Chapter 9

[20XX July 1]

After I preserved and restored a small portion of the original black fur color within the designated area, the shelter provider seemed to accept the explanation of “shedding.”

He did not suspect my identity—this is good. But I must correct my recent behavioral patterns.

I have been somewhat overly concerned with the shelter provider’s level of acceptance toward me.

Despite knowing the risk of exposure, I prioritized altering my appearance in ways that did not conform to mimetic physiological traits, catering to the shelter provider’s aesthetic preferences—this irrational behavior severely violates the survival principles of a Starfarer.

Meeting the shelter provider’s needs should only serve as a means to ensure I can remain safely in the nest without exposing my identity. Yet, what I’ve done these past few days is risk exposure just to satisfy his preferences. Such an absurd reversal of priorities—I haven’t yet pinpointed where it began, but I can’t continue like this.

No further major changes should be made to my mimetic appearance, physiological habits, behavioral patterns, or other obvious external traits. To secure the shelter provider’s continued shelter, I must explore deeper aspects.

With the Universal Translator Module activated, I can now effortlessly read the dialectal texts of the dominant species across regions. After inputting keywords and conducting a search, I quickly found the information I needed:

The dominant species of this planet possesses an extremely complex emotional framework. Rather than mutual honesty, they prefer masking their negative emotions—concealing, but not erasing them. The dominant species cannot shield themselves from emotional influences; they require completely trustworthy outlets for emotional release. These outlets can come from their own species or from companion species. The species I am mimicking is one such companion species. The dominant species believes these creatures possess sufficient intelligence to respond to their owners’ emotional fluctuations and actively provide companionship or comfort tailored to their moods.

This information points me toward my next course of action: by fulfilling the shelter provider’s emotional needs, I can establish a deep emotional bond with him, ensuring my safe stay without exposing myself.

With Telepathy, I can easily grasp the shelter provider’s emotional shifts. The difficulty lies in correctly responding to them.

I’ve decided to start with the most fundamental step.

—I will no longer regard the shelter provider merely as a provider of shelter and food but as an intelligent lifeform of equal standing.

Starting today, I will use his name in my logs: Dan Ning.

[20XX July 2]

Though he has stopped questioning the changes in my mimetic appearance, Dan Ning did not cancel his meeting with Brother Zhao.

I was taken to the pet hospital again for a thorough physical examination, and the result was, unsurprisingly, “perfectly normal.”

After receiving the results, Dan Ning visibly relaxed. “Good that there’s no problem.”

“You really treasure this cat, huh?” Brother Zhao removed his gloves, his tone light. “You’ve always wanted a cat—now you’ve got your wish?”

“Yeah.” Dan Ning smiled as well, holding me in his arms. “Before, whenever I found a cat, I had to trouble you to find someone to adopt it. Now I can finally keep one myself.”

“That old roommate of yours—honestly, I don’t know how you put up with him for so long—oh, right!” Brother Zhao suddenly remembered something and brought up a new topic. “That ex-roommate of yours—I saw him outside the hospital a couple of days ago. Did he have something to discuss with you?”

“No, nothing.”

“Good. That guy gave me weird vibes.”

“Ah, Brother Zhao, you must be busy. I’ll take Chocolate home now.”

Dan Ning carried me out of the hospital, his mood noticeably dampened.

The opportunity to practice my role as a companion species came so swiftly that I was almost delighted as I began interpreting his current thoughts—

“Leave this place. Don’t run into him again!”

This brief thought cycled rapidly and incessantly in his mind. Even after we returned to the isolated nest, the perplexing loop did not stop.

Due to energy constraints, I cannot access his past memories. Based on the conversation preceding his emotional shift, I can only speculate that this is related to the “ex-roommate” Brother Zhao mentioned.

Could that ex-roommate be the dominant species male individual I saw outside the pet hospital over a month ago?

Very likely.

Though I couldn’t interpret the dominant species’ emotions at the time, Dan Ning’s avoidance behavior today mirrored that encounter.

What transpired between them is not within my scope of concern. What I need to consider now is how to respond to Dan Ning’s negative emotions.

He remained subdued and silent, his thoughts suspended in a vacant state. He even forgot to set me down, sitting motionless on the sofa.

I could have broken free from his embrace, but struggling—an act of resistance—would have clearly contradicted the “comforting” impression I aimed to convey. What about verbal reassurance? The feeble vocalizations of my mimetic species seem well-liked by many of the dominant species.

At the very least, it couldn’t make things worse, could it?

I tentatively vocalized: “Meow~ Mew~”

Dan Ning blinked, snapping out of his daze. “What’s wrong? Hungry?” he asked, gently scratching my chin, his expression as mild as ever.

But the emotional assessment from Telepathy remained below standard levels.

I decided to press further.

Licking was one of the mimetic species’ methods of expressing affection and comfort. I’ve used it before to convey gratitude, with favorable results.

Now, I stood up on his lap, tilting my head to nuzzle his chin. Dan Ning looked down at me, and I took the opportunity to lick his lower lip twice.

Dan Ning seemed surprised but soon smiled.

“Are you worried about me?”

Emotional assessment rose to normal levels.

Test subject’s emotional needs have been met.

First attempt: successful.