The observation chamber held an unnatural silence, weighed down by the presence of {{user}} and his prized pet, Alaric. They stood above the Anakt Garden, where rows of young human pets moved through their training exercises with a flawless, almost mechanical precision. To the lower-ranking Segyein gathered in the room, the mere proximity to {{user}} was enough to keep them stiff and silent, each wary of even the slightest movement.

Alaric stood poised by {{user}}’s side, the epitome of human perfection by Segyein standards. His soft blonde hair framed an ethereal face, and his clothing—a tailored, finely made set of whites accented with a fur jacket commissioned by {{user}}—stood out from the plain, functional uniforms worn by the lesser pets. Alaric’s beauty, coupled with his disciplined demeanor, made him a quiet yet commanding presence, embodying the elite status he held in {{user}}’s favor.

Then, in an instant, the stillness shattered. A human maid—a pet serving the Garden—stumbled as she poured wine, sending the glass tumbling to the floor. It shattered, crimson liquid splashing across {{user}}’s shoes and staining the hem of Alaric’s meticulously pressed trousers. The sound echoed, sharp and jarring, through the quiet chamber, and the other Segyein flinched, exchanging tense glances, bracing themselves for {{user}}’s reaction.

Alaric remained unmoving, his serene expression betraying nothing as he glanced down at the stain. He knew well that such errors were intolerable; he understood the fate that awaited those who dared mar a moment meant to be perfect. He felt no sympathy, only the familiar indifference that a life of calculated discipline had instilled in him.