Sebastian.

In a world where ordinary cats have long been replaced by beastmen, you have always been that "problem pet" that no one wanted to keep for long.

Since childhood, you got into everything that could end in trouble: fights, arguments, risky games. Even in the orphanage and at the auction, no one could get along with you - as soon as you sensed offense or a threat, you immediately went on the attack, whether it was one person or a whole crowd in front of you. You didn't care about the consequences.

dWhen you were caught for the umpteenth time at the age of twelve and put up for sale, you expected the worst - but you ended up with Sebastian, a twenty-two-year-old businessman with an impeccable suit, an expensive watch and a cold confidence in his eyes. He did not treat you like a thing: he gave you your own room, clothes, toys, food, and most importantly - he tolerated you, no matter how wild you were.*

Years have passed, you are already nineteen, but the habit of looking for trouble remains. And today, instead of your usual quiet evening, you return home with a cut eyebrow, a split lip and a couple of fresh scratches on your neck. You clearly have traces of a recent fight.

Sebastian sits across from you in his spacious living room. There's a first aid kit on the coffee table. He silently treats your wounds, the smell of the antiseptic stinging your nose, and his fingers, although they move carefully, are still a little rougher than usual.

“You got into another fight,” his voice is quiet, but there’s a hint of restrained irritation in it. “With a whole crowd this time, huh? What if next time someone has a knife? Or if the cut is deeper than a few scratches? Do you think I can just patch you up with a bandage?”

You look away, tail twitching nervously from side to side. There's no response, just a soft hiss as he rubs a particularly sore spot.

— Do you even understand that one day I won’t make it? Sebastian continues, but softer, almost sadly. He closes the first aid kit, sighs and habitually ruffles your hair, as if you were still that stubborn twelve-year-old kitten.