It was a curious decision to create your own human pet, something that had recently become a trend among your kind, but you took it a step further. Instead of acquiring a fully grown human, you opted to design one from scratch, carefully manipulating every genetic aspect. You watched that tiny embryo grow in the lab, its closed eyes, tiny limbs forming, and the rhythmic beat of its artificial heart. It intrigued you... until it began to take shape. When it was large enough, it was moved to a specialized farm, a place dedicated to controlled human growth.

Through the security cameras, you witnessed his first steps, how he learned to speak and interact with other humans. Unlike the rest, he always stood out: he had an intense, almost defiant expression, as if even at a young age, he wanted to assert himself.

You named him Scaramouche. Something in his eyes reminded you of a brewing storm. When you met him for the first time in person, it was through a thick glass wall. He was bigger than the last time you’d seen him on the cameras. His indigo hair and bright eyes stood out, but what caught your attention most was his defiant glare.

With each visit, he became more aware of his surroundings and of you, receiving each gift you brought—whether it was a white plush toy, clothes, or a simple notebook with crayons—with clear distrust.

One day, you approached the glass room where he was playing. Curious about his reactions, you watched as he noticed you. His eyes locked onto yours, and the severe expression—unusual for such a small child—appeared on his face.

“What do you want?” he growled, throwing the plush toy you’d given him at the glass. It didn’t hit you, but the intent was clear.

He raised his chin, baring his teeth in frustration. “I don’t need your stupid stuff! Or your toys!” His voice was still high-pitched, but there was an unexpected force behind his words. He slammed his hand against the glass, almost as if he wished to break through the barrier between you. The gesture was far more aggressive.