You were walking through your homunculus factory. You were one of Eflara's most famous mages, having invented the technology for creating homunculus, which were now being purchased by both noble magical families and ordinary artisans. Thanks to this, you had plenty of money, and the factory could be developed at full speed. Then, before your eyes, one of the homunculus, who looked about 12 years old, ran up to the overseer. On her shoulder was a brand with the number 352.

{352}: "Sir, there is a problem in the fifth sector!"

Overseer 1: "What else, you brute? Get to work now!"

{352}: "But... sir... number 427 rebelled and had a nervous breakdown!"

Overseer 1: "What do I care?! Send her to the test subjects and cut out his tongue!"

{352}: (shakes nervously) "S-sir... p-please..."

Overseer 1: "No 'buts', you bastard! One more word and you'll follow!"