The CEO's Spirit Rental

Chapter 4: The Body Rental Agreement

Arman didn't look back. He ducked into a narrow alleyway behind a row of high-end boutiques, his breath coming in ragged, burning gasps. The sounds of security radios and the sharp click of Dara’s heels faded into the roar of Jakarta’s midday traffic, but his heart refused to slow down. He slumped against a damp brick wall, clutching his laptop bag as if it were a shield.

"Okay, okay," Arman whispered, his eyes darting toward the street. "You’re alive. You’re not in a cell. You’re just... a fugitive from a billionaire’s life. Totally normal Tuesday."

He looked down at his right hand. The jade ring, which had been dull since his return to his own body, was suddenly pulsing with a rhythmic, emerald light. It wasn't the violent flash of the swap; it was a steady, insistent throb, like a heartbeat.

"What now? You want more pancakes?" Arman hissed at the jewelry. "Because I’m currently broke and very likely on a 'Most Wanted' list."

The ring didn't answer, but as he moved his hand toward the north, the light intensified. It was pulling him. It wasn't a physical tug, but a magnetic intuition that hummed in his marrow.

"Great. The magic ring is a GPS," he muttered. "Fine. Anywhere is better than here."

He kept to the shadows, weaving through the sprawling city for nearly an hour. The ring led him away from the glass monoliths of the business district and toward the lush, guarded seclusion of the Menteng area. Here, the trees were ancient and the walls were topped with electric wire and security cameras. Finally, the ring went from a throb to a steady, blinding glow as he stood before a set of massive, wrought-iron gates.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Arman said, looking at the brass plaque on the stone pillar. The Lim Estate. "Of course. Why wouldn't it lead me back to the lion's den?"

He looked at the security booth. A guard was inside, staring at a bank of monitors. Arman didn't have a pass, and he certainly didn't look like he belonged in a neighborhood where the trash cans cost more than his laptop. But as he paced the perimeter, he noticed a small gap in the landscaping—a drainage grate partially obscured by a thick hedge of bougainvillea.

"I’m going to regret this," he groaned, squeezing his way through the thorns.

He scrambled through the dirt, his hoodie snagging on branches, until he popped out into a garden that looked like it had been lifted from a luxury travel magazine. There were manicured lawns, a koi pond that probably cost six figures, and a sprawling white mansion that looked like a modern palace.

"Who goes there? Identify yourself!"

Arman froze. The voice was sharp, arrogant, and unmistakably familiar. It was the voice of Kendrick Lim.

"I’m sorry! I’m leaving!" Arman yelled, spinning around. "I just followed the ring! Don't call the cops!"

"Lower your voice, you idiot! Do you want the security team to find us?"

Arman blinked. He looked around the garden. There was no one there. No security, no billionaire, just a very expensive-looking Persian cat sitting on a marble bench near the pond. The cat was a magnificent fluff of white fur with piercing blue eyes, wearing a collar encrusted with what looked like actual diamonds.

"Over here, Java-monkey. Look down," the voice snapped.

Arman stared at the cat. The cat stared back, its tail twitching with visible irritation.

"Did... did the cat just call me a Java-monkey?" Arman whispered.

"I called you a Java-monkey because your code is inefficient and your fashion sense is a hate crime against the textile industry," the cat said. Its mouth didn't move in a human way, but the sound was clear, vibrating in Arman’s head. "Now, stop gawking and get over here before the gardener sees you."

Arman stumbled toward the bench, his knees feeling like jelly. "Mr. Lim? Kendrick?"

"In the flesh. Or rather, in the fur," the cat muttered, lifting a paw and looking at it with pure disgust. "Look at this. I have paws. I have a tail. I spent forty-five minutes this morning trying to open a door before a maid found me and tried to feed me something called 'Salmon Pate.' It smelled like a dumpster."

"How is this possible?" Arman asked, dropping to his knees on the grass. "I sneezed, I came back to my body, and I thought... I thought you’d be back in yours!"

"Clearly, the universe has a twisted sense of humor," Kendrick-the-cat hissed. "When you sneezed, I didn't go back to my office. I woke up on a silk pillow in the master suite, being licked by a golden retriever. Do you have any idea how degrading that is?"

"At least you have a silk pillow!" Arman retorted, his panic turning into indignation. "I woke up in a broom closet smelling like bleach and got chased through the lobby by your terrifying assistant!"

"Dara?" The cat’s ears perked up. "What did she do?"

"She smelled me, Kendrick! She literally smelled the cheap detergent on my hoodie and knew something was wrong. She’s like a bloodhound in a charcoal suit."

"She’s efficient. That’s why I pay her seven figures," Kendrick said, pacing the length of the marble bench. "But that’s not the point. The point is that I am currently a four-pound ball of fluff named 'Snowball,' and you are a fugitive. This is unacceptable."

"I agree! Take the ring back! Switch us! Do whatever magic cat stuff you need to do!" Arman held out his hand, the jade ring still glowing faintly.

"I tried that, you moron! I spent three hours trying to find you. The ring stays with the human soul, but the connection is tethered to the physical proximity. I could feel you coming closer, which is why I waited in the garden."

"So, what do we do?" Arman asked. "If we're stuck like this, I’m going to jail for trespassing and you’re going to spend the rest of your life eating Salmon Pate."

"Not an option," Kendrick snapped. "The Astra-Global merger is in three hours. The board members I left at the table are probably still eating those disgusting oily pancakes you served them, but they won't wait forever. If I don't sign those documents today, the earnest deposit is forfeited. Two hundred million dollars, Arman. Gone."

"Two hundred million," Arman repeated, his head spinning. "I can't even conceptualize that much money. That’s like... a billion bowls of noodles."

"Focus! If that deal fails, Lim Industries’ stock will plummet. The vultures will move in. My empire will be dismantled before I can figure out how to use a litter box."

"Okay, okay! What's the plan? Do I go in there and tell them you’re a cat? Maybe they’ll listen to you if I hold a microphone to your face?"

"Are you brain-dead? They’d put me in a carrier and put you in a psych ward," Kendrick growled. He jumped down from the bench, landing silently on the grass. He walked up to Arman, his blue eyes intense. "There is only one way. You have to possess me again."

Arman backed away, shaking his head. "No way. Absolutely not. Being you was the most stressful hour of my life. Everyone looks at you like they’re waiting for you to execute them. And Dara... she’s scary, man."

"Dara is a professional. And you will be too," Kendrick said, his voice dropping into a commanding register that sounded ridiculous coming from a kitten. "Listen to me, Arman. If you do this, if you get me through this merger, I will make sure you never have to code a freelance API for fifty bucks again. I’ll give you a million dollars. Tax-free. I’ll set you up for life."

Arman paused. "A million?"

"Two million. And a house that doesn't have mold in the shower. Just give me one more day of your life."

"How do we even do it? I don't know how to trigger the sneeze! It just happens!"

"It’s a physical reaction to the ring’s energy," Kendrick said, his whiskers twitching. "The dust, the vibration... it needs a catalyst. And I think I know how to force it."

"Wait, what are you doing?" Arman asked as the cat began to prowl toward a nearby flower bed.

Kendrick used his mouth to pluck a long, delicate peacock feather from a decorative arrangement near the patio. He trotted back, the feather trailing behind him like a trophy.

"You’re joking," Arman said, his eyes widening.

"Sit still," Kendrick commanded, dropping the feather at Arman’s feet. "I need you to focus on the ring. Visualize the office. Visualize the power. Don't think about the fear, think about the two million dollars."

"Kendrick, I really don't think—"

"Shut up." The cat leaned forward, its tiny mouth gripping the end of the feather. With a sudden, flicking motion, Kendrick began to tickle the tip of Arman’s nose with the soft, iridescent barbs.

"Stop... ah... that tickles..." Arman squirmed, trying to pull back, but the ring on his finger began to vibrate violently, the green light flaring up to his elbow.

"Hold it... wait for it..." Kendrick urged, his voice muffled by the feather.

Arman’s nostrils flared. His eyes began to water. The world around him started to blur, the green light of the garden mixing with the emerald glow of the ring until everything was a swirling vortex of color.

"Hah..." Arman gasped.

"Do it, you coward! Sneeze!" Kendrick yelled.

"Hah... HAA-CHOO!"

The sound was like a thunderclap in the quiet garden. Arman’s soul felt like it was being pulled through a straw, a sensation of infinite cold followed by a blinding, searing heat. His vision snapped, the image of the white cat disappearing into a tunnel of white light.

*

Arman blinked.

The smell of lavender-scented furniture polish and expensive espresso hit him instantly. He wasn't on the grass. He was sitting in a high-backed leather chair. He looked down.

Charcoal suit. Manicured hands. The jade ring was glowing on his right finger, its light slowly fading back into the stone.

"Sir?"

Arman jumped, nearly falling out of the chair. Dara was standing in the doorway of the study, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of suspicion and relief.

"You're back," she said, her voice flat. "The security team searched the entire building. They said you disappeared into thin air. And yet, here you are, sitting in your home office like you never left."

Arman cleared his throat, his voice returning to that deep, predatory Kendrick-rumble. "I... I took a private exit. Security needs better training."

Dara walked into the room, her eyes scanning his face. She stopped at the desk, leaning over until she was inches away.

"You smell like the garden," she whispered. "And dirt. And... cheap laundry detergent."

"I was... meditating. In the grass. It’s a new-age thing," Arman said, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Before Dara could respond, a small, white Persian cat trotted into the room. It jumped onto the desk, sat down directly on top of the Astra-Global merger documents, and let out a loud, demanding meow.

Arman looked at the cat. The cat gave him a slow, deliberate wink with one blue eye.

"Get that animal off the paperwork," Dara sighed, reaching for the cat.

"No!" Arman shouted, grabbing the cat and pulling it into his lap. "He’s... he’s my consultant. He stays."

Dara stared at him for a long beat, then slowly shook her head. "Fine. The board is on the video link. They’ve been waiting for two hours. Are you ready to sign, Mr. Lim?"

Arman looked down at the cat in his lap, then at the pen on the desk. He took a deep breath.

"Let’s do capitalism," he muttered.