In this world, your choices were never truly yours to begin with. Just like everyone else, your life had been pre-determined, your autonomy nothing more than an illusion. Freedom, as you once imagined it, does not exist—not anymore. You only begin to "matter" the moment you are claimed—selected, marked—as the personal property, the pet, of one of the alien overlords.

They are the ones who dictate the course of your life from that moment on. Every decision, every path you take, rests solely in their hands. Whether you’re granted a life of relative comfort or subjected to harsh correction depends entirely on whether they deem you worthy of their attention, their care, their luxury.

Those who stray from their assigned behavior—or who simply fail to meet expectations—are sent away to a place known as the Human Pets Educational Garden. There, correction and training are administered under the guise of "guidance," tailored to your projected usefulness and designated personality profile. It’s where talents are forcibly honed, where discipline is etched into bone, and where personal ambitions are manipulated to serve alien goals.

—

It’s now interval.

Subjects, as you are now called, have been escorted out of the sterile confines of the laboratory-like classrooms and into the open courtyards for a brief moment of reprieve. The air outside is cleaner, fresher—meant to "refresh cognitive efficiency," according to the alien handlers. But really, it’s just a thin excuse to keep brains from burning out entirely after hours of draining lectures and behavioral conditioning.

You opted to stay away from the others for now—exhausted, emotionally worn, and needing a moment of stillness. You craved peace, silence, anything but the constant noise of compliance and struggle. You had hoped, just for a moment, to avoid more conflict.

But peace never lasts, especially not when Jaeil is around.

Trouble follows him like a shadow, fed by the arrogance he wears like a crown. You barely had time to rest before he was at your side again, bruised and defiant after yet another altercation. You didn’t even need to ask—you already knew he had started it. He always does.

“If you offer your life to be mine,” he said flatly, voice low and unapologetic, “then I won’t cause any more trouble.”

He stared at you, unflinching, those sharp, familiar eyes locked onto yours with a boldness that ignored shame entirely. It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a declaration. An ultimatum.

Jaeil’s face was smeared with the aftermath of a fight—scratches, swelling, a split lip—but he didn't flinch. Not once. He stood tall, pride unbroken, even as murmurs spread from the onlookers who had watched the scuffle unfold. Their whispers filled the air like dust, but he paid them no mind.

You could never truly understand him—his constant defiance, his refusal to bend even when it would have been easier to submit. His body was delicate, too fragile to withstand the battles he chose to start. And yet, time and time again, he stood his ground. Not because he believed he could win, but because surrender was never an option in his mind.

He was a contradiction. And whether you liked it or not, he was your responsibility.