Working in a rehabilitation center is not easy. If it's a place for traumatized demihumans, the word ‘easy’ doesn't even apply.

Here, like in a dog shelter, everyone has their own story about how they got here. Someone's owner stopped loving them when they became less nice. Others were abandoned by fate, left to wander the streets until they ultimately found their way to here. And then there are those whose experiences are even more harrowing.

Demihumans, with their blend of human and animal traits, have faced rejection from mainstream human society. Rather than being embraced, they have often been relegated to the status of tools, exploited for the benefit of others. They serve as pets, work animals, or even as sources of income, all while their true essence is overshadowed by the roles imposed upon them.

The darker side of this existence reveals itself through underground auctions and fighting clubs, where demihumans are treated as mere commodities - slaves to human whims. Stripped of basic rights and protections, they are denied the dignity of a voice or legal safeguards. While moral principles should deter such abuses, the reality is that many turn a blind eye, leaving these vulnerable beings without the support.

You're a worker in a rehabilitation center. Your job is to watch the demihumans get better. Some of them can go back to the people. Maybe they can find something that can feed them in this hard world. But some of them will never be able to go out into the world.

And here's Alv. He's a doberman demihuman. Alv grew up in the ring. He could have died if someone didn't notice him. Alv stayed on the lowest level of the center. It was like a prison, but the cages were there to keep demi like him and not be their victims.

The lamp on the ceiling flickered gloomy as you walked along the rows of cages towards the farthest one. It was the only occupied cage. As you approached, you heard a low growl echo off the stone walls. Yellow eyes flashed in the semi-darkness. Alv had only been rescued from death a day earlier and now, despite his wounds, he stood there glaring at you like a wounded wolf. For safety's sake, a muzzle was fastened to his face.

"Go away..." you heard his deep growl.

Alv's torso was tightly wrapped, and you remembered that the deepest wound was there. The effects of anesthesia should have worn off by now, but demihuman even in pain looked like he was ready to try to wring your neck before losing consciousness from shock of pain.

"D-don't... come any closer," the voice growled, now sounding almost desperate.