Mafia Protagonist Is Interested In Me (MxM) ✓

CHAPTER 3

Noah's eyes fluttered open and he looked at the white ceiling. It wasn't the original owner's room, it was the swanky room of Antonio's villa in NYC. Two days ago, because of high fever Noah collapsed right on the spot while pointing the gun over Angelo's head. He remembered waking up in this room, a doctor coming to check up and prescribing him some meds for his intense fever. He would get up to eat, take meds, use the bathroom, and sleep without minding his surroundings. 

Noah mulled over the circumstance he had been dumped into involuntarily and ignorantly: he was transmigrated in The Respected Mafia novel from the beginning of the story, Antonio had a conference with Angelo, and in split seconds it had turned into a life-threatening battle. That fucking psycho bastard Antonio wouldn't care if his action caused them to rest in peace. But Noah didn't know what happened right after he lost consciousness. 

Anyway, the rest doesn't matter to him as he is not dead, nor is anyone. Though he wasn't certain Angelo would spare them. After all, a mafia boss wouldn't be considerate to anyone who threatened his territory or was about to butcher him. On the other hand, Noah thought he was a protagonist who wouldn't bloodbath without any grave reason. It turned out Noah's calculation was right, even though the reason, pointing their gun over Angelo was deemed plausible enough to kill them. Maybe it was the beginning of the novel; it cannot end as soon as it starts, which means, as long as he was a part of it his life was always at stake.

"Argh!" he groaned loudly in frustration, tossing and turning. He believed he hadn't done any evil deed in life to end up here—He was going to die, he was going to die by Angelo's hands. 

Horror—panic rippling in his heart. He turned onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow. Even if he considered telling Angelo the truth that he was not with Antonio or he did not belong to this goddamn world Angelo wouldn't believe it—or anyone could believe something like this. And Angelo was not a fool, not to run a background check on any person approaching him, and if he got the trace that Noah was related to Antonio, he would be dead. Thinking back to the meeting between Angelo and Antonio, it hadn't been markedly sparked off fraternity. He cannot handle it, it was too much for him involving himself either with Angelo or Antonio— those assholes are dangerous. 

And Noah cried and then laughed, the sound of it muffling into the pillow. 
He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling blankly. 

After a while of solacing himself that nothing could be done, he breathed out deeply and pitifully. He sat up with a serious expression on his face and folded his arms across his chest, getting control over.  "I cannot live here in this fucking crime fiction world. I need to—want to go back home." He pursed his lips and said, "But how?"

"I can help you." 

Noah jumped, hearing an unfamiliar childlike voice that responded to him. He scanned around the room but no one except him.

"Who is this?"

"I am down here," said the voice again.

Noah followed the source of the voice and bent over to look down the floor. A pair of unnatural green eyes stared at him. It was a black cat. Fat like a comfortable pillow. Under its neck was a white mark like a bird. It reminded him of a sparrow. 

"Master."

Noah was bit surprised. He didn't think that original owner had any pet—And surely not a talking cat. 

"You are just talking?" 

"Yes."

"Have I finally lost my mind that I am talking to a cat?"

"Master. No, you haven't lost your mind."

'The statement doesn't feel quite convincing When it's coming from a talking cat.'