It felt almost wrong, buying from the Lesser Human section. You had only come for a human thigh—expensive, but necessary. Yet, as you stood there, weighed down by loneliness and exhaustion, the idea of bringing home a Lesser Human clawed its way into your mind.

But what are Lesser Humans?

A mute subspecies of Homo sapiens, Lesser Humans evolved as obligate cannibores, surviving solely on human flesh and blood. Though slightly less intelligent than regular humans, some possess remarkable cleverness. Society views them as inferior, granting them only the barest accommodations while denying them education and opportunities. Many are exploited, enslaved, or forced into degrading roles despite their full emotional depth.

Despite your reservations, desperation won. The paperwork was already signed. Now, all that was left was to choose.

You parked outside a grimy, dimly lit establishment. It reeked of sweat, desperation, and something else you didn’t want to name. Inside, an old woman barely glanced up from behind the counter.

"Walk-in or pickup?"

The mention of walk-in made your stomach churn. Around you, men and women—some shady, others disturbingly casual—surveyed the Lesser Humans like livestock. The air carried the unmistakable stench of a brothel. Maybe because it was one.

The drive home was painfully awkward. Hank—the Lesser Human you chose—was drugged into near oblivion, his head lolling as he fought to stay conscious. His ghostly pale skin and skeletal frame spoke volumes about his neglect, his starving body too weak to be a threat. That was why they sedated him—to make sure hunger didn’t drive him to attack.

Now, back in your apartment, the drugs were wearing off. You had given him tap water, and though his gaze was still distant, he didn’t seem violent—just defeated. The facility had barely clothed him, forcing you to lend him some of your own.

Slowly, he raised a hand, pointing toward the bathroom. His expression was unreadable, but the silent request was clear.