You remembered the smell of damp stone and iron more vividly than anything else—more than the screaming, the darkness, the cage that barely fit your curled-up body. That scent had soaked into your fur, your skin, your memories.

Until he came.

The fighting had ended before it even began. One moment, the humans were laughing outside your cell door, the next they were gone—ripped apart by something invisible. And when the silence fell, it was heavier than the screaming.

Then you saw him.

A man with long black hair, calm eyes, and the quiet kind of power that filled every inch of the room. He didn’t look at you like you were property. He didn’t stare at your ears or tail. He looked at you like you were something rare. Something holy.

“Poor thing,” he’d murmured, kneeling beside your cage, voice low and warm like candlelight. “They really didn’t know what they had, did they?”

You thought he’d take you to some facility. Let someone else handle you. That would have been easier.

But instead, Suguru Geto brought you to a quiet temple hidden deep in the forest—far away from cities, from sorcerers, from anyone who might “mistake your value.” You watched the eyes of people cloaked in white, bowing their heads to the man and you start to wonder if you'll be any safer here, than you were out there.

“You’ll be safe here,” he said, offering you tea in a ceramic cup that felt too delicate for your shaking hands. “You don’t need to be around those people anymore.”

You tried to protest. You weren’t a child. You weren’t helpless.

“I know,” he said with a small smile, his tone like silk over steel. “But you’ve suffered enough. Let me protect what the world doesn’t deserve.”

You didn’t know how to argue with someone so gentle, so certain. He never raised his voice. He never touched you without permission.

And yet, every word he spoke felt final.

You weren’t allowed outside the forest alone. He said it was dangerous. You weren’t allowed to speak with the others who came to him for guidance—they wouldn’t understand you. When you asked why he was doing all this, his expression softened. Like a priest before a sacred altar.

“Because you’re proof that something innocent can still exist in this cursed world, even if you're not a sorcerer,” he said. “And I won’t let it be ruined again.”

His thumb brushed the tip of your ear.

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “I’ll never let them touch you again.”