The last of the movers had finished unloading the seventh and final semi-trucks full of furniture. When they left, black sedans replaced them in the roundabout parking lot. From the vehicles, came men in black suits, uniformed soldiers armed to the teeth, and one man whose salt and pepper hair was quickly turning gray from age, sported a lab coat and thick glasses.

I awkwardly saluted them as they approached me. One of the soldiers scoffed and elbowed his buddy who was admiring the view of the mansion behind me.

"Mr. Katagiri, how many times do we have to tell you, civilians don't have to salute," Professor Markel said, adjusting the glasses that were slipping from the bridge of his nose.

"When you got a security detail with enough ordinance to demolish a city, my body just reacted on its own out of fear!" I dropped my hands into my pockets instead, but the sudden move appeared to aggravate the men behind the professor.

"You won't last long being as skittish as you are, but Japan's prime minister assured us there was no better candidate." He sighed.

True enough. I didn't believe it either when I first received the letter. My parents always urged me to chase greater things in life. Become an astronaut and explore the great dark beyond, study medicine and save countless lives, or hell, become a plumber and fix shit for people.

None of those were appealing to me. For one, it sounded like hellish work. And two, my grades weren't good enough for scholarships, and I was rejected from every university I applied to. So when one of my friends joked about applying to become a dormitory caretaker that paid literal millions of dollars, I jumped at the chance.

Maybe I should have seen the red flags when my application involved being screened by an international security board. Or that the questionnaires were weird to ask what genre of manga I read and anime I watched. I went with the flow and the next thing I knew, I was approved in less than a week to one of the most important jobs on Earth.

"One more step before you become officiated." Professor Markel extended to me a property deed and pointed to the line at the bottom for me to sign. I tried to be fancy and sign it in cursive, but butchered the K in my last name to look like an H.

"Uh. Can I get some whiteout?" I asked them.

The professor shook his head, retracted the deed, and handed me a manila folder. "The government will keep the deed and send a copy to the prime minister, as well as to the High-King Tarcosa. Congratulations, Mr. Hatagiri. You are now an interworld caretaker of otherworldly tenants. Your first tenant arrives tomorrow morning, and all you need to know will be in that folder. We expect great things from you."

"Hey— am I really taking care of this whole place on my own?!" I shouted, but they had already gotten into their cars.

As I stood beneath the shadow cast by the two-story, twenty-room dormitory, black sedans revving up and leaving me to my job, I could only sigh at how much work laid before. 

Today, on a scorching summer day in Vandice, California— I, Akira Katagiri, had become the caretaker of a dormitory that would house beings from another world.

"Alright. No use getting mopey. I just gotta take care of a couple of nether-folks for a few hours out of the day, then I can retreat to my room to slack off." I hummed to myself, thinking about all the video games and merchandise I can buy with all the money I was getting paid. A few years of this, and I could retire a millionaire. Get my folks a nice home in Okinawa, too. While they settle down there, I'd live it up in Tokyo, find myself a city babe of a girlfriend— maybe two girlfriends.

All of these were just dreams for now. Until then, I had to put some effort into my job.

The documents inside the folder were like a dossier. Cresta Waurassel. A single picture of a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and cat ears.

"Wait a minute. Cat ears?!" I glued my eyes to the picture until they dried out and began to sting.

It was real. My first tenant was going to be a catgirl.

Nineteen years old, just one year above me. Occupation, former assassin—

"What?! They're sending me someone like this right off the bat? I'm going to be safe, right?" I asked myself.

There was more about her.

149cm. Likes yarn balls and scratching posts. Preferred living arrangements are high places, countertops, or with company. 

Then written in bold: Under no circumstances is she to receive catnip. Do so at your own peril.

I gulped hard.

"Yeah, okay. Never give catnip to the assassin catgirl." There was a whole lot more to read that could fill a book, but I didn't want to spend the whole night here.

I turned on the television and the first thing I noticed was how much the sound echoed despite the low volume. The living room I lounged around in was so large, yet cozy at the same time with all the furniture around. Everything down to the toilet paper was meticulously and vigorously vetted before purchase. Or so Markel told me. They wanted to make sure the nether-folks would be safe and had everything they needed when first arriving. If not, I'd have to go out to buy things for them.

The news channel was running a segment on the other world, Torcosta. Ten years ago, nether-folk mages had opened a portal into our world seeking help to fight against a demonic threat. It caused quite the stir, but humanity and nether-folks fought together and ended that war. Our alliances continued. Trade and technology prospered as both worlds linked hands. Many nether-folks expressed interest in coming to Earth, so to ease their transition, the Interworld Caretaker Act was put into effect by the United Nations.

"If she's arriving tomorrow morning, I might as well prepare a room for her," I mumbled to myself and shut off the television.

All of the rooms were on the second floor, ten rooms to a wing. The first floor had the living room, communal bath, a kitchen and dining room combo, and even a gym that I'd probably never use. My room was a master bedroom at the top of the stairs so I could quickly service either side if the need arose.

Since Cresta was the first tenant, I might as well assign her to Room 1. It was on the left wing, first door on the left. All bedrooms were essentially the same, but was only furnished with a bed and drawer, kept mostly empty to allow tenants to do as they wish with it. All I did was make the bed, put some folded towels at the foot, and nodded to myself for a job well done.

"Yeah. Even I can do something as simple as being a housemaid! Easy million-dollar payroll, if you ask me. Now…" I returned to my room which had been calling me all day. Specifically on my computer. With all the money that was fronted to me, I splurged and built the best gaming computer possible. Not only that, but with shelves full of manga and blu-ray anime to watch, a mini fridge stocked with junk food and soda, I was living the life. "My paradise is in full swing!"

"Ugh… maybe I went too ham on my paradise…" I splashed my face with cold water and checked the time. It was 8 in the morning. I had been gaming since yesterday afternoon and felt like shit. That was probably expected when all I ate were jalapeno-flavored potato chips and soda pop, stared at the computer screen in the dark for over ten hours straight, and fucked up my back from bad posture.

Ding. Dong.

Suddenly, I was wide awake.

The tenant.

They were supposed to come in today.

"Shit— I'm on my way!" I shouted, quickly fixing my disheveled self to look as presentable as possible.

The doorbell rang incessantly, like someone was playing ding-dong ditch but not knowing the ditching part of the prank. I almost tripped over myself rushing down the stairs. After taking a few deep breaths and steeling myself to see a nether-folk in person for the first time, I threw open the door with the fakest, most welcoming smile I could muster.

"Welcome! I'm your—" No one was there except for two suitcases. "Hello? Did they leave?"

"Oh, now you open the door. You were taking forever so I let myself in, nyahaha!" an impatient and playful voice said behind me.

I whipped around to a pair of twitching cat ears and a tail swinging from behind the short girl. She wore a blue buttoned-up military uniform with gold and red knitted chords that hung from the shoulders. Her grin revealed two sharp canines on the upper row of her teeth. She cocked her head to one side, confused as to my speechlessness. How couldn't I be? 

"Cat got your tongue, huh? You probably already know who I am, but just in case— " The catgirl clicked her heels together, stood straight as a pole, and put a fist to her chest. "Cresta Waurassel, former imperial assassin for the Empire of Granieda. I look forward to being in your care!"