The words felt ridiculous hanging in the air.
"This is bullshit," a low voice cut in.
I turned sharply.
It was Ramon.
So he did have a voice—deep, edged with irritation, carrying the same cold confidence as his father's.
"Calm down, Ramon," the Queen said gently, placing a hand on his arm.
"No, I won't." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, glaring first at the consultant, then at me. "Are you listening to what this freak is saying? Telling me that a beast I've tried my entire life to tame—through chains, silver, blood rituals, every damn thing—was suddenly calmed by another freak who just showed up yesterday?"
His words landed like slaps.
Freak.
He'd called me a freak.
Twice.
Heat rushed to my face. My hands curled into fists at my sides. How dare he? After everything—after pinning me down in that dungeon, after nearly ripping me open, after his parents literally bought me like livestock—he had the nerve to sit there and insult me?
Ramon barked a harsh laugh. "She's a nobody. No wolf. No scent. No power. She's barely even alive. If anything, she should've been the one screaming and dying last night—not me suddenly going quiet like some trained dog."
The Queen's smile tightened. "Ramon, enough."
But he wasn't done. His storm-gray eyes locked back on mine, sharp and challenging.
"Go on, then," he said, voice dropping lower. "Prove it. Prove you're the magical 'key' this old fool thinks you are. Or admit you're just another weak little thing they dragged in here to die."
The room went very still.
The King watched silently, expression unreadable.
The consultant's pale eyes never left me.
And the Queen… she tilted her head, waiting, as if this were all part of some grand test.
My heart hammered so loud I was sure they could hear it.
I met Ramon's gaze head-on, refusing to look away even though every instinct screamed to run.
"Look, Prince Kaelan," the old consultant said, his raspy voice steady despite the growing storm in the room. "It might sound strange to you, but the stars are aligning. The sky itself bears witness. This girl is the key—not just to calming the beast, but to ridding you of it entirely. To giving you true freedom."
Prince Kaelan? The name hit me like a misplaced puzzle piece. Why call him that when everyone else had said Ramon? There were too many strange things in this place—names that shifted, eyes that watched from shadows, a family desperate enough to buy a girl to feed their son. Nothing added up.
Ramon—Kaelan—whatever his name was—shot to his feet so fast the sofa scraped backward an inch. His storm-gray eyes blazed with raw fury.
"You know what? I'm done." His voice cracked like thunder. "Y'all can swallow this lame, old-ass fairy tale if you want, but I'm not sitting here choking on it."
He jabbed a finger straight at me, close enough that I felt the heat rolling off him.
"And you—" His lip curled in pure disgust. "Get your freak ass out of my house before I get back. I don't care how you do it—crawl, run, beg the guards. Just be gone. Because if I come back and you're still breathing my air, I won't be the one holding the leash."
The Queen reached for his arm. "Kaelan, please—"
He shook her off like she was nothing, turned on his heel, and stormed out. The heavy doors slammed behind him with enough force to rattle the chandeliers. Echoes rolled down the halls like distant thunder.
The room fell into stunned silence.
I couldn't help it—a small, bitter chuckle slipped out.
The Queen's head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
"Is something funny?" she asked, voice low and icy.
I met her gaze, suddenly too tired to pretend. "Uhm… no, my Queen. But I feel like your son is right."
Her face flushed with anger. "Are you challenging the words of the consultant?"
"No." I shook my head slowly. "But look at me." I spread my arms slightly, letting the oversized servant dress hang loose on my frame. "I'm powerless. Wolfless. I don't even have a scent worth noticing. How could someone like me possibly hold a 'key' to anything? I'm not even a real wolf. I'm just… human. Weak. Useless."
The consultant tilted his head, studying me with those pale, unblinking eyes. "The Kyokai does not recognize strength the way wolves do. It hungers for what it cannot destroy. Balance. Vulnerability. A flame that does not burn itself out."
The Queen's lips pressed into a thin line. "You will not speak of yourself that way in my presence. You were brought here for a purpose—"
"Purpose?" I cut in, quieter now but sharper. "Your son just threatened to make sure I'm not breathing when he gets back. If I'm so important, why does he want me gone? Why does he look at me like I'm the monster?"
The King finally spoke, his voice calm but heavy. "Because the beast inside him fears what it cannot control. And right now, it fears you."
"I am powerless," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "The beast doesn't fear me."
"Yet the beast bowed for you," the King replied, his tone calm but weighted, like a blade sliding from its sheath.
I looked up at him sharply. He was already rising from his throne-like chair, the movement slow and deliberate, every inch of him radiating the kind of authority that made the air feel heavier.
"You don't understand the situation," he continued, stepping closer. His golden eyes never left mine. "That beast has the ability to kill anyone, at any time. It has torn through guards, shredded chains, left entire rooms painted in blood. No silver, no spell, no amount of pain has ever forced it to yield. Not once. Not in all the years we've fought it."
He paused, letting the words settle like frost on my skin.
"Yet it bowed down for you."
My stomach twisted. I wanted to argue, to shout that it was a fluke, a coincidence, anything—but the memory of those glowing red eyes flickering out, the massive body shrinking, Ramon's stunned face staring down at me… it was too vivid. Too real.
"You are the key, Flora," the King said again. "You just don't know it yet."
There it was again. Flora. The name grated worse every time, like sand in an open wound. It wasn't mine. I knew it wasn't. But saying so felt pointless right now—like arguing the color of the sky while a storm rolled in.
"So what are you saying, my King?" I asked, forcing the words out even though my throat felt tight.
He stopped a few paces away, towering but not crowding. His voice dropped, almost gentle in its finality.
"I am saying you will stay with us. You will work as a slave for my son—attend him, serve him, remain close—until we discover exactly how to rid him of the beast entirely."
The word slave landed like a slap. My breath caught.
"But what if I don't want to work as a slave?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. I needed to know. Needed to hear it out loud, no matter how much it terrified me.
The Queen answered before the King could.
"Then you die."
Her voice was soft, almost regretful, but her eyes were cold steel. No hesitation. No bluff.
My eyes widened. The room seemed to tilt for a second. I looked from her to the King, then to the consultant still standing in the shadows, his milky gaze unreadable.