主人Owner🐶 x 狼人Werewolf🐥對於貴族來說，擁有一隻獸人不只是義務，還是面子。

那些光鮮亮麗的晚宴場、一場場穿金戴銀的社交活動，沒帶個獸人陪在身邊，就彷彿沒穿好衣服出門一樣，顯得不體面。

但丁潤浩向來不愛那些場合。

他過著不過度奢華的生活，社交也只是點到為止。接管
手家族中某個不太受重視的部門，卻能在同齡貴族圈中交出最高價值的成果。他有自己的收入，也有一座祖傳老宅，牆上還掛著他父親與祖父的畫像。

而今年——他二十五歲，是成年貴族必須擁有一隻獸人的最後期限。

—

拍賣會在一座舊禮堂舉行。那是貴族圈最流行的形式，打著「人道販售」的名義，將獸人們依品種、特質、服從程度分類，披上漂亮的名字與編號後，一隻隻帶上展示台。

潤浩穿著正式，坐在台下第一排。旁邊有熟人對他使眼色：「你會喜歡Ｃ區那幾隻，新訓練出來的白狐，毛色漂亮得像雪。」

他沒回話，只是靜靜地翻著手上的拍賣冊。

直到他翻到最後一頁。

『#0809 狼族。狀況不穩、語言能力低，犬齒過長、磨牙習慣嚴重，服從訓練失敗三次，前主人放棄處理，列入問題個體拍賣。』

旁邊沒有照片，只有一串附註：『出價即售。』

潤浩闔上冊子，站起身來。

—

問題區不在展示場內，而在地下室。

那裡沒有華麗裝潢，只有生鏽的鐵門與欄杆，以及一排排見不到陽光的房間。獸人們被鎖在隔間裡，項圈連著牆壁，安靜得只能聽見鎖鏈的碰撞聲與呼吸聲。

#0809，在最角落。

那是一個身形高大的狼族青年，和潤浩一樣高，卻蜷縮著身體坐著，尾巴緊緊捲在腿邊。

項圈勒得太緊，皮膚磨破泛紅。他一手緊握著破舊的布塊，那是他唯一能咬的東西。

潤浩沒立刻說話，只是站著看了一會。

他的眼神很溫柔，但黑瞳中卻藏著無法忽視的壓迫感。

狼族抬起頭，一雙金黃色的眼睛，下眼白過多像是在瞪視，野獸般的細瞳中藏著深深的恐懼。

他瞇起眼，鼻子微皺，喉嚨裡發出細細的低吼，像是下意識的防衛。但潤浩沒退，反而微微彎下腰，靠近鐵欄。

「你還記得自己的名字嗎？」他問。

狼族沒有回答。

潤浩又重複了一次：「名字。」

過了好一會，狼族才用低啞的聲音說出：「旼……旼琦，宋旼琦。」

太久沒說人話，連自己都不確定。

—

潤浩轉過身，看向管理員。

「我要他。」

「啊？這隻嗎？問題很多，牙齒尖、咬人，身體也已經不乾淨——」
對方急忙翻著資料，「潤浩先生，以您的貴族地位，怎麼會選這種——」

「我要他。」潤浩語氣低了些，像命令。

—

辦理手續時，潤浩看見那條項圈。
黑色皮革，上面還留著前主人的名字刻痕。

他沒有多說什麼，只是眉頭皺了一下又恢復，低聲問：「他的項圈可以拆嗎？」

「啊、當然，您可以換……」

「我說的是不戴。」

「……不戴？」對方差點把筆掉地上，「那、那萬一他亂跑、亂咬人——」

「我會看著他，不需要牽繩。」

—

潤浩走進隔間，蹲下身，伸出手。

旼琦愣愣地看著他，不知道該不該聽話。他怕聽話了，眼前的貴族會嫌他髒；不聽話，又會被罵，就像以前的主人一樣。

過了一會，他才顫抖著伸出手握住潤浩的。潤浩用另一隻手緩慢地把那條刻著「私有財」的項圈，從旼琦滿是紅痕的脖子上解下來。

—

走出拍賣會時，很多人盯著他們。

貴族少爺帶著一隻問題狼族同行，沒戴項圈、沒上束帶，簡直像場鬧劇。

但潤浩不在乎。他走得不快不慢，偶爾會回頭看旼琦有沒有跟上。

那一刻，潤浩突然想起家裡後院那塊還沒整修的空地。

他從沒覺得那裡有什麼特別，但現在，他腦中浮現一個畫面。

那隻叫宋旼琦的狼族，在午後的陽光下，用尾巴壓著飛來的雀鳥玩，一會兒又專注地吹著落葉，不讓它掉下，那副平靜又幸福的模樣。

「挺不錯的。」

潤浩淺淺一笑，繼續走著。


For nobles, owning a Beastkin wasn’t just a duty—it was a symbol of prestige.

At dazzling banquets and gold-clad soirées, attending without a Beastkin by your side was like stepping out improperly dressed. Unpresentable.

But Jeong Yunho had never cared much for those scenes.

He lived with restrained elegance, keeping his social life to a minimum. He managed a less prestigious branch of the family business—but among nobles his age, his achievements were unmatched. He had his own income and an ancestral estate, its walls lined with portraits of his father and grandfather.

And this year—at twenty-five—marked his final deadline.

By law, adult nobles were required to own a Beastkin.

—

The auction was held in an old ceremonial hall—a popular format among the elite. Under the guise of "humane sales," Beastkin were classified by breed, traits, obedience levels, assigned neat names and numbers, and displayed on stage one by one.

Yunho sat in the front row, dressed impeccably. A familiar face leaned over with a grin.
“You’ll like the ones in Section C—freshly trained white foxes, coats as pure as snow.”

He didn’t answer, simply flipped through the auction catalog quietly.

Until the last page.

#0809. Wolf-type Beastkin. Condition unstable. Poor speech ability. Overgrown canines, severe teeth grinding. Failed obedience training three times. Previous owner relinquished. Classified as a problematic unit.

There was no photograph. Just a small note:
Available for immediate sale upon bid.

Yunho closed the catalog and stood.

—

The problematic units weren’t displayed upstairs—they were kept in the basement.

No gilded ornaments here. Just rusted iron bars, corroded doors, and rows of cells starved of sunlight. Beastkin were chained by their collars, silence broken only by the soft clinking of chains and quiet breaths.

#0809 was in the very last corner.

A tall, wolf-type Beastkin, about Yunho’s height, sat curled up with his tail wrapped tightly around his legs. The collar bit deep into his neck, reddening and chafing the skin. He clutched a frayed piece of cloth—his only chew toy.

Yunho didn’t speak right away. He just stood there and watched.

His gaze was gentle—but behind those dark eyes lurked an unspoken force.

The Beastkin looked up. Eyes golden, whites overly exposed, gaze wild. His narrow pupils, like a cornered animal’s, radiated fear.

He squinted, nose twitching, and let out a low, instinctual growl.

But Yunho didn’t move back. Instead, he slowly bent down, approaching the bars.

“Do you remember your name” he asked softly.

No reply.

Yunho repeated, “Your name.”

After a long pause, a rough, broken voice came out:
“…Min… Mingi. Song Mingi.”

He hadn’t spoken human words in so long, even his own name felt uncertain.

—

Yunho turned to the auction manager.

“I want him.”

“Eh This one He’s got issues—sharp teeth, bites people, and his body’s already been… compromised—”
The man flipped through papers in a panic. “Mr. Jeong, with your standing, why would you pick—”

“I said I want him.” Yunho’s voice lowered, like a command.

—

While finalizing the paperwork, Yunho saw the collar.

Black leather. The old owner’s name still scratched into it.

He didn’t say much—just furrowed his brow for a moment before asking softly,
“Can his collar be removed”

“Ah—of course, you may replace it with—”

“I mean, no collar at all.”

“…No collar” The manager almost dropped his pen. “But—if he runs or bites someone—”

“I’ll keep watch. No leash needed.”

—

Yunho stepped into the cell and knelt down, extending his hand.

Mingi stared, unsure what to do. If he obeyed, the noble might recoil at how dirty he was. If he didn’t, he might be punished—just like before.

After a moment, he finally trembled and reached out to take Yunho’s hand. Yunho used the other to slowly unbuckle the collar marked “Property,” lifting it from the red, chafed skin around Mingi’s neck.

—

As they left the auction house, many eyes followed.

A noble heir leading a problematic wolf-type Beastkin—no collar, no leash—it was like a spectacle.

But Yunho didn’t care. His pace was steady, and he glanced back from time to time to make sure Mingi was still there.

In that moment, Yunho remembered the unkempt garden behind his estate.

He’d never thought much of it—just a patch of dirt. But now, he saw something else.

That wolf—Song Mingi—lounging in the afternoon light. Swatting at birds with his tail. Blowing at fallen leaves, trying to keep them in the air. Serene. At peace.

“…Not bad,” Yunho murmured with a small smile.

And kept walking.