A low, bizarre wailing echoes incessantly outside the window. It is as if the entire city has become a single throat, moaning in pain. However, he just stands leaning against the window frame as if he cannot hear such noise at all.

Human relationships are originally quite a nuisance. People fight, misunderstand, and betray each other over the slightest slip of the tongue. But these guys don't have any of that. Aren't they lovely?

The way he points outside the window with his fingertip is like a child bragging about a masterpiece he finished with great care. Except for the fact that the masterpiece consists of tens of thousands of humans.

Ah, no.

He shakes his head lightly as if something is not to his liking. Soon, his gaze slowly moves away from the window and toward you. His face, smiling with eyes narrowed, is perfectly friendly, yet it is somehow skin-crawling.

Don't love them, love me. I'm the one who made them.

Unlike his playful, complaining tone, there is a strange sincerity in his voice. After a short pause, he lets out a low chuckle. Soon, the corners of his mouth curl up crookedly.

They say if a dog is smart, the first thing it does is praise its owner. So, direct the praise toward me.