I stood anxiously, Fluffles in my lap, staring at the menu option that called me.

[Summon Catgirl]

We had argued for a moment over the café, then eventually made it a bit more fitting for humans with a larger door and some windows, and so the time I had finally come. We shared a long look.

I said a silent prayer. Then I pressed the button.

The prayer repeated in my head over and over as a summoning circle appeared and a silhouette appeared inside it. Please be cute, please be cute, please be cute, please be cute…

Fluffles wiggled with agitation in my lap. My tail twirled and my ears waggled. Then—a bright flash. The summoning circle vanished in a blinding shower of blue light, like a thousand butterflies taking flight at once, and the figure in the middle was revealed.

A young woman with a stern face and brown hair in a neat bun, wearing a black and white outfit and an apron. She had a large carrying case in one hand, and a broom in the other. And a tail. And cat ears.

That distinct outfit—there was no mistaking it. A maid.

A catgirl maid.

Joy stirred in my heart. I jumped up into the air, pumping my fist. “Yesssssss!”

Abandoned by my hands, Fluffles tumbled to the grass and gave me an odd look. “What’s got you this excited?”

“My—” the maid said, bringing her hands to her mouth. “Is that a talking cat?” Her eyes shifted to me, and her face grew stern. “And you young miss, what is all this? Where in the heavens is this?”

Something in her accent and bearing caught my eye and I examined her closer. Now that I really looked at her maid uniform, it was of a rather archaic design…

“Sorry miss, but are you by any chance British?” I asked her.

She scoffed. “Are you daft? Where do you think we are?”

I stepped closer. “That is an important question too, but for you I have another. When exactly are you? What year is it for you?”

She looked at me as if I was mad, then stared at my swishing tail with fascination. “How is that—never mind. But don’t you know the time? Have you been living under a rock?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said, nodding back at our dungeon.

She shook her head, muttered something under her breath, then sighed. “Well, it’s the year 1768, or my name isn’t Margery.”

I smiled wide and picked Fluffles up by the scruff of his neck, then handed the cat to her. “Well, welcome to the team Margery, there’s a lot to explain.”

—

“By king and country,” the maid muttered, staring at her cat’s tail with dazed eyes.

I nodded. “I understand it is shocking, but it is reality. You cannot deny these system messages, can you?”

She looked at the blue box flashing by her head and grimaced. “Perhaps I’ve just eaten some odd shrooms, and this is all a dream?”

I pinched her ear. “Does this feel like a dream?”

She winced back and glared at me, but then sighed and slumped down. “So I really am lost in a new world, servant to a fat cat of all things.”

“I’m not fat,” Fluffles said, circling her like an arrogant sphinx. “This body is a mere illusion—my proportions are exactly as I wish them to be.”

Margery stared at the cat, and her green eyes finally focused out of their daze. “Well, even if it is a new world, I am still a maid. But…” She looked up at me. “I’m not so certain about a cat for a master. Would it be possible for me to enter your service instead?”

“Hey!” Fluffles growled. “What’s wrong with being in my service?”

“Quite many things,” I said, calming him with a headpat. But I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. A real maid had just asked to be my maid. That right there is what dreams are maid of, heh.

“We already are sisters in arms, picked by the hand of fate, but if you will it, you may call me mistress.”

She bowed and her brown curls shone brightly in the sunshine. “It would be my pleasure, mistress. Why, It’s just really a lot more easy on the mind when there is something to do, especially in such queer circumstances.”

I nodded. “Indeed—there is a lot to do, for example the café requires a lot of work and—”

Something hit me on the head. “Ow—fuck!” I looked up and saw a stark-black crow flying away, something akin to a smirk on its face. “What was that for?”

“Language, mistress!” Marguery scolded me.

I growled an apology, then looked at what the crow had just dropped on my head.

A bone. My tail swished.

“What in the—?”

I picked it up, then noticed that it wasn’t just an ordinary bone—it had a message scrawled onto it in a flowing script. A message for me.

Dearest Kati,

We parted rather amiably, but the reports I have received on your activities have been very concerning. We dark elves are proud of our necromancy arts, and it has come to our attention that your dungeon mistreats the undead as disposable throwaways, not giving them the proper respect they deserve.

As we cannot accept this, the D-Rank [Bone Zone] dungeon has issued a dungeon challenge to you, to be done on the morrow.

We are open to negotiations. That tool of yours was most fascinating.

With love, Natasha

“We just got challenged to a dungeon duel, it seems,” I said, throwing the bone to the ground. “That dark elf changed her mind. Fluffles, what exactly is a dungeon duel?”

Why would she change her stance on me so suddenly? Something about this reeks...

The cat flinched back from the bone as if it was a cursed artefact. “A dungeon duel? But we aren’t ready for those!”

“Focus! What’s a dungeon duel?” I repeated, grabbing the cat into my hands.

He looked at me, tense. “A dungeon duel is when two dungeons are magically connected by the system, allowing monsters from one to invade the other. Challenges like this are serious business, and backing down isn’t simple. And our dungeon just isn’t ready for anything like that!”

“We are under attack?” Margery asked, looking between us. “Who are these enemies of ours?”

“It’s a serious situation Margery, how should I explain this…?”

I looked her over, the pointed at the little meadow that covered our dungeon area. “It’s a dangerous world out there, and this little island here is our safe haven, our fortress Britain. And over there…” I pointed at the dark forest, looming just by the periphery. “The clever French are lurking—waiting, ready for any chance to strike against us and steal our glory. Additionally, far away, bigger plots are being made all the time as the yanks plot rebellion against us.”

I locked eyes with her. “Do you understand? There are many foes who wish to drag us out from our glorious island.”

The maid’s eyes burned. She ground her teeth. “Bloody frogs and yanks plotting away… not on my watch!”

She bent down, and finally threw open the latches of her carrying case, then reached inside—

And took out her musket and began fixing the bayonet on.

I nodded approvingly. “I just knew I could count on you! Always got to keep one of those for self-defence.”