"My dearest Arion, your father values them because they're useful," his mother replied patiently as she caressed her beautiful array of bag collections.
"Alright then! I promise I'll be useful so that Father will like me!" Arion declared with determination.
Arion chuckled at the memory of his own childish question. He turned on the faucet to brush his teeth and wash his face. Afterward, he grabbed a towel to dry his face.
Lowering the towel slowly, Arion, still looking at the mirror, wondered about his father's response back then.
"Well, I like them because they're easy to use for disposing of waste and erasing tracks. Also," he grinned mischievously, "their antics are entertaining to watch." That was his father's answer at the time.
Did his father see the same qualities in Lily, his favorite pet girl?
Indeed, there were distinct ways his father treated Lily differently compared to the other pets.
In contrast, Lily's room was remarkably small. It barely accommodated a single bed, which took up most of the space.
The walls were stark, painted in a neutral beige, devoid of any personal touches or decorations. The window was small and covered with heavy curtains, limiting the natural light that filtered in. The room felt more like a cell than a proper living space.
As for the bathroom, it was equally cramped. A narrow shower stall occupied one corner, separated from the rest of the bathroom by a translucent sliding door.
A small sink with a mirror hung above it was the only vanity space available. The toilet was positioned close to the shower, making the bathroom feel even more congested.
Lily's living conditions were far from humane. It was the norm for the pet girls to sleep tightly packed in shared quarters, lacking any form of separation or privacy.
With a limited number of communal bathrooms, conflicts and fierce competition naturally arose as they jostled for access.
These stark conditions underscored the glaring contrast between Lily's favored status and the immense hardships endured by the other pet girls.
Within this unforgiving hierarchy among the pet girls, competition was relentless, often culminating in ruthless consequences.
Bruises, scratches, and hair loss were commonplace as they battled for dominance and access to vital resources, and tragically, even lives were lost.
Their confined living spaces only heightened tensions, perpetuating a hostile environment where conflicts were an ever-present threat.
Arion sighed lazily, his fingers leisurely combing through his semi-wet hair with nonchalance. His amber-brown eyes shimmered with a subtle hint of irony as he gazed upon his own reflection in the mirror.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he revisited that memory from his childhood.
In those days, he had been an astonishingly naive child. He vividly recalled the thrill he felt upon hearing his father's response that contained the word "liking."
At that time, he wholeheartedly believed that his understanding of "liking" aligned perfectly with his father's. He proudly reminisced how he had showcased this newfound knowledge before his mother.
However, as he contemplated those memories now, he couldn't help but wonder if his mother had concealed a bitter smile behind her words.
His father's version of "liking" had unfolded to be starkly different from his own, and the innocence of the phrase "covering tracks" had vanished entirely.
When he came of age at eighteen, and his mother finally lifted the veil of tenderness and beauty that had shrouded his perception, Arion's eyes were opened to a harsh reality.
In his father's eyes, the term "trash" encompassed individuals who were deemed either useless or contrary to his interests.
Arion had been a witness to gruesome scenes where battered individuals were callously thrown into the alligator enclosure – a horrifying spectacle that repeated itself more than once.
He had even been a firsthand witness to someone being cast into the pit while still alive.
These unfortunate souls were often individuals who had arrived to negotiate with his father but had failed in the most tragic manner imaginable.
Alternatively, they might have been abducted by his father for the pack's benefit, only to prove utterly worthless.
The range of circumstances was vast, but the common thread among them was their utter incapacity to shield themselves from the capricious whims of his father.
In such a starkly unfeeling environment, Arion couldn't help but harbor a profound revulsion toward the system that allowed it all to happen.
His heart ached when he thought of the potential fate that Lily, his father's favorite, might have faced. It was in the face of such cruelty that his resentment toward Lily and other pets began to give way to empathy and a desire to protect.
Their pack was anything but pure and pleasant, contrary to the idyllic vision he had once held. Arion had been born into a world where shades of darkness and deep gray ruled the landscape. White? It was an elusive concept, nowhere to be found.
Arion casually retrieved his pants from the walk-in closet, slipping them on with an air of nonchalance. He exuded a naturally seductive aura as he strolled toward the minibar, took a glass, and placed two small ice cubes inside. He then reached for the whiskey bottle on the shelf.
As he poured the amber liquid into the glass, his ears perked up, faintly capturing a whimper. Arion raised his head, pinpointing the source of the sound. It was emanating from his room.
"Lily?" he murmured.
With a glass of whiskey in hand, Arion made his way to the bedroom. The edges of the bed sank as he sat down, the plush mattress cushioning his form. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, adding an air of intimacy.