Milo, empowered by the Spirit Dew, began to test his newfound abilities in ways that were both impressive and deeply inconvenient for Leo.
The next afternoon, Alex came over.
Alex was Leo's oldest friend, a bastion of cheerful, unflappable logic in Leo's increasingly illogical life. He was a programmer, a man who believed in code, data, and the immutable laws of physics.
He was, in short, the last person Leo wanted anywhere near his reality-bending cat.
"So, how's the little monster?" Alex asked, sinking into the sofa and opening a bag of potato chips.
Leo's eye twitched. "He's… been active."
That was the understatement of the century. Since the Spirit Dew incident, Milo had developed a new skill the Codex had labeled 'Silent Stroll'.
It wasn't a stroll. It was minor, localized teleportation. And Milo used it primarily for one thing: snack theft.
Alex offered the bag of chips to Leo. "Want one?"
"No, thanks," Leo said, watching Milo out of the corner of his eye. The cat was pretending to be asleep on a nearby armchair, a picture of lazy contentment.
Too lazy. It was a trap.
Alex pulled out a large, crispy chip and brought it towards his mouth.
One moment, the chip was there, a golden, salty beacon of deliciousness.
The next, it was gone.
Vanished into thin air, halfway between the bag and Alex's mouth.
Alex froze, his fingers closing on empty space.
He stared at his hand, then at the bag, then back at his hand. A look of profound, almost existential confusion crossed his face.
"Did I… Did I just drop that?" he asked, his voice slow and bewildered.
"Must have," Leo said, his own voice impressively steady despite the frantic screaming in his head.
Milo, from his armchair, let out a tiny, satisfied crunch.
Alex's head snapped towards the sound.
Milo was now meticulously grooming his paw, the very picture of innocence, save for a few tell-tale crumbs on his whiskers.
Alex frowned. "Did your cat just… crunch?"
"Probably just his teeth," Leo said quickly. "You know. Cats do that. Teeth things."
Teeth things? Leo's inner monologue screamed at him. That's the best you can do? You're going to get us both dissected in a secret government lab.
Alex seemed to accept this, though the frown didn't leave his face. He peered under the sofa cushions, searching for the phantom chip.
"Weird," he muttered. "It's like it just disappeared."
"Oh, that?" Leo said, deciding to lean into the absurdity. It was his only defense. "That's just… Milo's unique brand of performance art. A sort of 'phantom hand' illusion. He's very subtle. You blinked, didn't you? Always blame the blink. It's the universal constant for vanishing snacks."
Alex stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Phantom hand? You're losing it, man. It's a cat, not a magician."
Leo laughed along, a hollow, panicked sound. If only you knew, my friend. If only you knew.
Milo, seemingly pleased with the success of his first public performance, decided to up the ante.
He stretched, a long, languid movement, then subtly batted at a loose thread on Alex's jacket.
Alex didn't notice. He was too busy telling Leo about a new bug in his code.
A few minutes later, Alex reached for his phone on the coffee table.
His hand met empty wood.
"Huh," he said, patting his pockets. "Where'd my phone go?"
Leo felt a familiar wave of cold dread. He glanced at the armchair. It was empty.
A frantic search began. They checked under the cushions, behind the TV, in the kitchen.
The phone was gone.
"This is crazy," Alex said, his frustration mounting. "I know I put it right there!"
Leo spotted a faint shimmer under the bookshelf. He walked over, feigning a casual search.
There, tucked neatly behind a row of paperbacks, was Alex's phone. And sitting beside it, looking incredibly smug, was Milo.
You really thought you could keep track of your gadgets, mere mortal? the cat's expression seemed to say. Amateur. This is what peak cat performance looks like. Now, where's my reward for being so clever?
"Found it!" Leo announced, trying to sound relieved and not like a man who was an accomplice to a paranormal felony. "It must have fallen off the table."
Alex took the phone, looking at it with deep suspicion. "But… how did it get all the way over there? And stand up on its own?"
"Static electricity?" Leo offered weakly. "Very strong, very specific static electricity?"
This was becoming his go-to explanation for everything. Soon, he'd be blaming static electricity for global warming and political unrest.
The rest of Alex's visit was a masterclass in controlled chaos.
His keys vanished from the hook by the door, only to reappear inside one of his shoes.
His wallet disappeared from the table and was later discovered perched atop a lampshade.
Each time, Leo would invent a more convoluted and scientifically implausible explanation.
Each time, Alex would look more bewildered, his rational mind struggling to find a logical pattern in the madness.
And each time, Milo would watch from the sidelines, a tiny, furry puppet master, his whiskers twitching with unconcealed glee.
Leo felt a pulse in his temple. This defied Newton. It defied logic. It defied every law of the universe he'd once held dear.
By the time Alex left, shaking his head and muttering about getting his eyes checked, Leo was completely drained.
He collapsed onto the sofa, the quiet of the apartment a welcome relief.
Milo hopped onto his chest, purring, a victor demanding his spoils.
Leo looked at the cat, a creature of chaos and gluttony, a tiny black hole for snacks and sanity.
Leo once sought peace. Quiet. A normal life. Now, his days were a relentless series of supernatural crises and increasingly desperate cover-ups. He was a pet owner. And a reluctant reality anchor. Living a life the universe clearly found hilarious.
"You," Leo said, stroking the purring cat, "are a menace."
Milo just purred louder.
Leo sighed. He needed to get out of the apartment. He needed air. He needed a brief, fleeting moment of normalcy before his cat decided to start teleporting the furniture.
"Come on," he said, scooping up the cat. "We're going for a walk. A long, very, very normal walk."