03: I'm Perfect

Irene stared at her reflection on the mirror hanging on the wall. She was wearing the gown given to her by the hoodie girl, along with a few accessories that Desmond had once gifted her.

Her wavy light brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her face was lightly painted with makeup to enhance her features. Her look was refreshing and beautiful.

If one was able to ignore the dirty white sneakers on her feet, they would realize that she almost looked like someone from a classy pack.

Irene tried not to look at her own feet. She convinced herself that the state of the sneakers didn’t matter as she was too clumsy to walk on heels that she didn’t even own.

“Okay. This is perfect. I’m perfect,” she said to her reflection on the mirror with a bright smile on her maroon-painted lips.

‘Are you sure you are?’ A small voice in the back of Irene’s head questioned.

The smile on her lips faltered.

“I-I am!” She nodded her head in strong belief. Then she covered her ears with her palms and yelled, “I’m perfect! I’m perfect! I’m perfect! I’m perfect!”

That was enough to chase the pessimistic voice away and fill her heart with positivity. Irene then moved to the bed where she and Desmond had spent countless happy nights together.

She effortlessly lifted the mattress to reveal an aligned arrangement of old hardcover books with blurry titles. She picked up the one closest to her and let down the mattress.

These old books were the only things that her late father had left behind which hadn’t been taken away from her and couldn’t be sold.

Irene flipped through the pages and stopped when she got to a familiar page. The texts in the entire book were written in a language that Irene couldn’t name but was able to read.

As stupid as she was, Irene didn’t need anyone to inform her that these books were spell books with actual working spells. She discovered it years ago, but limited her use of the spell book for obvious reasons.

She was a werewolf, not a witch.

It wasn’t normal to have spell books and use them to cast spells, that much she knew.

However, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Irene envisioned the hall in which the mating ball would be taking place from the posts she’d seen online by the attendees.

Then she glanced at the page of the book set in front of her, cramming the important words in her head. Irene quickly lifted the mattress again and returned the book to its original space.

“Phew…” she sighed through her mouth before closing her eyes totally.

“Duce me ad destinatum quod quaero.” Irene said monotonously.

Her body immediately felt light as air surrounded her. Irene kept her eyes closed, enduring the tingles that ran down her spine in the process of the spell coming together.

She began to count to thirty in her head. After reaching number thirty, she opened her eyes.

Multiple bright colors exploded in her vision, almost sending her blind. Irene closed her eyes instantly and sucked in a deep breath.

‘I always forget to add an additional ten to my countdown,’ Irene said internally, facepalming herself.

When she opened her eyes again, the world and its colors became stable. She was standing at the corner of a grand hall whose walls were painted striking white and ceilings were covered in glass chandeliers.

“Whoa…” Irene’s jaw hung in the air as she admired the scenery.

The floors were tiled with polished black and white diagonals. The seating arrangement was impeccable. There was an uplifted platform where small circular tables were drafted with white linen, and the people seated there gave off serious vibes.

Irene was able to get a good view of the hall from her spot, noticing the elegantly dressed people dancing gracefully. The music was so cultured.

Irene found a live band of violinists and woodwind instrumentalists at one side, living up the ball. She stepped out from the place she was standing and noticed that there was a throne-like chair planted at the very end of the hall.

However, it was empty. There were still five people standing around in it, guarding.

‘Whoa. That must be where the alpha of Jupiter Pack sits,’ Irene whoaed again in her head.

‘What an annoying big shot. Hmph.’

Her wonder died quickly when she remembered that it was technically his fault that Desmond rejected her. If he hadn’t thrown this ball, Desmond wouldn’t have gotten an invite and decided to leave her.

Speaking of Desmond… it was time to find him. Irene was sure that when she met him and explained her perspective to him, explained that she was better in every possible way and ready to be with him no matter what, he’d accept her again.

And they would find a way to mend their broken mate bond. Everything would be perfect again.

Irene became serious as she began to parade the hall like she belonged in it. But it was too clear to the attendees whom she walked past that she did not belong at the ball.

Her style of walking was one angle to judge her. The next was her shoes. The last was how she ate up snacks and downed wine glasses from every server who passed by her.

Irene thought she was being inconspicuous with her behavior as she dashed to the uplifted platform where the VIPs resided. She had no idea that her whole being was anything but inconspicuous.

As she downed the wine glass in her hand and was about to return it to the server, she bumped into someone. It was a gorgeous woman with curly hair who was wearing an expensive-looking puffy red dress.

“How dare–”

“Sorry,” Irene quickly interrupted. Her glass was already empty so the lady’s dress wasn’t stained.

However, the manner in which the lady condescendingly gazed at Irene, one would think that Irene had dirtied her dress with mud. Irene’s stomach coiled with discomfort under that gaze but since she was used to receiving such a look, she repressed her discomfort.

Irene muttered another apology and dashed to the short steps leading up to the platform. There, a large man dressed in a black suit blocked her way. The frown on his face seemed to be permanently tattooed, and his black eyes were narrowed to a glare.

“This is a VIP area, ma’am. Please, return to the main floor,” the man, obviously a guard, addressed her indifferently.

Irene frowned. “How do you know I’m not a VIP?”

She pulled out her invite from the small purse she brought along with her, then flashed it in front of the guard’s stony face.

“I’m a maiden! Can’t you tell?” Irene spoke with a smug tone.

The guard was skeptical about her claim and said, “Where did you get that from?”

Irene gasped dramatically, unconsciously calling attention to herself.

“What’s your business with that? It’s mine. Now, let me in!” she demanded boldly.

Irene was not the type to get drunk easily, so it couldn’t be certain if she was acting bold because of the influence of the wine she downed before getting here.

“I ask again, where did you get that from?” The stone-faced guard didn’t budge an inch.

By this time, the live band had already stopped playing music, and most of the guests were watching Irene embarrass herself.

“I said, it’s mine! How many times am I going to–”

“Irene?” A familiar masculine voice spoke over Irene’s words, causing her to close her mouth.

Irene peeked behind the large guard, and her eyes lit up as she saw the person she came looking for.