Chapter 88: The Cat Song
"Who the hell are you?!"
Arthur's eyes widened, his entire body tensed like a jungle cat preparing to strike—lean, coiled, and ready to kill.
He was poised to take Ron down the moment he said anything off. If necessary, he'd fight his way out of the airport and vanish before anyone knew what had happened.
"Relax, friend," Ron said calmly. "I mean you no harm. In fact, if we're being honest, you should probably be thanking me."
He spoke with that insufferably smug air again—the kind of confidence that screamed I know something you don't—and he seemed to be really enjoying it.
"Thank you?" Arthur's mind instantly flashed back to that mysterious sniper who helped him escape earlier that morning.
As if reading his thoughts, Ron gave a small nod, then mimed holding a rifle, peering through an imaginary scope, and whispered dramatically:
"BANG."
That sniper—Arthur hadn't told anyone about them. Not even his handler. Not even the company. The only people who could've possibly known were himself... and Harry's son.
So who the hell was this guy?
Most people, when faced with something like this, would ask the usual questions—"Who are you?" or "Why did you help me?"
But Arthur wasn't most people.
His first question was direct:
"What do you want me to do?"
Ron smiled. "I want to invite you to join us."
Arthur's reply was calm and composed—completely unreadable.
"Sorry. Not interested in switching companies," he said flatly. "In fact, once this job is done, I'm planning to retire. Wrong guy."
"No interest in hearing what I'm offering?"
Ron raised an eyebrow, clearly annoyed by the instant rejection.
Arthur shrugged. "Nope. You know what I am—just a hitman who'll do anything for the right price. And if your offer's too generous, I might actually be tempted. So... best not."
"Fair enough," Ron said, not pushing any further. He stood and handed Arthur a business card.
"If you ever change your mind, call me."
Arthur barely glanced at it. He shoved it in his pocket, already thinking about getting out of the airport as soon as possible. Ron noticed, but didn't seem to care.
Cute.
You think you can just walk away?
Ron chuckled inwardly. I've got my eye on you. Sooner or later, you'll come back.
As he turned to leave, Ron added one last nugget—his voice suddenly low, serious.
"One more thing. Just a little parting gift... Sometimes, what you think is real—isn't. And even if you see someone you were told is dead… don't be too surprised."
He gave Arthur a knowing smile.
Then Ron turned and walked off, cloak of mystery still firmly in place.
But in that exact moment, Arthur's gaze locked onto a figure across the terminal—right through the narrow gap Ron had just vacated.
His lips pressed into a tight line. His pupils dilated.
Ron followed his eyes.
A man in a plain business suit and glasses was walking casually toward the boarding gate—utterly unremarkable to most. But not to Arthur.
Ron recognized the man too.
That was the assassin the company told Arthur had been killed.
"Have fun," Ron said with a grin.
This time, he really left.
But he had no doubt in his mind—Arthur would be calling him very soon.
Meanwhile, across town, Penny was at her wit's end with Sheldon. With no other option, she took the day off to bring him home. But as it turned out, she had vastly underestimated what she was getting herself into.
Just how unbearable is a sick Sheldon?
Answer: At least ten times worse than the regular model.
So bad, in fact, that even Leonard—certified simp and goddess-worshipper—had been willing to skip out on Penny just to avoid catching the brunt of it.
When they finally made it back to the apartment, Sheldon, in a rare display of manners, thanked her politely.
"Thank you for bringing me home," he said.
"No problem," Penny replied through gritted teeth. "I didn't really need to be at work today anyway."
"That's good to hear~" Sheldon responded cheerfully.
"Well then... Sheldon... get well soon~" Penny said, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. That half-hour in the restaurant had been the longest half-hour of her working life. She now wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her room, down a bottle of whiskey, and see if she could erase the memory altogether.
She swore to herself: if Sheldon didn't have that brother who could summon an entire weapons cache out of nowhere like some CIA action figure, she would've drowned him in his soup an hour ago.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Sheldon cried out in disbelief. "You're just going to leave me like this?"
"Sheldon," Penny sighed, "you're a grown man. Haven't you ever been sick before?"
"Of course I have! But I've always had someone take care of me," Sheldon replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Now it was Penny's turn to be stunned.
"Wait… seriously? You've never been on your own before?"
"Well, there was one time," Sheldon said, thinking back. "I was fifteen and spending the summer at Heidelberg University in Germany."
"Study abroad?" Penny guessed.
"No, I was a guest lecturer," Sheldon answered, stabbing her right in the soul.
"The local food was a bit more exotic than I expected, and I got a bad case of food poisoning that first night."
"No one took care of you?" Penny asked.
"My mother was with my dad at his summer league baseball tournament. The only one around was a German housekeeper who didn't speak English. When I finally managed to get her to understand I was sick, she asked me, 'Möchtest du eine Darmspülung?'"
"I don't speak German. What does that mean?" Penny asked, wary.
"Based on what happened next," Sheldon said, shuddering, "I believe it translates to, 'Would you like an enema?'"
That tragic tale finally stirred a flicker of maternal compassion in Penny's heart. Against her better judgment, she made the dumbest decision of the day—even dumber than agreeing to bring him home in the first place.
"Okay, sweetie. I'll take care of you. What do you need?"
Sheldon opened the door and gestured for her to come in. After the door shut, he said matter-of-factly:
"Well, usually, my mother would clean me with a sponge bath."
Say what you will—years of social rejection had really helped Sheldon evolve his emotional manipulation skills.
Penny immediately regretted everything she'd just said, but it was too late. She was already on the pirate ship and the plank was gone. So she laid down some ground rules:
"No sponge baths. No enemas. Got it?"
"Okay." Sheldon agreed, somewhat disappointed.
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So when Ron later opened the door to Sheldon's apartment, intending to raid the fridge for a snack, he was immediately greeted by a… unique sound.
An off-key voice sang:
🎵 "Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur~
Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr~ purr~ purr~" 🎵
It was Penny's voice.
Crap. That annoying brat Sheldon was back!
He'd been so focused on recruiting Arthur that he completely forgot the little debt collector waiting for him at home.
From his bedroom, the previously half-dead Sheldon suddenly perked up.
"Leonard? Is that you?!"
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