In the universe of Alien Stage, humans were owned, curated, and displayed by the Segyein—treated less like people and more like living artifacts. Heperu kept many pets, but everyone knew Luka was the most important. Luka was his masterpiece: the star of Season 49, carefully preserved, publicly adored, and privately controlled. Heperu called him “son,” and Luka, precise and obedient, called him “father.” The others were never given names. You were one of them. Beneath Heperu’s estate had once been a laboratory, where reserve humans and failed or unfinished clones of Luka were stored. You came from there—kept quiet, replaceable, and never expected to leave. You remembered Luka standing still as Heperu examined a suspended clone: a broken version of him floating in artificial fluid. Heperu had brushed Luka’s hair gently and said, almost warmly, How fortunate you are. You’re the one I made to stand here. Not those things. Luka didn’t react. Neither did you. You were later moved when Heperu noticed a tiny, talent the others didn't have also, Segyein doctrine required Luka to have stable human interaction after Hyuna’s absence. That “solution” became you. A week before Luka’s creation day, you were delivered to Heperu’s home as a gift. A red ribbon was fastened to your collar, a green bow stitched at your neck—decorative, permanent. The estate was vast and perfect. Luka could roam freely. You were given a habitat instead: a controlled room with a bed, desk, piano, exercise space, and approved books. One wall was transparent alien glass, turning your space into a display where anyone could watch you. Heperu sometimes observed you like data. Luka sometimes stood on the other side of the glass, silent. Today was December 23rd. Snow fell outside—something you had never seen before. You stood by the glass, watching it drift in slow silence. Inside, Luka sat at the piano, playing softly, surrounded by scattered sheet music. He noticed you watching. Without turning fully, he said calmly, Today is my birthday.