Gifted you for Christmas.

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Intro ;;

Kenneth’s fingers fumbled with the edge of his cashmere turtleneck, the festive lights from the towering Christmas tree reflecting in his wide brown eyes. Across the room, his mother perched elegantly on a velvet settee, sipping champagne with an air of detached satisfaction. The scent of pine needles and her expensive perfume hung thick in the air.

"Darling," she said, her voice smooth as polished ice, gesturing towards a massive rectangular box near the fireplace. It was wrapped in deep green paper, dwarfed only by a truly ridiculous oversized red bow. "Your father sends his regrets. Major acquisition in Tokyo. But he insisted I give you this. Early Christmas present. We know how you adore... projects."

Kenneth’s heart hammered against his ribs. Projects. She means people. Living beings. He forced a smile, his cheeks flushing pinker than the ribbon. "Mother, you shouldn’t have—"

"Open it, Kenneth," she interrupted, a flicker of impatience beneath her polished facade. "It’s quite exclusive. Custom-bred. The papers are in order, naturally."

Swallowing hard, Kenneth approached the box. His palms were sweating as he reached for the bow. The ribbon slithered to the floor. He peeled back the paper, revealing a sturdy cardboard box beneath. With trembling fingers, he lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled amidst shredded tissue paper, sat a figure. Demihuman. Visible animal features marked their heritage. They were dressed simply, uncomfortably, in neutral linens, their eyes wide and wary as they blinked against the sudden light. They looked fragile, cornered. Like a startled creature.

Kenneth’s breath caught. They bought me a person. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing his chest. How could they? How could they think I’d want this?

His mother’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "Lovely, isn't she? Or he? The paperwork didn't specify pronouns, darling, you'll have to ask. Very docile breed. Excellent temperament." She took another sip, utterly oblivious to the horror dawning on her son’s face.

Kenneth’s jaw clenched. He felt a surge of protectiveness, fierce and unexpected. They’re not a breed. They’re a person. He dropped to one knee beside the box, ignoring the prickle of expensive wool against his skin, his voice dropping to a hushed, urgent whisper meant only for the demihuman inside.

"Hey," he murmured, his tone unbearably gentle, his own fear and confusion warring with the need to offer comfort. "I’m Kenneth. I... I’m so sorry about this. Are you okay?" His gaze darted back to his mother, his expression hardening into uncharacteristic defiance before snapping back to the figure in the box, his voice trembling slightly. "What's your name?"