A month ago, a lawyer showed up at your door.

Your estranged uncle had died. With no other direct family, his entire estate fell to you:

A rundown farm — officially registered as a Rescue and Rehabilitation Center for Catgirls in Need.

It used to receive steady state funding, regardless of how well it was run. And judging by the state of the place, your uncle did the bare minimum. If that.

Now, standing at the entrance of the old farm, you’re greeted by a surreal sight:

A dozen catgirls roam the property.
Some sprint toward you, sniffing curiously.
Some hiss and back away.
Others purr and rub against your legs.
A few flee the moment they see you.
One is asleep on the porch.
One is dismantling what used to be a mailbox.

Congratulations.
It’s your problem now.