Chapter 2: Low Tide

I did not want to expose the ring, or myself, to the scrutiny of the authorities, so I kept declining Nera’s offer every time she brought it up. Not only was I afraid they might confiscate it or question how I had obtained such an object if it proved authentic, but there was also the matter of protecting what little we had left after the onslaught.

Nera and I toured the university’s newly opened building, located a few kilometers from the main gate and our dorm. It was packed with relics, historical records, classic literature, and other preserved pieces of the world as it once was.

Charlotte Hart, the university’s principal, greeted the students as they entered. She thanked everyone for taking an interest in both the school’s history and the city’s past. Despite her reserved appearance, she was anything but timid; in truth, she was stern, intimidating, and sharp-tongued.

Her brows were perfectly shaped, and her short, curly hair swept neatly to one side, framed by bangs. She always wore glossy pink lipstick that matched the two-inch fuchsia heels glittering beneath her feet.

“Just look at Principal Charlotte’s eyes. You wouldn’t even guess she lost all three of her children in the assault five years ago—”

Before Yvar could finish, I pinched his waist. “Stop bringing that up in such an inappropriate way!”

Tickled, Yvar jerked away, then politely asked if he could return to his room to continue gaming with his friends. I nodded, and Nera chuckled before smoothly steering the conversation back to the ring.

“So, what are your intentions regarding that?” she asked, her hands resting on her thighs as she stared down at the thick black antique book sealed behind clear fiberglass. “How long do you want to keep carrying it with you throughout your whole life?”

I leaned closer so we could read together, though I barely processed the text. “I feel like I need to do something about it,” I whispered, “but I don’t know what.”

Nera glanced at me and raised one eyebrow. “Are you hoping to see that werewolf again?”

The question froze me.

Am I?

“You keep asking me that,” I said quietly. “Do you really think I still want to meet him?” A simple yes or no didn’t feel right. I needed help understanding what I truly wanted.

Nera touched my shoulder. “I can see it in your eyes, Lita.” When I met her gaze, mine trembled. The memory of the werewolf leaving without realizing he had lost his ring was too overwhelming to fully process.

That ring could sell for millions. But was any amount of money enough to compensate for the lives lost—especially our parents?

“I don’t know when or how we might meet again,” I murmured. “But maybe…” I swallowed. “What if this ring leads us back to the way we first met?”

To put me at ease, Nera gave me a contemptuous yet velvet smile while shaking her head. I could tell she tried to get along with my thoughts. “If that happens, it will be because they start another war... Again. And I'm sure you all agree that we don't want it to take place.” She showed her disapproval by waving her elbows that was diametrically opposed to one another.

Her phone vibrated. It was her alarm.

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

I turned back to the display. The old black book emitted a sound like distant waves, filling my ears. As I leaned closer to the glass, a crease formed between my brows. I wasn’t imagining it; the sound was real, coming from the book itself.

My eyes focused on the carved lettering on the cover. There was a blurry text that says:

“Gloriosum mayhemum in posterum servabo.”

Below it, in smaller italicized text:

A Werewolf’s Epitome Existence Book.

The smaller script caught my attention. I hurried to the section of the library where similar materials were kept and asked the librarian about it. Unfortunately, she told me that such materials required authorization from the Werewolf Dispatch Corporation.

“How is that fair?” I argued. “Especially with everything we’ve been through because of werewolves?”

“Miss Plasmata,” Vanilla Keymer said sharply, emphasizing, “I have previously informed you that these documents are restricted.” She sighed while stacking returned books.

I clenched my fists. “I’m sorry for pressing, Miss Vanilla, but I need those records.”

“Why?” she scoffed. “Werewolves are dangerous. Why waste your time learning about them?”

I bit my lip. 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 voice, “I just… want to find something out.”

Miss Vanilla's face arched in confusion as she stared at me. “Huh? And what is that, Miss?” The way she addressed me sent a chill through me, leaving me unable to voice what I had meant to say.

“It… doesn’t really have anything to do with you,” I said hesitantly. “I mean—it’s none of your business.” I still managed to sit up straight, shoulders tense.

Everyone in the library turned to stare when Miss Vanilla slammed a heavy encyclopedia onto the table in front of me. The loud bang drew every eye.

“Oops!” she said, covering her mouth in mock surprise. “I’m so sorry,” she added, her apology dripping with sarcasm.

I tilted my head and gave it a small shake before slowly rolling it from side to side.

The librarian stepped closer to the edge of the table and leaned in, whispering in my face. Her grin sent a chill through me. “If you’re truly interested,” she murmured, “why not approach the CEO of WDC for permission? From what I’ve heard, he isn’t difficult to deal with.”

After speaking with her for some time, I found myself walking along the street toward the WDC building. Then, without warning, I felt blood trickling down my leg. My wound had opened once again, for no apparent reason.

I let out a strained breath, my lips parting as the pain escaped me. Rain poured down in sheets, and the streets were empty, leaving me alone to try to stop the bleeding before anyone could see.

Here we go again.