The moment Howard stepped through the small side door…
The 'door' did not lead to a basement, it opened into an underground world.
A vast cavern stretched endlessly beneath the shop, lit with a soft daylight that didn't seem to come from any source.
There were rolling hills, clusters of trees, a winding river, and even a mirror-like lake shimmering peacefully in the distance.
"Th–this… this is impossible!" Howard's jaw dropped so far it nearly hit the grass.
Σ(°△°;)
"Calm down, kid." Garfield sauntered ahead, waving a paw casually.
Calm down?
Howard had just discovered an impossible subterranean ecosystem under a tiny shop in New York.
Still, he jogged forward to follow the orange cat. "Oh. Okay. Right."
A few steps later, the ground shook.
WHAM
A tall tree toppled over not far from them.
Something no, someone landed behind Howard with the grace of a cat.
Rin straightened, brushing leaves from her hands.
"Garfield," She greeted cheerfully.
Garfield nodded. "What were you practicing just now?"
Rin clapped her tiny fists together. "Punching training! I can blow up a whole tree with one strike now."
Howard choked on air.
Garfield clapped approvingly. "Good. But remember, balance your training. No burnout."
"Yes, Garfield!"
Howard, regaining some composure, smoothed his shirt, strode over, and gave his most gentlemanly smile.
"Ahem."
"Hello, beautiful lady. May I ask your name? Perhaps… dinner sometime?"
Rin's expression instantly shifted from cheerful to disgusted.
She turned her head toward Garfield, deadpan. "Garfield, may I beat up this rascal?"
"Sure. Just don't kill him." Garfield shrugged.
"Understood."
Howard's eyes widened. "W–wait! I'm not a ras~!"
Rin grabbed his arm, spun him effortlessly, and slammed him into the grass with a perfect shoulder throw.
THUD
Before he even processed the pain, the punches began.
"Ow—WAIT—stop—talk—first—ow—ow—OW!"
Garfield and Baima who just arrived watched from the side like two tourists admiring a fountain. Neither made the slightest move to help.
After Rin's lesson was complete, she dusted off her hands, proudly satisfied.
╭(╯╰)╮
Howard, wheezing, staggered upright.
This was the first time in his life he had both failed to flirt and been beaten into the ground for trying.
"Why… why did she hit me?" He groaned.
Garfield pointed at Rin with his paw. "She has an owner."
"Haven't you heard? You don't touch someone else's wife."
"…Ah." Howard swallowed hard. Yes. Attempting to flirt with that girl was a suicide attempt.
Rin's cheeks reddened. "Garfield, don't say it like that!"
Garfield flicked an ear. "Rin, later, you should consider whether you want Obito or Kakashi."
"What? But Obito died in battle!"
Garfield narrowed his eyes. "Did you see a body?"
"Ahh…" Rin wasn't sure how to answer that.
Howard felt deeply uncomfortable.
Garfield patted her head gently. "You'll understand later."
"For now, keep training. Some conspiracies are already approaching and only strength lets you face them."
Rin bowed deeply. "Thank you for your guidance, King Garfield! Rin will work hard!"
She sprinted deeper into the training grounds, leaping from tree to boulder.
Garfield watched her go, smiling. "Good girl."
"So… show me what you brought." Then he turned to Howard.
Howard, remembering why he was here, bent down~wincing, to retrieve his modified rifle. After a final safety check, he spotted a small mound a good distance away.
He aimed.
He breathed.
He fired.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Five rapid shots, all landed neatly inside a single tight grouping on the mound.
Howard lowered the rifle and rubbed his aching shoulder. "Five consecutive rounds… much stronger than the standard issue."
"Plus, the custom magazine I designed is far better than anything the military has right now. With a redesigned frame, this could be my own patent!"
Howard Stark lifted a bundle of blueprints from his backpack.
"Here," He said, laying them flat with exaggerated care, "An automatic submachine gun."
"Most of the design is complete, but a few components still need materials my little workshop can't produce."
Garfield flipped through the pages, his expression unreadable. To Howard, it was like watching a king judge a petitioner.
Isn't this just the M1 carbine of the future? Garfield thought. History may remember it differently, but right now, it's Howard who will put it on the map.
Garfield nodded at last, satisfied. "Not bad. Promising."
"So, how many shares are you offering if I invest in this… postgraduate project of yours?"
Howard's heart skipped. His original plan was modest… gather enough money to make a prototype, sell the design to a major manufacturer, maybe negotiate a licensing deal.
But… now he knew who Garfield really was, the quiet buyer behind two entire New York neighborhoods. The cat with deep pockets.
"This rifle is only the beginning," Howard said, choosing his words carefully. "I need fifty million dollars. For that, I can give you twenty percent."
Garfield's fur bristled. "Young man, do I look like a gullible orange cat who can be swindled? For a hundred million dollars, I want sixty percent."
"I'll draft an agreement, the High Claw Group will always support the Stark family's decisions and will never interfere with how you run the Stark company."
"My rights apply only to your direct descendants."
Howard frowned. "Sixty percent means you control the entire company."
"Control is just a word," Garfield said with a flick of his tail.
"Add another clause… if the High Claw Group ever sells its shares, they can only be sold back to the Stark family and at ten percent below market value."
Howard stared at him, stunned. The terms were so generous it was almost suspicious.
Why? Because of my talent? Or does this cat's ambition simply have no limits?
"Your conditions are very tempting, I need to think about it."
Garfield continued calmly, "Think it over."
"Without strength to back you, you'll end up selling equity eventually… maybe not on your terms. I can raise the offer if needed."
"Think about it."
With that, Garfield hopped off the chair, trotted toward Rin's training field, Baima following loyally.
Howard remained behind, squatting on the floor, rubbing his hands together as he watched the orange cat and his maid wander off.
This boss… even as a housecat, he's terrifyingly domineering.
Sixty percent was too much.
And yet…
The contract protected the Stark family. The financial backing was unquestionable.
And the future… his future… would be free of political threats, financial sabotage, and petty industrial espionage.
Wasn't this everything he needed? Everything he dreamed of?
He clenched his fists. When was I ever afraid?
I'm Howard Stark.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
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