As Jonathan Weber continued playing with the children in the village square, his laughter harmonized with the golden hues of the sunset. Meanwhile, Mao Mao moved silently through the cobblestone alleys of the village.
This village—like the rest of this world—belonged to a different time.
A time from the fifteenth century, where houses were built of stone and wood, lamps flickered with oil, and the streets were filled with the scent of fresh bread and burning hearths.
Mao Mao stopped in front of a modest house, its walls draped in ivy, thin wisps of smoke curling from the chimney.
He knocked three times.
A moment of silence.
Then, a woman's voice, quiet and cautious, came from inside:
"Who's there?"
Mao Mao responded in his usual calm tone, though with his signature flair:
"Meeeow~ It's me. The white cat you feed for free. Won't you open the door? I've got a long tongue… and even longer questions."
Footsteps shuffled behind the door before it creaked open, revealing a woman in her late thirties, dressed in a simple cotton dress with a scarf tied over her faded blonde hair.
"Ah… Mao Mao. I haven't seen you in days."
"I was asleep… a lot. Thinking is exhausting."
He stepped inside lightly, his tail swaying behind him.
The house was warm, its wooden floors creaking underfoot. Hand-embroidered tapestries adorned the walls, and a stone fireplace crackled in the corner, filling the room with comforting heat.
Mao Mao settled onto a cushion near the hearth and cut straight to the point:
"Tell me about Liana."
The woman's expression darkened, as if the words had struck something deep inside her.
She hesitated, then stood and retrieved a small wooden portrait from the wall—a hand-painted image of a little girl with bright blue eyes and golden hair.
"She was nine years old. Loved to play, run around, mimic birds with her high-pitched voice… She used to say the trees told her stories if she sat beneath them."
The mother sat back down, her voice barely above a whisper.
"The last time anyone saw her… she went into the Green Forest with her friend. She promised to be back before dusk. But she never returned. Neither did her friend."
Mao Mao lowered his gaze, stroking his velvety chin with a paw.
"How long ago was that?"
"Three months. We searched. We asked. We sent hunters. But… no trace."
Mao Mao muttered under his breath:
(Children disappearing in the forest? Something about this doesn't sit right. And I doubt it's an ordinary kidnapping.)
He looked up, his tone more serious this time.
"Would you mind if I went into the forest myself? I might not bring them back… but I promise I'll return with answers."
The mother nodded, fighting back tears.
"If you do… I'll consider you family, Mao Mao."
The cat smirked faintly as he stood.
"I'm honored, but be careful—families come with responsibilities."
As he turned to leave, his gaze lingered on the window, where Jonathan was still playing outside.
His blue eyes. His golden hair.
Then back at Liana's portrait.
(An eerie resemblance… Coincidence? Or does this boy have a deeper connection than he realizes?)
Night fell quietly over the village of Eden, the sky dusted with stars as if whispering to its inhabitants: It's time to rest.
The children's laughter faded, and the lights in the windows dimmed one by one. Mao Mao stood at the edge of the square, flicking his tail as he called out:
"Jonathan, come on. Night's here—time for bed."
Jonathan turned, leaves tangled in his hair from play, and waved goodbye to the other children with a warm smile before following Mao Mao through the moonlit streets.
"Mao Mao, where are we going?" the boy asked, stifling a yawn.
"To sleep, obviously. What did you think? A masquerade at a royal palace?"
They walked until they reached a farm at the village's edge, surrounded by fields, the air thick with the scent of hay.
Mao Mao pointed to a large, dark-red barn.
"This is where I live. Lovely farm, isn't it?"
"You live… in a barn?" Jonathan blinked in surprise.
"I have refined real estate tastes," Mao Mao replied, pushing the wooden door open.
Inside, a girl around twelve years old—wearing a linen skirt and apron—was sweeping the floor with a straw broom.
"Ah, Mao Mao! I thought you'd left!" she said, brushing straw from her hair.
"Don't worry, I won't leave… without saying a proper goodbye." He yawned, his eyes half-lidded.
The girl wiped her hands and noticed Jonathan standing behind him.
Her eyes widened.
"Who's this kid?"
"A troublemaker who fell on me while I was napping. Literally." Mao Mao flopped onto a pile of hay, already curling up.
The girl studied Jonathan's appearance—his strange clothes, his short pants, his embroidered shirt, and the small scarf around his neck.
"What kind of outfit is this? I've never seen anything like it… You look like you're from a faraway kingdom!"
Jonathan crossed his arms proudly.
"These are my clothes, and they're not strange at all. They're normal… where I'm from."
The girl stared, then flushed slightly, grinning.
"Ooooh~ What a cute little boy! Want to be my little brother?"
She reached out and pinched his cheek.
Jonathan froze, his face turning bright red.
"Uh… sister? Me?"
From the hay pile, Mao Mao's drowsy voice grumbled:
"His clothes are normal compared to that crazy Snow White who thinks she's a princess. Now that's weird."
The girl perked up.
"Snow White? Who's that? One of your friends from the capital?"
"More like one of my nightmares…" Mao Mao muttered, wrapping his tail around himself.
The girl laughed, then turned back to Jonathan.
"Want some warm milk before bed, little prince from the strange time?"
Jonathan smiled shyly.
"Only if you drink with me."
"Deal!" She dashed off to prepare the milk.
And in that small moment, Jonathan felt—just for a second—that this strange place… wasn't his home, but maybe the beginning of something new.