Elaine Keane, nicknamed Forsythia by her Packmates, carried a name that sounded more like an experimental compound in a laboratory than that of a girl. But strangely, it suited her. Elaine was pursuing modern medical science: a world of data, clinical models, and cutting-edge biotechnology that most ancient Packs still viewed as cold and alien.
In the Ravenhowl Pack's internal files, they even used a slang transcription for her - Kunching, short, sharp, and bold, exactly like the impression she made whenever she walked into any room: quick, direct, and utterly without hesitation.
At just twenty, Elaine had entered the research program at the Aurelius Institute of Medical Sciences. Half Ravenhowl by blood, half Nightclaw, she had always felt as though she lived between two worlds. Since childhood, Elaine had been drawn to Nightclaw's culture, wild, instinctive, free. So after graduating, despite her family's objections, she turned down Harvard and chose Aurelius instead, the academy that the werewolf elite considered the domain of those determined to shatter tradition.
But no matter how hard she tried to escape restraints, she could never outrun the shadow of her lineage: the beloved granddaughter of the Nightclaw royal family, the mischievous "little witch" that the entire Pack adored.
…
Waterlight Tavern,
Waterlight Tavern sat on a street illuminated by rows of azure glass lamps in Moonveil City, their reflections shimmering on the rainwater pooled across the pavement, making the entire district appear submerged in a mystical silver-blue glow. From the outside, the tavern looked like an old European pub, gray stone walls, dark wooden doors, and a tarnished brass sign weathered by time. But stepping through that heavy door revealed an entirely different world.
Inside, the dim warmth was lit by lamps designed to mimic arc-flame fire, stretching shadows along the walls so they flickered and breathed with the tavern's rhythm. The air carried the mingled scents of oakwood, dark beer, and a faint metallic tang aromas a werewolf could distinguish more sharply than any human. Low jazz murmured from an antique speaker, blending with the soft clinking of glass to create an atmosphere both soothing and subtly charged.
Waterlight Tavern was the chosen refuge of those who did not wish to be seen rogue wolves avoiding their Packs, exiled witches, and even powerful Alphas who needed somewhere discreet to discuss matters best left in the dark. The owner, a man with icy blue eyes, always knew exactly who should be welcomed and who should be turned away before they crossed the threshold.
No one said it outright, but everyone understood:
Waterlight Tavern was the only neutral territory among the three great Packs of Moonveil.
A place where even the fiercest enemies were forced to lower their voices, for here, laws belonged neither to humans nor to any Pack but to the tavern itself.
Elaine propped her cheek on her hand, watching the sky outside shift from steel-gray to full darkness. It wasn't until the lounge door swung open that a familiar voice rang out:
"Elaine! So you were hiding here!"
Claire, panting for breath, leaned against the doorframe like she'd just found a missing child.
Elaine tore her gaze away from the night. "Hm? Is it evening already?" She yawned and lightly slapped her cheeks to wake herself up.
"What on earth are you doing here?" Claire rushed over, shaking her by the shoulders. "I've been racking my brain coming up with excuses to cover for you! Everyone's been looking for you! Sure, your brain is the genius type, but if you keep skipping class, you'll scare the professors to death come exam season!"
Elaine pouted. "I'm waiting for someone. The guy you set me up with. And besides… I already met him."
Claire froze. "You WHAT? Then where is he?"
Elaine shrugged. "He told me to wait while he took a phone call. Said it was urgent. Hasn't come back since."
Claire's eyes bulged. She knocked Elaine on the head. "Oh my god, ancestors of all wolfkind! That means he RAN AWAY! And you've been sitting here waiting until nighttime!? Is this your first arranged meeting or something!?"
Elaine replied slowly, "Uh… it is my first, actually."
But then something sharp flickered in her eyes, a typical sign of her Ravenhowl blood stirring.
"Hmph! He dared ditch me? He better pray we never meet again."
Claire saw that "revenge" look and frantically waved her hands. "Calm down! If your grandfather finds out you'll turn this into a feud, he'll have a heart attack!"
Elaine snorted and dropped back into her seat, her violet eyes, an enigmatic legacy of her royal bloodline glittering like glass whenever she was angry, excited, or plotting mischief.
"Claire, tell me… what's so high and mighty about that Lancaster heir? Is he really that exalted? Am I unworthy of him or something? Just hearing the word 'arranged meeting' and he refuses right away! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even bother with blind dates!"
Claire leaned back, staring at Elaine with a mix of envy and exasperation.
"You're lucky, Elaine. So many people would kill for a chance to be matched with Alain Lancaster, the CEO of the Lancaster Group. If I got to see him once, I'd be happy even if I turned into dust afterward."
Elaine's temper flared instantly. "What's so great about him? I bet he's just some potbellied man pretending to be sophisticated!"
Claire corrected her: "That's called reputation, not 'fake prestige,' dear lord."
Elaine flicked her hand dismissively. "Whatever. I'll find someone a thousand times better, here in Moonveil or in Westbridge Haven and make him furious! Furious enough to foam at the mouth and shed fur!"
Claire sighed. "Elaine, even if you find the perfect man, Alain still won't care. He avoids media entirely. The Four Werewolf Tycoons are like that avoiding attention, avoiding scandals. Reporters chase them like holy relics."
Elaine bit her lip, her violet eyes dimming.
Claire softened. "Hey… why the sudden gloom?"
Elaine slumped over the table. "Claire… tell me honestly… am I even someone people would like? That pig-headed guy didn't even bother showing up…"
Claire blinked. "Pig-headed who?"
Elaine rolled her eyes. "The stupid Lancaster guy, my fiancé on paper, duh!"
Claire burst out laughing. "Who says Elaine isn't lovable? Anyone would like you! You're basically Helen reborn!"
"Helen who?" Elaine blinked. "Wait… do you mean… that bug or whatever?"
Claire smacked the table. "BUG!? I meant Helen of Troy! Legendary beauty! Oh my god, don't tell me you misunderstood this whole time!"
Elaine, heir to half the Keane royal bloodline of the Nightclaw Pack, had one fatal weakness: she was nearly hopeless at foreign languages. Everything she read in the common tongue blended together like alphabet soup. She had just mistaken a legendary beauty for… a worm. A worm.
"For the love of the ancestors, you troublesome wolf pup!" Claire clutched her forehead. "Helen of Troy is the symbol of human beauty, not the name of some insect! If you blurt nonsense out there, you'll embarrass the entire Pack!"
"Huh?" Elaine covered her mouth, giggling, completely unaware of her mistake. "But it sounds like 'larva,' doesn't it? A legend that sounds like a worm kinda funny!"
"That's because it's a legendary name, not a worm name!" Claire retorted, then gave up entirely. "Alright, my little chaos wolf, we're going back to campus. Because of you, my conduct points are going down the drain!"
Elaine shrugged, violet eyes gleaming with mischief. "And that damned guy online too. I swear I'll find him and shred him to pieces!"
The way she smiled… was slightly concerning.