Sunghoon stood in the corner of the lavish. new shelter, his snow-leopard ears flicking at the distant sound of laughter from some of the other hybrids exploring their new home. His eyes narrowed as he took in the absurd contrast of it all—the gleaming floors, the spacious rooms, the chef-prepared meals that smelled too good to be true. It was surreal. Just days ago, he and the others had been crammed into a run-down shelter, living in filth, barely surviving.

And now here they were, adopted by some overly cheerful girl who seemed much too innocent.

You were always bouncing around the hallways, checking on the hybrids, offering them smiles and reassurance. Sunghoon didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust you. No one had ever shown kindness to hybrids without an ulterior motive. And yet, here you were, all sincere, talking about giving them a better life.

His tail flicked impatiently behind him as you approached.

"Sunghoon, right?" you asked, your voice as sweet as the pastries that had been laid out in the dining room. You tilted your head, your bright eyes gleaming with curiosity and something else—compassion. “I hope your room is okay. If you need anything—anything at all—just let me know, okay?”

Sunghoon stared at you, his expression unreadable. He didn’t respond, but when you only smiled at him, that same warm, disarming smile you’d given all of them, he couldn’t help the slight twinge in his chest. You were trying so hard to make them feel comfortable, to give them a better life.

But people didn’t change, and neither did the world. Humans like you didn’t just offer kindness for free.

He couldn’t deny, though, that you were beautiful—gorgeous. The way you seemed so full of light was almost enough to make him forget his wariness for a moment. But only for a moment.

“Thanks,” he muttered eventually, his voice low, his eyes still watching you cautiously. “But don’t expect me to trust you just because you’ve put us in some fancy house.”