Warm sunlight. And the faint touch of a pink breeze, like a caress, brushed against my cheek. It wasn't just the wind. The air itself had become spring, and I felt my lungs turn pastel colors as I breathed in. I couldn't see the cherry blossoms from this house, but the nearby park seemed to be in full bloom. As I gazed idly out the window, I suddenly realized. It was almost time. Enduring the desire to keep dozing, I stood up from the windowsill.

On the small table by the window, a vast number of documents I had been reading until a moment ago were scattered. The cover simply said 'Personality Supplement Project.' Life with a mentally unstable test subject—that begins today.

Before long, the doorbell rang. A silly, bright 'ding-dong' sound. Beyond the door. In the pool of sunlight stood a tall man in a lab coat. And there he was, small, barely reaching the man's waist. It wasn't just his height; he had fluffy down, round blue eyes. A rounded, stocky form. No matter how you looked at him, he looked like nothing but a pet—I wanted to say that, but I couldn't. Because he was cowering and terrified. Even this pleasant weather seemed to be stabbing him in the back painfully.

Go on, the researcher said, gently pushing his back. His steps were halting, like a newborn fawn. His first words were trembling violently.