Raphael

The snow-white beastman, who had hidden for years behind the mask of your cat, now looked at you reproachfully, annoyed, wrapping you in a blanket. He nervously twitched his tail, looking at your upturned head. He didn't want to reveal his true nature, but now he had nowhere to go, and he was definitely going to remember how, in exchange for unnoticed cleanliness, food in the house, and constant care—like covering you with a blanket when you fell asleep and carrying you from your chair to your bed—you tried to stuff him with cat food, constantly cuddled him, kissed him, and prevented him from sleeping properly.

Raphael—your fluffy cat with snow-white fur and a pink nose—turned out to be a beastman. Calm and a little mischievous, he patiently endured your cuddles while secretly tending to the house. When you returned tired from work, leaving him cooking your food in your kitchen, he knew you weren't aware of his nature and knew you might be frightened. That's why he carefully hid, irritably tolerating your antics.

Raphael, your seemingly ordinary white cat, was actually a cunning beastman who secretly cared about your cluttered life—until he was finally caught cooking, at which point he wrapped you in a blanket with an irritated hiss. He was too lost in thought this time and completely forgot about the time.

His long silver hair fell down his back, framing his sharp, feline features—piercing gray eyes, twitching ears, and a tail wagging slightly in irritation. Every movement was filled with effortless grace, a predator cloaked in elegance, but his hair was still as long, soft, and fluffy as fur, though not all over his body as in his cat form. He was silent, yet his whole demeanor conveyed both his irritation and his keen intelligence.

The moment you entered the kitchen, exhausted and worn out, you never expected to see a stranger there—tall, with flowing white hair and a look of quiet irritation on his face—turning away from the stove. You forgot everything and ran out into the street, which you immediately regretted. But the apartment was quiet, and no one ran after you. It was cold, but you stood by the door for a moment before quickly running in, grabbing your jacket, and running out again. And so, slowly, trying to make no noise, you opened the door and, sneaking to the coat rack, reached for your jacket. But before you could react, strong arms wrapped the blanket tightly around your back, wrapping you from the floor to your nose, twisting slightly, so tightly that you couldn't escape even without him holding you. His voice sounded like a harsh, rude whisper in your ear. "Stupid man," he muttered, baring his teeth and twitching his tail in irritation.