Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

At 10:00 AM, a long Lexus sedan drove along the winding mountain road and came to a smooth stop in front of the official residence. The driver was a refined man in his fifties, dressed in a crisp uniform and wearing white gloves. After getting out of the car, he first bowed slightly to Hiroshi Kimura before walking to the back door.

Hiroshi Kimura held his breath.

The car door opened, and two Siamese cats jumped out.

A slightly larger cat, with typical Siamese point fur—dark brown on its face, ears, limbs, and tail, and cream on its body—jumped off the car and gracefully sat on the cobblestones. Its almond-shaped blue eyes surveyed its surroundings with an arrogant expression, as if inspecting its new territory.

The other one was slightly smaller, with lighter fur, and a hint of timidity in its eyes. It jumped off the car right after its sister, but tripped and stumbled a few steps before regaining its balance. It then looked around in a panic before finally hiding behind its sister.

The two cats, one still and one active, one proud and one timid, formed a stark contrast.

The driver walked up to Kimura Hiroshi, smiled, and extended his hand: "You must be Mr. Kimura Hiroshi? I'm the driver who brought this distinguished guest here. Mr. ENXI is still in school and doesn't have time to move in yet, so I'm leaving the cat here to look after the house. Please take care of feeding the cat; the cat food and supplies are in the trunk."

Hiroshi Kimura was stunned. He mechanically shook hands with the driver, but his gaze couldn't leave the two cats. In his more than 30 years of professional career, he had served countless celebrities and dignitaries and handled all sorts of bizarre requests, but this was the first time he had greeted two cats on behalf of their owner.

“I understand,” Kimura Hiroshi said, trying to maintain his professional demeanor. “I will take good care of them.”

The driver opened the trunk, revealing two full boxes of imported cat food, various cat toys, two elegant litter boxes, and several books on Siamese cat care. On top was a manila folder, which the driver handed to Kimura Hiroshi.

“These are the cats’ profiles,” the driver said. “They contain their habits, preferences, and health records. Mr. ENXI specifically requested that you take care of them according to the requirements listed above.”

Hiroshi Kimura opened the folder. The first page contained basic information about the two cats:

sister

Breed: Siamese cat hybrid

Age: 3 years old

Personality: Intelligent, independent, proud, possessive

Likes: High places, warm places, canned tuna

Taboos: Being forced to be hugged, noisy environments

Little brother

Breed: Siamese cat hybrid

Age: 3 years old

Personality: Timid, docile, loyal, and somewhat clumsy

Likes: following her older sister, cardboard boxes, and balls of yarn.

Taboos: Strangers, sudden noises

Turning to the back, Hiroshi Kimura was stunned. The resume included a pedigree analysis report, genetic testing results, annual physical examination records, and even a behavioral psychology assessment. The medical records for the two cats were astonishingly detailed: two comprehensive physical examinations per year, monthly deworming, quarterly dental cleanings, all vaccinations on schedule, and food specially formulated by a veterinary nutritionist.

These are not two ordinary cats; they are two cats that have been carefully cared for.

“They are very pampered,” Kimura Hiroshi murmured.

“It’s more than just pampering,” the driver said in a low voice. “They were brought to Japan on a private plane with a special pet cabin and a veterinarian on board. When I picked them up at the airport, the airline executive personally handed the cats to me and repeatedly told me to be careful. Honestly, I’ve never seen such pampered pets in my life.”

Hiroshi Kimura looked at the cat siblings with mixed feelings.

Chapter 456 ENXI

“May I ask?” Kimura Hiroshi turned to the driver, “Have you met Mr. ENXI?”

The driver shook his head: "No. I was just hired by an agency to safely transport the cat from the airport to here. As for the owner's identity, appearance, age... I know nothing. The agency only said that the employer paid ten times the market price and demanded absolute confidentiality and absolute safety."

Hiroshi Kimura nodded and asked no further questions. Having worked in the service industry for many years, he knew that some wealthy individuals had a strong need for privacy. However, this level of secrecy was something he had never encountered before.

The driver helped carry the cat supplies into the official residence, and then, at Kimura Hiroshi's invitation, they had a cup of sencha (a type of Japanese tea) in the tea room. The two knelt on the tatami mats, with the azure Sagami Bay visible outside the window, and the cries of seagulls faintly audible.

“To be honest,” the driver took a sip of tea, “when I received this assignment, I thought I misheard. Deliver two cats to a historical building? But the documents sent by the agency included a detailed description of the Black Stone Mansion and your resume. They said you are one of the best butlers in Japan, and the owners feel very reassured entrusting the cats to you.”

Hiroshi Kimura smiled wryly: "But my job now is feeding cats."

"What matters is not what you do, but for whom you do it," the driver said meaningfully. "In the owner's eyes, these two cats are probably the most precious things in the world. And the fact that he entrusted such precious things to you shows his trust in you, doesn't it?"

Hiroshi Kimura fell silent. He looked towards the tea room door, where two cats were exploring their enormous new home.

The older sister walked gracefully and unhurriedly through the corridor, occasionally pausing to sniff the pillars or touch the paper windows on the sliding doors with her paws. The younger brother followed closely behind, stopping as soon as his sister did, his ears perked up nervously, as if on guard against potential danger.

“They have their own way of getting along,” the driver said, looking at the cat. “Just like the owner said, pets reflect the owner’s personality. Maybe by observing the cat, you can understand what kind of person the owner is.”

“But these two cats have completely opposite personalities,” Hiroshi Kimura said. “One is proud and independent, the other is timid and docile. If they reflect their owner’s personality, wouldn’t the owner be schizophrenic?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kimura Hiroshi regretted them. Discussing one's master's faults was a major taboo for a butler. But the driver didn't reprimand him; instead, he smiled.

“I’ve thought that too,” the driver said in a low voice, “but then again, someone who can buy Blackrock Mansion but only use it to keep cats is rather unusual, isn’t he?”

The two looked at each other and smiled, a smile that contained both understanding and helplessness.

After finishing his tea, the driver rose to take his leave. Kimura Hiroshi escorted him to the entrance of the official residence, watching the Lexus disappear into the winding mountain road. When he turned back to the courtyard, he found that the two cats had already chosen their territory.

The main building of the official residence has a huge fireplace area on the first floor. This design is a remnant of the Edo period. The stone fireplace occupies an entire wall, and a soft sheepskin carpet is laid in front of it.

At that moment, the younger brother was dragging an empty cardboard box out of the storage room. I don't know how he found it, but he also dragged over a few cotton pads and clumsily stuffed them into the box. He was working very hard, occasionally tripping over the edge of the box, rolling over and getting up to continue.

The older sister perched gracefully on the crossbeam above the fireplace, the highest point in the room. She looked down at her brother's busy figure, occasionally licking her paws, occasionally yawning, a hint of "this idiot" flashing in her blue eyes.

Hiroshi Kimura walked to the fireplace, looked at the makeshift cat house his younger brother had built, and couldn't help but say, "We can buy a better cat house, one with cushions, toys, and a climbing frame."

As soon as he spoke, he realized that cats don't understand human speech. But strangely, the younger brother did understand. It looked up at Kimura Hiroshi, then shook its head firmly—literally, shook its head—and continued fiddling with its cardboard box.

Hiroshi Kimura was stunned. For the first time in his more than 30 years in the industry, he began to doubt his own understanding.

That evening, while preparing cat food in the kitchen, Kimura Hiroshi suddenly understood the meaning behind the driver's words.

“They already have a cattery,” he muttered to himself, looking at the empty kitchen. “A cattery worth a hundred million dollars, called Blackstone Mansion.”

Ten years have passed.

Hiroshi Kimura carried a white lantern as he walked through the long corridors of the Black Stone Mansion. The lantern's light carved out a small, warm patch in the darkness, illuminating the ancient wooden floor beneath his feet and the marks of time on the walls.

For the past decade, the Black Stone Residence has remained virtually unchanged. A historical building restoration company regularly sends staff from Tokyo to maintain it. Every spring, the old tatami mats are replaced. In summer, the ancient cherry and maple trees in the courtyard are pruned. In autumn, the roof tiles are inspected and leaks are repaired. In winter, the entire building is insulated against the cold.

The company signed a ten-year contract with ENXI, with the fees prepaid, and the work proceeded as planned.

There's also a dedicated pet care team that comes quarterly to give the two cats checkups, groom them, and trim their nails. They're paid to do the work and have never seen the owners. Each time they come, they bring a detailed care report for Kimura Hiroshi to sign before taking it away.

“Mr. ENXI is very concerned about the cat’s health,” the team leader told Hiroshi Kimura. “He reads every report and occasionally sends emails to inquire about details.”

"You communicate with him via email?" Kimura Hiroshi asked.

“It’s just work emails, never involving personal content,” the person in charge shook his head, “and the email address is a string of random characters, obviously not a commonly used email address.”

Ten years have passed, and Hiroshi Kimura still knows nothing about his master.

All he knew was that the owner required the hot spring pool to be filled with water every morning and evening, and the temperature to be kept at 42 degrees Celsius, which was the optimal temperature for soaking in the hot spring.

For ten years, rain or shine, summer or winter, Kimura Hiroshi would get up at five in the morning, first checking the cleanliness of the hot spring pool, then turning on the tap and watching the steaming water slowly fill the stone pool. At nine o'clock in the evening, he would drain the water again, leaving a fresh pool to await its potential owner.

But the pool water always cools down slowly, from wisps of steam to still ripples, and finally cools to a mirror-like state under the moonlight. Kimura Hiroshi would drain the water at midnight, clean the pool walls, and prepare for the next day's circulation.

Waiting became his daily routine.

Over the past decade, Hiroshi Kimura has transformed from a dashing, handsome middle-aged man into a frail old man. His hair has turned completely white, his back is slightly hunched, and he needs to hold onto a wall when he walks. The sharpness and confidence in his eyes when he was young have now been replaced by a gentle patience.

Sometimes he would joke to himself: when he was young, he dreamed of becoming Japan's best butler, serving the most distinguished guests, but the last part of his career turned out to be a cat servant in an empty official residence. Life is truly unpredictable.

But more often than not, he felt a strange peace. Blackrock Mansion had a kind of magic that could slow down time.

Ten years have passed, and the building itself remains almost unchanged. The black basalt remains cold and hard, the cypress beams and pillars still exude a fresh fragrance, and the washi paper on the sliding doors still shines with a soft light. The cherry blossoms in the courtyard bloom precisely every spring, and the maple leaves turn the hillside red every autumn, in an endless cycle, as if this official residence exists in its own independent flow of time.

Even the cats haven't gotten old.

The older sister and younger brother should be thirteen years old this year, which is quite old for cats. But they look almost the same as when they were three: their fur is still smooth, their eyes are still clear, and their movements are still agile.

Every spring after their molt, they remain snow-white like kittens for a few weeks, gradually turning back to their adult pointed coloration after a month. The older sister continues to bully her younger brother day after day, chasing him all over the house. The younger brother willingly endures this bullying, building a nest for his sister, giving up the warmest spot, and vigilantly guarding her side while she naps.

Only Hiroshi Kimura is getting old.

Chapter 457 The Master Has Arrived

Sometimes, Kimura Hiroshi would stand by the hot spring pool, gazing at his reflection. The old man's face in the water was etched with wrinkles, his eyes filled with weariness, yet also with a profound tranquility. He thought, perhaps this was why the Black Stone Mansion had chosen him—not because of his exceptional talent, but because he possessed the patience to accompany the building through its long wait.

"Who are you waiting for?" Kimura Hiroshi asked the empty official residence.

Of course, no one answered. Only the sound of the sea breeze passing through the corridors, like an ancient sigh.

Tonight, Kimura Hiroshi carried a lantern to the edge of the hot spring pool. The pool was full, and steam rose under the moonlight, blending with the thin mist over the sea. In the distance, Sagami Bay was tranquil, with fishing lights dotting the surface like scattered stars.

Two cats followed behind him. The older sister jumped onto the stone railing by the pool, sat down, and curled her tail gracefully in front of her. The younger brother lay down at Kimura Hiroshi's feet, purring contentedly.

Hiroshi Kimura sat down on a stone bench by the pool, a lantern beside him. He took a small tin box from his kimono sleeve, opened it, and inside were hand-rolled tobacco and cigarette paper. This was a habit he had developed in recent years: late at night, when all was quiet, he would roll a cigarette by the hot spring pool and smoke it while looking out at the sea.

The tobacco was locally grown in Izu, with a mild flavor and a grassy aroma. Kimura Hiroshi slowly rolled the tobacco, lit it, took a deep drag, and then slowly exhaled. The smoke blended into the steam of the hot spring and disappeared into the night sky.

"Sister, brother," he said to the cat, "do you still remember your owner?"

The older sister glanced at him, then continued gazing at the sea, as if to say: Such a foolish question isn't worth answering. The younger brother looked up at Kimura Hiroshi with his amber eyes and softly meowed.

Hiroshi Kimura smiled. Ten years had passed; he had long since learned to interpret the two cats' emotions. The older sister's silence meant, "Of course I remember, but I'm too lazy to tell you." The younger brother's meows, on the other hand, meant, "Yeah, I remember, so what?"

“I remember it too,” Kimura Hiroshi said to the sea, “though I’ve never seen it.”

He took another drag of his cigarette and continued talking to himself: "Ten years, Master. You bought this mansion, yet you never show your face. You paid for its maintenance for ten years, hired the best team to care for the cats, and demanded the hot springs be available at all times. You did all this, yet you never come to enjoy it. I don't understand."

The waves gently lapped against the rocks below the cliff, a constant, rhythmic sound, like the pulse of time.

“At first I thought you would come soon,” Kimura Hiroshi said, “maybe next month, maybe next year. I prepared myself every day, looking forward to seeing your car drive up the mountain road. A year passed, two years passed… I began to wonder if you had forgotten about this place. Or, if something had happened to you.”

The younger brother stood up, walked to Kimura Hiroshi's legs, and rubbed his head against his calf. It was a comforting gesture. Kimura Hiroshi reached out and stroked his younger brother's head; the cat's fur was soft and warm.

“But you haven’t forgotten that you renew the fees every year, check the cat’s health check reports every month, and occasionally inquire about the condition of the residence through the agency. Do you know that the 300-year-old cherry tree in the courtyard got sick last year? We hired a plant expert, and it took three months to save it. The agency said that you specifically instructed that we should save that tree no matter the cost.”

When the cigarette had burned out, Kimura Hiroshi stubbed it out in the ashtray next to the stone bench.

"So you care, you care about this mansion, you care about these two cats. Then why didn't you come?"

Suddenly, the older sister jumped down from the railing and landed lightly on the stone bench next to Kimura Hiroshi. She looked up at the old man, her blue eyes seemingly glowing in the moonlight. Then, she raised a front paw and gently placed it on the back of Kimura Hiroshi's hand.

In an instant, Kimura Hiroshi felt a warm current spread from the back of his hand throughout his body. It wasn't body temperature; a cat's paws are actually slightly cool. His sister was saying: "Don't ask why; waiting itself is meaningful."

Hiroshi Kimura was stunned. He looked down at the cat, then looked up at the official residence sleeping in the moonlight, and suddenly understood something.

Perhaps ENXI purchased the Blackstone Mansion not for its own benefit, but to preserve it. In this rapidly changing era, a two-hundred-year-old building is incredibly fragile, easily demolished, altered, or falling into the hands of those who do not appreciate it. ENXI bought it, ensuring its professional maintenance with a ten-year contract, bringing it to life with two cats, and allowing its spirit to endure with the care of an old butler.

This is not an investment, nor is it showing off; it is a form of protection. Like the scribes in medieval European monasteries who spent their lives copying the Bible, not for their own reading, but to pass on the flame of civilization to future generations.