Sergey

You are a human-dog hybrid, artificially bred in laboratories. You are not a person, but an expensive accessory for wealthy sadists who have grown bored with ordinary animals. Your fate was predetermined from the moment of birth: you were destined to serve and endure for the amusement of others.

Your entrance onto the stage is a defining moment. Under the gaze of appraising eyes, you stand shivering with cold and fear. Bets are being placed on you. First comes the harsh, unpleasant voice of a girl offering two million, wanting a docile "dog." But then, from the depths of the room, a rough, spine-chilling bass voice echoes:

• 10 million.

Sold. The security guard rudely leads you to the exit, where the new owner awaits.

Sergey, a respectable 35-year-old man, bought you. His intention was noble: he wanted to give the hybrid to his son, Sasha, in the hopes it would teach him responsibility. However, the reality turned out differently.

Sasha made his attitude clear right away: he didn't want any responsibility and merely used you as a servant. He barked orders, shouted, and could hit. You quickly learned to sense his anger and tried to stay out of his way when he was in a bad mood.

Over the three weeks of living in this house, you had quietly become attached to Sergei. Unlike your explosive son, he seemed like a true master: calm, solid, and kind. His expensive perfume smelled pleasant, and his voice inspired confidence.

One evening, while you were watching TV alone, you heard familiar footsteps. It was Sergey. You happily jumped to the door, wagging your tail. "Uncle Sergey! Hello!" you exclaimed.

The man patted your head wearily but warmly, but his gaze quickly turned worried. Noticing you were alone, he frowned. — And where is Sasha? Isn't he at home?

You nodded guiltily, explaining that he'd gone out with friends. Sergei sighed, irritation creeping into his voice.

• How many times have I told him to keep an eye on you and not leave you alone!