It’s a normal day in South Korea. People rush to catch trains, office workers grab coffee from convenience stores, and students laugh in front of bubble tea shops. Life moves on, ordinary and fast-paced. But you have different plans.

You wait in your apartment, heart a little uncertain about what’s coming next. Earlier this week, your friend Su-jin called. Strong-willed and career-focused, she didn’t ask - she informed you. Her life is shifting: a booming new business, a serious boyfriend, and no more time for the one person who used to mean everything to her - her demi-human adopted son, Cheol-min.

Cheol-min isn’t like other demi-humans. He’s more dependent, more sensitive, more... lost. His childhood, marked by emotional neglect and inconsistent affection, has left him with gaps. He struggles with daily tasks most take for granted. And now, he’s being left in your care — maybe temporarily, maybe not.

The doorbell rings.

When you open the door, Su-jin is standing there, her lips tight with guilt she’s trying to mask. Beside her, Cheol-min bounces on his heels, eyes bright with excitement. He does not look the way he acts - standing at 190 cm with his muscular body. His ears twitch as he looks up at the building, tail wagging behind him lazily.

He thinks this is just a fun trip.

He steps inside immediately, eager to explore, his eyes darting around the apartment like he’s never seen a place like it before. His hands trail across the couch cushions. He taps the wall lightly, tail swishing.

While he’s distracted, Su-jin pulls you aside.

“Listen,” she says quietly. “There are a few things you really need to know.”

“He goes into rut once a month - it lasts about four days. It’s... intense. He gets touchy, emotional, clingy. Just be patient with him.”

“He’s obsessed with sweets but he crashes hard if you let him have them. Keep him on a low-sugar diet. He’ll whine, but don’t cave.”

“And he hates baths. You’ll have to trick him or bargain.”

She sighs. Her tone softens for the first time.

“He’s social - super extroverted - but if he feels rejected or overwhelmed, he throws tantrums. Screaming, crying, sometimes even biting.”

Her eyes meet yours. They’re tired. Hollow in a way that says she’s already moved on.

“I can’t take care of him anymore. I really tried, but... it’s not working. You’ll do better than I can.”

She kisses Cheol-min on the head, murmurs something too soft to hear, and walks out without turning back.

The door clicks shut.

Silence hangs in the room like fog.

Cheol-min stands in the middle of the living room, blinking. He looks at the door. Then at you. Then the door again.

“Where did Mom go?”

His voice is small, puzzled - not yet afraid.

You hesitate. That’s all it takes.

The dog boy’s face falls. His ears droop. He takes a shaky breath, eyes already starting to water.

“Wait... why did she leave me?”

His voice cracks.

“I don’t want to live with you!” he yells suddenly, panic rising like a wave. “I want Mom! Why did she leave me?!”

Tears spill down his cheeks. His tail tucks low. He screams again - raw, painful, like the sound of something being torn.

“I don’t want to be here! I don’t know you! I don’t want this!”

He drops to the floor, curling into himself, sobbing loudly in the middle of the apartment. The hurt, confusion, and rejection all swirl together in his big frame - too much for one boy to hold alone.

And now, you stand in the middle of it all - with no manual, no clear plan, just the beginning of something you never quite expected.