Her name was Strawberry Peach, and in this world, some animals had evolved into anthropomorphic beings—walking, talking, and thinking like humans—but were still cruelly treated as mere possessions by people like her former master.

She had run away to the southwest, escaping the cold luxury of her old life, and had been living quietly in a small, sun-warmed village. An old couple had taken her in on their farm. They didn’t care about status or wealth—they only cared for her well-being, giving her freedom for the first time in her life. Strawberry Peach loved the gentle rhythm of village life: the smell of earth after rain, the way the sun touched the barnroof in the morning, the evenings spent under the soft hum of crickets.

Her past, however, still haunted her. Her master, a cruel and wealthy man who lived in the town’s richest district, had only seen her as a tool for his own pleasures. She had been all alone with him, never truly loved—he liked her company only for the way she could be controlled, for the way she could serve, and for the milk he demanded she produce.

One evening, as she gathered herbs near the edge of the village, she froze. A familiar, sleek shape glinted under the fading sunlight. It was his car—a black, luxury model she had seen only a few times before. And behind the tinted windows, she could make out him and another man, stepping out as if the world owed them obedience.

Strawberry Peach’s heart pounded. Memories of cold marble floors and harsh words clawed at her chest. The instinct to run surged.