Who was the Old Wolf King? The name alone suggested the leader of some werewolf pack. Could it be that this so-called Wolf King even forbade him from selling pork? How overbearing! Glenn’s thoughts began to drift, and for a moment, he forgot to respond.

  The peculiar lady noticed his distraction and chuckled softly, drawing his attention back to her. “What’s wrong, Mr. Werewolf? Are you frightened? Don’t tell me you believe that with this little strength you’ve gained, you’re suddenly invincible? That Old Wolf King is terrifying, you know — he could take on ten of you without breaking a sweat.”

  Seeing the amused gleam in her eyes, Glenn ignored her provocation. His voice was edged with impatience. “Are you buying it or not?”

  “What?” The strange lady blinked, then her expression twisted into anger. “Are you mocking me?!”

  Glenn rolled his eyes. “Mocking you? How? Either buy it or move aside. Don’t get in the way of my business.”

  His curt tone made her laugh in disbelief. A wild werewolf speaking to her like this? Who did he think he was? She had only approached out of idle curiosity — after all, it was unusual to see a werewolf doing business in a human market. A few teasing words were meant to pass the time, nothing more. Yet this insolent beast had dared to defy her again and again.

  “Filthy lowborn creature! Do you even know who I am?!” Her pupils bled into a vivid crimson as a suffocating murderous aura surged forth, enveloping Glenn.

  But Glenn stood unfazed. He mirrored her earlier gesture, leaning across the counter, meeting her crimson eyes with his own cold stare. His voice struck like iron, each word deliberate and forceful.

  “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

  That final word dropped low, heavy as a demon’s growl, pressing upon her with immense weight.

  “You—!” The strange lady’s chest heaved with fury. Her gloved fingers sank into the wooden counter, claws piercing through with a sharp creak.

  This shouldn’t be happening. Normally, a werewolf of his level would have already been crushed by her killing intent, trembling and kneeling in submission. Yet this man not only resisted — he talked back.

  Just as Glenn braced himself for a fight, the woman suddenly inhaled deeply. The anger vanished from her face, replaced by a faint, mocking smile. “Mr. Werewolf, what is your name?”

  “I thought you were going to start a fight,” Glenn muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Name’s Glenn. Glenn Nibanklu. If you’ve got a problem, you know where to find me.”

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  Her eye twitched. “A fight? Please. I don’t brawl like you crude, lowborn beasts.”

  Still, she repeated his name softly. “Glenn… Very well. I’ll remember it. We’ll meet again.”

  She turned to leave, but Glenn frowned and called out, “Wait — you’re not even going to tell me your name? That’s rather rude.”

  “Rude?!” Her composure cracked again.

  “So? What’s your name?”

  “Murphy! Murphy Elton!”

  Glenn repeated it with a grin. “Easy to remember.”

  “Anything else, Mr. Werewolf?” she asked coldly.

  He unabashedly looked her over from head to toe, until she nearly snapped again. Then he asked in a low voice, “You’re… a vampire, aren’t you?”

  Murphy stiffened, her tone equally strained. “You mean to tell me you still haven’t figured out my race?”

  Glenn nodded.

  Murphy covered her face, clearly exasperated — a gesture most unbecoming for someone like her. “For a werewolf — a species supposedly born to oppose us bloodkin — you’re a complete failure.”

  “So you really are a vampire…” Glenn mused. “Then what are you doing here? Hunting for prey?”

  He tensed, ready to strike if her answer confirmed his suspicion.

  “Who told you our kind must drink human blood?” Murphy countered sharply, glancing around with disgust at the passing townsfolk. “These humans — they hardly ever bathe! Filthy beyond measure! Even their so-called nobles reek of perfume that only worsens the stench of sweat. Utterly revolting! To sink my fangs into such creatures — I’d rather die.

  “I, for one, feed only on beings of magic and purity — the kind worthy of my bloodline’s nobility.”

  Glenn relaxed, chuckling dryly. “Exactly. We lowly, dirty races could never be worthy of you. Best go find something more… fitting.”

  Murphy’s lips curved into a small smirk. “At least you have some sense and self-awareness.”

  With that, she adjusted her elegant hat, lifted her chin, and disappeared into the crowd.

  Glenn watched her until the trace of her scent finally began to fade. He murmured under his breath, “This town… isn’t as peaceful as it looks.”

  The marketplace bustled as dusk approached. Glenn’s cartload of pork was still only half sold. Seeing the dwindling crowd, he decided to call it a day.

  Today’s earnings barely reached a thousand coppers — less than half of the last time. The leftover meat he would have to deal with himself.

  After tidying the stall and tying off the refuse in a sack, Glenn closed his eyes, nostrils flaring slightly as he searched the air for a familiar scent.

  Seconds later, he opened them, whispering, “Found it.”

  He turned his cart and began heading toward his target.

  …

  “Bonnie, please come down and eat something. You can’t keep this up — I’m really worried about you.”

  Inside a modest two-story home, a middle-aged woman stood by the stairs, her face lined with worry.

  “I’m not hungry, Mother. I just want to be alone for a while.” The voice from upstairs was soft, weary — that of a young girl.

  “But sweetheart, you’ll get sick if you don’t eat.”

  “If I get hungry, I’ll come down myself. Don’t worry, Mother. You should eat first.”

  “…All right then.” The woman sighed, lowering her gaze. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened.

  She sat at the table, staring absently at the dark rye bread and bean stew before her, appetite long gone.

  Knock, knock.

  The sound at the door broke her daze. She rose quickly, wondering who might be visiting — perhaps one of her daughter’s friends, as they often came by.

  But when she opened the door, a stranger stood there — a young man she did not recognize. Her body tensed instinctively.

  “Good evening, ma’am,” Glenn greeted politely, his voice steady and clear. “I’m a friend of Bonnie’s. I heard she hasn’t been well lately, so I came to check on her. I hope I’m not intruding.”