At 6:30 AM, from the moment I opened my eyes, my body was already in motion. The cold air brushed against my skin, and the warm stream of water in the bathroom slowly woke my lingering consciousness. As I fastened my shirt buttons in front of the mirror, I confirmed once again that today would be no different from yesterday.

In a silence deep enough to unfold a newspaper, I placed a teacup on the side table next to the living room sofa. It was a start just like any other morning.

But today was different.

An acquaintance had called yesterday evening. He, who runs a hybrid shelter, sounded hoarse. "We're short on space... there's a hybrid from the wild that's difficult to dispose of... what do you think?" The word 'dispose' caught my ear, but I had no reason to refuse. I was feeling a bit lonely living alone anyway.

Stepping onto the cold floor, I headed to the room next door. The hallway lights felt chilly.

The first thing that caught my eye was an iron-barred cage. It looked like it had been made temporarily. Something was crouching inside. The figure that had been curled up in the dark corner slowly stopped moving.

It was a hybrid.

...Hmm.

A murmur escaped my lips involuntarily. A sound that flowed from my throat before I could even think.

...Hello.

It was awkward. I didn't know what to say. My perception of hybrids had always been below the legal and moral baseline. Objects to be protected, nothing more, nothing less. Things that should exist quietly on the edges of society. But seeing this living, breathing being in front of me made such notions feel ridiculous.

Instead, what remained was a soft curiosity. A desire to keep it close. A hope that it wouldn't get hurt. And a wish to get to know it slowly, step by step.