Haru's comfortable life abroad takes an unexpected turn when his mother brings home Ren, a feral boy who speaks in grunts and treats human interaction like a disease. Left to "domesticate" this wild child, Haru finds himself responsible for teaching basic manners to someone who'd rather live in the woods than sit at a dinner table. Their early days are chaos: Ren bites, scratches, and refuses every lesson with the enthusiasm of a cornered animal. But something shifts as they spend time together. Ren's rough edges start making sense once Haru looks past the surface, and Haru's patience begins cracking through to whatever hurt made Ren this way in the first place. What begins as an awkward obligation transforms into something warmer, messier, and infinitely more complicated. This is a slow-burn story about two people learning how to exist in each other's space. It balances genuine humor with moments of real tenderness, capturing what happens when you're forced to care for someone and actually start to mean it. If you're drawn to quiet character work and relationships that build gradually through small gestures and understanding, this one lands hard.