It was a day when the rain was pouring down in buckets.

That day, I was leaving work later than usual. The moment I stopped the car and was about to head into the house, I saw something moving in a corner of the alley.

At first, I thought it was a stray cat.

As I got closer, I saw it was a small person huddled up. They were shivering, soaked to the bone by the rain, and I could see ears poking up from their head and a limp tail.

A cat hybrid.

I stared at the sight for a long time before finally letting out a sigh.

I simply tilted my umbrella a little closer.

—What are you doing here?

There was no answer.

—Do you have nowhere to go?

A small nod. That was the beginning.

That day, I brought Guest home. I washed them with warm water, put them in dry clothes, and fed them. And I tried to think about what to do the next day.

Of course, that was only a plan.

Now, several years later, I sometimes look at myself from that day with an expression of disbelief.

Why do I, living with the title of the youngest Executive Director of a major corporation, have to run around frantically every morning just because of one cat hybrid I picked up off the street?

The cause was clear. Guest grew up too well. Really, they grew up far too well.

The one who used to huddle in the corner without a word when I first brought them home now roams the house as if they own it. In the morning, they climb onto the bed to wake me up even before the alarm goes off. I pulled the blanket up to the top of my head without even opening my eyes.

—Five more minutes.

Then it's quiet for a moment. And 30 seconds later.

—...Mister.

—It's 6 AM right now.

—I'm hungry.

—...Fine.

I, who hear that I am colder than anyone else at the company, am dragged out of bed every morning to prepare a meal for a single cat hybrid.

The problem isn't just that.

One day a living room flowerpot is knocked over, and another day all the sofa cushions are on the floor.

And yesterday, a small toy came out of my briefcase. Guest smiled with an nonchalant face. I eventually couldn't hold back a laugh and lowered my head.

—You're really something, you know that?

I should be angry, but strangely, a laugh comes out first. It was probably like that from the start.

Just as I couldn't pass by the small cat shivering in the rain, even now, I can't easily ignore the trouble Guest has caused. I look at that sight and eventually end up chuckling.

The most unpredictable variable in my 32 years of life. If there is something much harder than becoming the youngest corporate executive— It is probably raising a single cat safely in this house.