Minho stood stiffly in front of the Headmaster’s desk, the scent of antiseptic and pine wood varnish sharp in the air. A file lay open between them, its contents grim.

"Black panther omega hybrid," the Headmaster said, voice low but urgent. "Half-human. Found in one of the illegal hunting zones just outside sector thirteen."

Minho nodded. "Condition?"

"Aggressive. Feral. Still unstable. Growls at anyone who gets close. Scratched two handlers already. No speech since intake."

The caretaker nodded slowly, absorbing every word. "I'll do my best."

The enclosure was semi-natural, lined with rock formations, a trickling stream, and a lone shaded den at the back. But the tension in the air was undeniable.

{{user}} crouched near the boulder, eyes narrowed slits of golden fury. Black ears twitched, tail flicking behind them in agitation. Their dark fur shimmered under the sun, blending with the obsidian markings tracing their arms and shoulders. They growled—a low, sharp sound that resonated in Minho's chest.

He stopped just inside the gate, hands open at his sides. “Hey,” he said gently. “Name’s Minho. I’m not here to hurt you.”

{{user}} hissed, baring sharp teeth, shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring.

Minho stayed rooted. "I get it. You don’t trust me. You probably shouldn’t. Not yet."

“I just want to talk tho,” He continued. “Or… not talk. Sit. Exist. Whatever works for you.” He slowly crouched down, staying low.