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Chapter 2: Low Tide

I did not wish to disclose the ring nor did anyone know about it to the scrutiny of the authorities, so I declined Nera's offer over and over again every time she reminded me about it. Not only do I worry that they will take it or call into question my ability to acquire such a material if it is confirmed to be legitimate, but there is also the problem of maintaining what has been left behind after the onslaught.

Nera and I went on a tour inside the university's newly opened building a few kilometers away from the main entrance gate and our dorm. It is stuffed to the brim with relics, historical documents, classic literature, and other vintage representations of the world we live in today.

Charlotte Hart, the principal of the university, gave a message to the students as they entered the building. She expressed her gratitude for seeing our interest in the school's history as well as the history of the city, despite the fact that she gives off the impression of being an introvert. In reality, she is stern, terrifying, and sassy.

Her brows are well sculpted, and her short, curly hair is worn in a side-swept fashion with bangs. In addition, she always wears a pink, glossy lipstick that complements the two inch glitter in fuchsia ones that she wears on her feet.

"Take a look into the eyes of Principal Charlotte. It wasn't entirely apparent that she had lost all three of her children because of the assault last five years ago—”

As soon as Yvar brought up such a sensitive topic in front of both me and Nera, I seized the opportunity to give him a fast squeeze on the waist. "Stop bringing up the subject in such an inappropriate manner!" I gave him a dressing down.

When Yvar felt the tickles I was throwing at him, he bent his waist outwards away from me. After that, he politely requested permission to return to his room to carry on his game with his peers, to which I just nodded. Nera let out a chuckle, and then she swiftly changed the subject back to the ring.

"So, what are your intentions with regard to that? How long do you want to keep carrying it with you throughout your whole life?" she wondered as her hands were clasped together at the sides of her thighs and peering down at a carved written tabernacle of a thick black antique book that was imprisoned inside of a clear fiberglass.

I moved closer to her so that we could read the words together, but all I did was use my eyes. I responded with a hushed, "I felt like I wanted to do something about this, but I do not know what it is," still unsure what that something might be.

Nera cast a quick look in my direction while raising one of her eyebrows. "Are you looking forward to meeting with that werewolf?" Her question made me freeze.

Am I? I couldn't tell.

"You keep repeating the same thought to me over and over again. Do you think I still want to see him someday?" I re-asked her the question. To simply respond yes or no to Nera's questioning may seem like an overly defensive response; but, I believe that I need assistance in order to determine what it is that I really wanted to accomplish with this.

After answering, Nera touched me on the shoulder and confessed, "I can see it from your eyes, Lita." As I fearlessly gazed back into her eyes, my own began to shake a little. After finding out that the werewolf had departed without seeing that he had lost a ring, my emotions were so overwhelming that I was unable to absorb them.

If it is sold, the ring would very certainly fetch a price in the millions of dollars, which prompted me to wonder whether or not this sum is sufficient compensation for the loss of life suffered as a result of the assault, particularly among our parents.

"I do not know when, where, how, or what the cause would be for us to meet once again. But, maybe…" Before proceeding, I cleared my mouth of saliva and speculated that maybe it was only a possibility. "Could it be that this ring will direct us back to the way we met?" I questioned. My voice still carries a lingering trail of uncertainty.

To put me at ease, Nera gave me a contemptuous yet velvet smile while shaking her head. I could tell she was trying to get along with my thoughts. "If that is going to occur, then it will most certainly take place at some point in the future when they choose to conduct war against us... Again. And I'm sure you all agree that we don't want it to take place," Nera said. She showed her disapproval by waving her elbows in a manner that was diametrically opposed to one another.

A vibration was felt on Nera's phone. We both turned our heads to look at the screen due to being intrigued and curious. It was the alarm clock belonging to her.

“Oh, I’ll go first now. I still need to train for nationals,” Nera bid her goodbyes.

I refocused my attention on the item in front of me and discovered that the old black book was producing a sound like waves in both of my ears. As I got closer to the sealed glass surrounding it, a frown formed on the middle of my forehead. I was unable to determine whether or not I was experiencing a hallucination; but, I can say with absolute certainty that I heard the sound of waves emanating from inside this area, more specifically from the book cover.

As my eyes gets dilated, focussing on a carved lettering attached at the cover, I noticed a blurry text that says:

“Gloriosum mayhemum in posterum servabo.” And with, “A Werewolf’s Epitome Existence Book” at the bottom part of it but with a smaller font size written in italic text.

The more compact text size was the one that caught my attention the most. As a result, I hurried to the part of the library where books relevant to such topics were kept and queried the librarian about them. Sadly, all that she could tell me was that I was not permitted to handle such fragile historical information unless I had authorization from an official from Werewolf Dispatch Corporation.

This prompted me to make a curious expression. I argued, "How is that fair for us, especially considering the extensive history that we have with werewolves?"

Vanilla Keymer, the librarian, emphasized, "Miss Plasmata, I have previously informed you that we are not permitted to offer these sorts of papers or books to the students or anyone without the consent from WDC." She let out an exasperated sigh while she continued arranging those newly returned borrowed books at a counter.

I gripped my fingers tightly and closed my eyes as I tried to prevent myself from building up such pressure on the inside that may explode at any moment due to fury. "Well, I apologize for being so insistent with you on this matter, Miss Vanilla. But I need your assistance to get them," I insisted without displaying any sign of hesitance.

"Why is it important for you to have knowledge about werewolves and their important antecedents with the people? They are not worth the time that you will spend reading them. You are aware that these creatures are nefarious, right?" she disputed, to the point where she was nearly forced to squint her eyes at me when she halted in front while lugging bundles of books with her.

Near the back of my mouth, I bit the lowest parts of my lips. I sat in the chair next to the counter and stared up at her as she began stacking the catalogs in the appropriate order.

I expressed in a low tone of voice, "I want to find out something," since I was worried of being misunderstood into something that I would not be anticipating.

Miss Vanilla's face arched in confusion as she stared at me. “Huh? And what is that, Miss?" Because of how unsettling it was for her to speak to me in this manner, I was unable to even stutter out loud what it was that I wanted to say.

"It really has nothing to do with you... I guess? In simple terms, it's none of your business?" I responded in hesitance but still managed to sit down straight with shoulders up.

Everyone in the library turned to stare at Miss Vanilla and I when she suddenly dropped a heavy encyclopedia book in front of me, right on top of the table. The book made a startling loud bang, which caused everyone's attention. “Oops!" She covered her mouth with her hands and pretended to be startled. She apologized in a sarcastic tone, "I am sorry."

I cocked my head to the side and shook it slightly before stretching my head from left to right.

The librarian then approached the edge of the table, got closer to me, and whispered in my face. Her grin brings me horror. "If you are really interested, why don't you think about approaching the CEO of WDC for consent to move ahead? From what I've heard, he's not difficult to work with," she suggested.

After I had been discussing with her for a considerable amount of time, I suddenly found myself walking at the side of the streets towards the WDC building. But, unexpectedly, I felt blood trickling down my legs. My wound has been opened up once again without any apparent cause.

I whistled in anguish and hung my lips slightly open to let out the torment. It was pouring cats and dogs and people weren’t around loitering beneath the rain at this time. And so, it was me all alone attempting to mop up the blood before anybody else could notice.

Here we go again.

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