Monday
10:12 AM
News spreads fast in a small town, and the mysterious man was no exception.
The café was filled with whispers as the man continued flirting with the innocent baker, while Matt stood behind the counter, anger clearly written on his face.
"I'm sorry, but I need to get back to work now. Your pie costs one don and fifty-five kits," the girl said, glancing around and noticing how crowded the bakery had become.
He handed her the money—the same money he had stolen on his way here—without anyone noticing.
She gave him a polite smile and hurried away, never seeing how the man in love nearly fell to his knees just from that small smile.
"What did he want?"
Lilian flinched at Matt's sudden question. His voice was strangely cold.
"Oh, he just asked about places to visit in town. We talked a little. Don't worry, I'm back to work now," she said with a cheerful smile.
"Good. And don't talk to strangers like that again. Be careful around him."
Lilian only nodded, slightly hesitant.
She liked the strange man a little—but she trusted her close friend.
Even though they were whispering, the monster's wolf senses caught their words. He could feel that the young man disliked him—and the feeling was mutual.
I hope I won't have to kill you. I don't want blood, he thought as he left the bakery, careful not to stay too long and seem suspicious.
He walked through the small town, observing it. People stared at him with strange looks.
That was the problem with his mate living in a small town—people's curiosity toward a newcomer forced him to interact more than he wanted.
Before leaving, he looked back at the bakery and noticed the working hours written on a small wooden board:
8:00 AM – 4:30 PM
Closed on Sunday
His people did not use numbers to tell time. They watched the sun instead.
So he didn't truly understand the times written on the sign, but he hoped it wouldn't be long before he could see her again.
Asking the townspeople would only make them more suspicious. They use those big things… ah, clocks, right? He thought, confused. Gods, I have no idea. Maybe I'll find one to help me.
Desperate to know the time—to figure out when he could see his beloved again—he wandered quickly until he stopped in front of a large clock mounted on a building.
The small hand was on X, and the big hand had passed II, almost reaching III.
"What the hell is this?! This is useless! I thought they used numbers!"
Unable to understand the strange symbols, he decided to visit the tavern his beloved had mentioned—just to pass the time.
His parents had told him about such places.
They sold alcohol, and people there usually got drunk.
He had never seen a drunk person before, so he didn't really know what that meant.
Living as a rogue his entire life made him ignorant of how normal people lived.
But unlike most rogues, he could read—and he was grateful for that.
As soon as he entered the tavern, his wolf senses were hit by the strong smell of alcohol.
It was so thick that he coughed a little. Still, he decided to try the place since he had nothing else to do.
He sat down and looked at the wall filled with writing. The first word that caught his attention was "Whiskey," so he chose that.
The bartender stared at him for a few seconds, clearly confused, but served the drink.
He saw the two small glasses and decided to drink both in one gulp.
The liquid burned his throat, but he liked the feeling—just a little.
Looking around, he noticed only a few people in the tavern—and some of them seemed strange, detached from reality. Not wanting to become like them, he ordered only two more glasses.
But since this was his first time drinking alcohol, he didn't know that four shots were more than enough to get him heavily drunk.
After finishing, he left the tavern. He looked again at the large clock—the big hand had passed V, while the small hand remained on X.
Feeling dizzy and sleepy, he walked back toward the bakery. He didn't understand what was happening to his body, but the moment he saw what was happening inside the bakery, some clarity returned.
He saw a customer deliberately spill his drink, causing Lilian to slip on the wet floor.
Matt quickly caught her before she fell.
The monster froze, intense turmoil filling his heart.
The way Matt held her—and the way she looked at him—made something dark twist inside his chest.
A low growl almost escaped his throat.
No one touches what is mine.
He saw the young man secretly hand money to the customer while Lilian was still in his arms. A deep, angry rumble filled his chest.
I'll kill them both.
Fire flooded his thoughts. That customer and that spoiled boy would pay. She is mine—not yours, idiot!
Rage consumed him, but a clear part of his mind reminded him that attacking now would only scare Lilian.
He didn't want to frighten her.
When no one was watching, he rushed back into the forest. He shifted into his wolf form and ran between the trees, trying to control his anger.
Still, the monster inside him demanded blood.
He felt that the only way to calm it now was to kill those two men—and that it had to happen very soon.
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