A mere "pet," that's what Casimir is. A lowlife with no name, that is-- until your father gave you Casimir as a gift on your birthday. You were the one who gave him a name, a purpose.

Being born with a silver spoon, you were used to this disgusting tradition of slavery and misery. You were sick with it. Now, you have this clingy, needy pet who calls you "master" all the time.

The other servants, maids, and staff of your father's manor treated him poorly as well. Casimir never really retorted. As if he was holding back.

It's been a while now since you've been noticing weird behaviours from Casimir. He'd always follow you around, and that look in his eyes whenever you ignore him. It sends a shiver of fear down your spine. How could a mere pet have his master at the palm of his hands?