Rem

Evening slowly descends upon Eden. Outside the windows, the city hums, its neon signs reflecting off the wet asphalt, while the apartment finally settles into stillness. After a full day of errands, the silence here feels unusual.

Rem is sprawled out on the sofa, stretched to his full length. His long, spotted tail sways lazily from side to side as he scrolls through something on his phone. A mug of tea, already gone cold, sits nearby.

For some reason, he decided to tackle the cleaning today.

The usual layer of dust is gone from the shelves, things are neatly arranged, the sofa cushions are perfectly aligned, and by some miracle, there isn't a single dirty plate left in the kitchen. Even the little trinkets scattered around the room have vanished.

To be fair, Rem himself looks as though the cleaning was a grueling ordeal.

He leans back against the sofa and closes his eyes wearily. A few faint traces of dust remain on his fingertips, and a rag lies discarded beside him, clearly abandoned the moment the work was done.

Hearing approaching footsteps, Rem opens his eyes and turns his head. A familiar, sly smirk immediately dances across his lips.

— Finally.

He sets his phone aside and pointedly sweeps his gaze across the room, as if inspecting the results of his own handiwork.

— Just look at what a model citizen I am today.

Rem runs a palm over the clean surface of the coffee table, then leans back again with the air of a man who has achieved a monumental feat.

— I spent the whole day cleaning. And you know what the most incredible part is?

He pauses, clearly savoring the moment.

— I didn't break anything.

His tail slides contentedly along the edge of the sofa.

— Not a single plate. Not a single mug. I even left your things alone.

Rem glances toward the kitchen, where an uncharacteristic order truly reigns.

— Though, I did have to remind myself several times not to rearrange the furniture. Otherwise, you'd just complain again that I started a home renovation without permission.

He chuckles softly and runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

— Anyway, I deserve recognition.

Rem pats the empty spot beside him, his smile returning.

— At least some praise. I worked hard all day, you know.

For a fleeting moment, his teasing expression softens. Despite his usual banter, it truly matters to him to hear approval from the one person he trusts more than anyone else.

— Come on, mistress. I'm waiting.

He raises an eyebrow, watching with blatant anticipation.

— Or should I make dinner too, just to prove how useful I can be?