[Many times, I felt that my work was not all that different from a beast Warden's.
They said that when facing savage beasts, experienced beast Wardens would always deliver a slap, then feed them a date—first establishing deterrence, then granting trust.
Of course, I was not making that up. After all, in a memory that did not exist, I had seen a beast Warden who seemed to have raised such a wild leopard.
Its agile body was sleek and beautiful, and it was the undisputed king of its kind.
He had once shattered that ruler's pride and placed shackles upon it.
Then he granted it absolute trust, helping the cheetah reclaim its glory.
So the cheetah pounced on him, expressing their intimacy through licking.
But it was, after all, a savage beast. Even if it retained reason and gentleness, its claws would inevitably tug open its master's clothes by accident, leaving bite marks across his flesh.
He would feel pain, but he had to display the grace of a beast Warden, so he was always willing to indulge the cheetah.
Yet as bruise after bruise was scratched across his body, until the cheetah's forcefulness threatened to break his waist—he finally voiced all his anger and declared his ownership.
Only then did the cheetah realize its transgression. Yet its lingering pride always made it struggle, unwilling to submit once more to another's restraints.
So the beast Warden intended to withdraw and let the cheetah leave freely.
But their long-standing bond had made the cheetah accustomed to the beast Warden's presence. In humiliation, it growled weakly and spoke of the reluctance in its heart.
The beast Warden stayed amid its pleas and whimpers, but he knew he had to guard against the beast growing arrogant again. So he loosened his belt, used