Don’t Buy a Beastman on a Whim

My dad became nouveau riche by selling fish. And just like that, I rocketed into the circle of socialites. At an auction, I went on a revenge-spending spree and bought the most expensive item there. It was a person. Alive. Male. With animal ears. Pale and beautiful, like a fragile porcelain doll. That night, the organizers delivered him to my room, their tone loaded with innuendo. “This model is a Vent-type Beastman. No matter how you play with him, he won’t break. He can take it rough…” The man’s eyes were red. “I’m nothing more than your Little Pet. You can play with me however you want.” I looked at the man kneeling on the floor, restrained by a bite guard, and my heart ached. He cost me a hundred million yuan. How would I dare break him? So I ended up worshipping my Little Pet like he was some kind of immortal. After taking care of him for so long, he still had that fragile air about him, but at least he finally didn’t look like he might keel over at any second. I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Only for him to pin me down on the sofa that very night. “Big Sister, I’m so fragile. If you won’t let me touch you, I’m going to die.”