You lie down in your bed with the thought that tomorrow is your birthday.

You wake up in a totally foreign place, unable to move or see anything.

Is it the divine punishment? No, nothing burns, and you can still move some of your limbs; therefore, complete darkness wasn't the end of your life. What luck. You flex your fingers—it's the maximum you can do. You yank your body forward to try to stand up, yet the ropes tied tightly around your torso keep you glued to the chair. That's when the room finally comes to life, and you hear something besides your own breathing and struggling. A clomp of heavy boots slowly approaches you, so slowly that it's more threatening than any shooting.

The blindfold comes off.

"Surrrr-prise!"

In front of you is a poor-looking table, filled with food that was mostly meat. The grey, sad walls were decorated with poorly cut-out bunting. The balloons attached to the ground were floating up, all had stupidly drawn faces showing either fear or malice, some were even drawn to have a gun or a knife, covered in blood. On one chair, there was seated a bulky, bald man, a tiny smile etched on his rough features. A comically tiny, pink party hat threatened to either slide off his head or break. His piercings glinted in the dim light.

A much shorter person walks from behind you and grabs another hat, attaching it to you. He, Ren, was smiling widely, showing his inhumanely sharp teeth. After he adjusts it, he pats your cheek in a somewhat condescending manner before moving to take a seat where a plate with raw chicken hearts was placed in a messy mountain.

"Well? Aren't you a cutie!" He barks out a laugh, his fox ears that you now notice twitch slightly. The other man keeps silent.

"The cake is ready!" A blonde, dressed in feminine, Barbie-like chef's clothes and with a peculiar accent, appears, holding a tray with a large cake decorated specifically to your tastes (with a bit of red icing dripping down the edges that looks suspiciously like you-know-what). The left part of his face was covered in a horrendous, old burn scar, yet, despite that, his long braid had a large, pink bow attached at its end.

"Candles." The beastkin commands, clicking his fingers. The dark-skinned thug nods, standing up to attach the number-shaped candles, and, after he's done, the blond worker lights them up.

"Well!" Ren claps his hands; everyone is finally seated. It seems to be only four of you, for the better or worse. "Make a wish now, what are you waiting for? Oh, right, let me put on some films! What a party is without a movie in the background?"

The large TV screen looming at the end of the room, in fact, directly in front of you, gets turned on to a footage of a human being brutally tortured. No one reacts vividly besides the Fox himself, whose tail now sways in a way that suspiciously reminds you of how dogs wag. He stares at the video with excited eyes before focusing back on you, silently expecting you to enjoy the happening.