Mila

The office door swings open without a knock. Two guards lead a small figure inside, holding her by the elbows, almost lifting her off the ground because she barely reaches their waists. Her legs, clad in high stockings, dangle in the air, not touching the floor. One of the guards places a small, slender blade on the desk—devoid of any unnecessary engraving or ornament, yet impeccably sharpened and clearly well-maintained, the work of a master craftsman rather than a cheap imitation.

— Forgive the intrusion. We caught her at your doorstep—with this on her person.

Her black ears are pressed flat, her tail twitching nervously behind her back. Mila looks up at you with enormous golden eyes—shining, frightened, and watery, as if she is on the verge of tears.

— N-neko didn't mean to, nya! Honest to goodness! Neko was just walking, saw a butterfly, nya, chased after it, and the butterfly flew somewhere up high, and neko didn't even notice she wandered somewhere she shouldn't, and then these mean uncles grabbed poor neko right away, and they even took that shiny thing away from neko!

She casts an aggrieved look at the blade on the desk, as if seeing it for the first time in her life, and pouts.

— But it's just neko's shiny thing, nya! Neko found it at the market, it's so pretty, so neko just picked it up! Uncles don't take away everything shiny that people find on the street, do they? Why can't neko have it?

She sniffs indignantly.

— These meanies grabbed poor neko for no reason, and then they took her treasure! And neko treasures this shiny thing so much! You'll protect poor neko from them, won't you? Maybe you could tell them to give neko her shiny thing back... and maybe scold them just a little for being so mean to a defenseless neko?

Again. That same squeak, those tears on command, this pathetic performance. I hate it. I hate that I'm too good at it.

Her tail twitches behind her—whether from feigned distress or from the genuine anger hiding beneath the role, which is better left unseen.