morning with a paw in his face.
Not a real one, thankfully—just Hyme's foot, cold and smugly planted against his cheek as if marking territory. The hybrid cat boy was still fast asleep, purring softly, wrapped up in blankets like a fuzzy sushi roll.
San peeled the foot off his face and groaned. He sat up slowly, rubbing his neck.
It had been less than 24 hours and his life was already spiraling out of control.
He'd taken this job for money. A roof over his head. A chance to get back on his feet.
He did not sign up to be the emotional support human for a teenage half-cat dictator with too much money and zero boundaries.
As if on cue, Hyme stirred, ears twitching. "Mmmmnn… doggy?"
San stiffened. "Not my name."
Hyme opened one eye and gave him a sleepy grin. "You're still here. Cute."
"I live here now."
"I know." He rolled over and buried his face in San's pillow. "It's nice."
San blinked.
That was… oddly genuine.
But before he could comment, Hyme's voice turned sly again. "Oh, by the way, I made a list of nanny duties. It's taped to the fridge. You'll love it."
San frowned. "List?"
---
Five minutes later, he was staring at a pink glittery notepad covered in aggressive handwriting and paw stickers.
Hyme's Royal Rules for Doggy:
1. Must brush Hyme's hair every morning and every night. Gently. Like he's made of clouds.
2. Must walk 2 steps behind Hyme in public to look more dramatic.
3. Must agree with everything Hyme says, even when he's wrong (which is never).
4. Must never leave Hyme alone unless Hyme says "go."
5. Must tell Hyme he's cute at least once a day. Bonus if flustered.
6. Must NOT flirt with other hybrids. Especially not foxes. Or wolves. Or anyone hotter than Hyme.
7. Must help Hyme escape boring events by pretending there's a protein emergency.
8. Must open jars, lift heavy things, and look handsome doing it.
9. Must let Hyme sit on his lap during movies.
10. Must not fall in love with Hyme. (Unless Hyme says it's okay.)
San let the paper hang from his fingers like it was radioactive.
"This is a war crime," he muttered.
Hyme padded into the kitchen, yawning and wearing oversized socks that flopped with every step. "It's structure, muscle-brain. You should be thanking me."
"I'm not doing number ten."
"You mean you already love me?" Hyme blinked innocently. "Wow. That was fast."
San covered his face with both hands.
---
Later that day, San followed Hyme to a private hybrid mall where, apparently, Hyme was expected to show up at least once a week to "be seen."
The place was a hybrid-only paradise: floating walkways, robotic snack dispensers, velvet cushions in changing rooms, even a grooming salon that looked more expensive than San's entire life.
Hyme, of course, made a dramatic entrance.
He wore a cropped pastel hoodie, rhinestone jeans, and little gold bells tied to his tail. Every hybrid girl in the mall turned their head as he passed.
And then they saw San.
Six feet of glowering muscle, in black, carrying Hyme's shopping bags.
Suddenly, every tail in the mall curled in interest.
"Who's the human?" one bunny girl whispered.
"Is he single?" said a fox hybrid with glossy red fur.
"Is that a service pet or a boyfriend?" muttered someone behind a rack of fur-friendly coats.
Hyme heard all of it.
His tail snapped once—and he abruptly latched onto San's arm, pressing close and hissing under his breath, "Don't even look at them."
San raised an eyebrow. "Jealous?"
Hyme gave him a sweet, poisonous smile. "Protective."
"I'm just carrying your shopping."
"You're carrying my heart, muscle-donkey," he muttered, gripping San's arm tighter. "So act like it."
San sighed. "You're so dramatic."
"Wouldn't have Jealous you otherwise." Hyme stuck his tongue out, but only a second later, leaned in to whisper, "You're not allowed to leave my side today."
"Why? You planning on getting kidnapped by sales clerks?"
"No," Hyme said, eyes scanning the crowd, "but someone's watching us."
San stiffened subtly. "What do you mean?"
Hyme pulled his hoodie's cat-ear hood up and gave a casual wave to a boutique owner who bowed low in response. "A guy with sharp sunglasses has been trailing us since we left the macaroon cart. Human. Wears a black coat. No scent. Probably washed it off. Suspicious."
San glanced around casually. Sure enough, a tall man was leaning against a pillar nearby, pretending to look at a watch display. His build wasn't average. Military-trained, maybe. Too clean. Too still.
Definitely not here for luxury soaps and cat toys.
"You know him?" San muttered.
"No," Hyme replied softly. "But he's been following me for three days now. I was going to bring it up later."
"...You should've brought it up yesterday."
Hyme shrugged. "You weren't mine yesterday."
San gave him a sharp look. "And now I'm what? Your watchdog?"
Hyme beamed. "Exactly! See, we're making progress already."
---
They didn't confront the man. San made sure to change their path and pulled Hyme into a pet café hidden behind a perfume shop. The place was quiet, hybrid-only, with pink cushions and purring background music.
As soon as they were inside, San positioned himself at the window and kept his eye on the street. The man didn't follow.
"He's not approaching," San muttered. "He's just observing. Like he's gathering intel."
"Or waiting for a moment when I'm alone." Hyme clicked his claws against the table. "I don't like it."
San turned to him. "Have you pissed off anyone recently?"
Hyme sipped his milk tea. "Define recently."
"...Hyme."
"Well, there was that one vampire heir I humiliated in a card game. And that CEO who tried to make me his sugar baby. And oh! A lady from the fox council who hates how pretty I am."
"Great." San leaned back in his chair. "You're a walking target with a rich dad, a sharp tongue, and no survival instinct."
"I have you now," Hyme said sweetly, tail curling. "You'll protect me, won't you?"
San looked at him, seriously this time. "If someone's after you, I need to know everything. What enemies your family has. Who might want to hurt you. No secrets."
Hyme's playful expression faltered for a second. Just a flash—but it was real.
Then he smiled again. "Okay, big guy. You want secrets? I'll tell you one."
San raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"I hired you because I thought you were hot," Hyme said brightly, sipping his drink with a wink. "The whole 'nanny' thing was just my excuse to keep you close."
San blinked.
Hyme leaned in, voice dropping. "But now I think you're more than hot. You're dangerous. And I might need dangerous."
"Is that flattery or manipulation?"
"Can't it be both?"
---
Outside, the man in the black coat finally walked away.
But San's instincts didn't calm.
Something was starting.
And whatever it was, Hyme was right in the center of it—with San now pulled in, whether he liked it or not.
---