CHAPTER 3: THE MOST HANDSOME MAN

No! - I want to say, but the word won’t come out. 

My feet move before my mind can catch up. I follow the handsome man inside the luxurious shop, as if he’s a spell casted on me.

The man turns to his sister and says, “You may find a dress for the ball in this shop too, why don’t you look around so you won’t get bored?”

His sister draws a long sigh. “I already have a dress, made by the best designer in the kingdom. So, if I were you, just give her money and let’s just go.”

“I won’t do that,” the man teases, turning his back on her.

The two are clearly highborns wolves from a wealthy pack. Their clothes, their speech—it was all too polished. Yet they don’t look like full siblings. The girl has dark hair like the man, but only one eye matches his. Her eyes are both blue. 

“You’re from the Frostveil Pack, aren’t you? I mean… your eyes and hair are silver,” the man says.

I nod.

The sister smirks. “You must be here to buy a dress for the King Selection Ball. But, you don’t look like a highborn to me.”

The man waives his hand at his sister to hush her.

He smiles at me. “By the way, I’m Orvyn, and this is Monique, my sister. What’s yours?”

“T-Thalissia.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Thalissia,” Orvyn says, extending his hand.

I hesitate, then slowly reach out. 

Then,...

A foreign, electrifying sensation shoots up my veins, prompting me to quickly pull my hand back.

Orvyn’s lips twitch, almost like he’s trying to hide a smirk.

He then asks the staff nearby. “Get that pink dress for her.”

One of the staff glances at me, then frowns. “It won’t fit her.”

Orvyn’s eyes turn sharp. His voice goes cold. “It’s your job to find a solution for it.”

Scared, the staff rush to take the pink gown from the display, and gently lead me to the fitting area at the back of the boutique.

The boutique’s designer takes my measurements, explains the changes they’ll make to the gown, and promises that it will be sent to my address in a day or so.

I hold the pink dress in front of my body as I stand before the mirror. In my mind, I see myself at the King’s Selection Ball, dancing in Orvyn’s arms.

But the moment fades almost immediately - He’s not the goal. The Lycan King is.

When I return to the front of the boutique, a lady at the desk hands me a clipboard and asks me to write down my name and address for delivery, while Orvyn hands his black credit card to her.

When I hand the filled-out clipboard back, I catch Orvyn’s eyes glancing at what I had written: Thalissa - Frostveil Orphanage, West Sector. 

He says nothing, but my cheeks burn in embarrassment, and I feel the urge to speak.

“Your sister is right. I’m not a highborn. But I still want to attend the ball. Who knows? Maybe it can change my fate.”

“Though I’m not attractive and not a noble, if the Lycan King sees past my appearance and my societal status, maybe he’ll like me.”

Orvyn tilts his head. “And if he doesn’t choose you?”

I open my mouth, but can’t find my answer.

Orvyn continues, “Royal marriages aren’t always about love. They’re mostly political. They're lucky if they fall in love. Most don’t. That’s why the Lycan King and the Lycan Princes are allowed to have royal concubines to keep their fated mates by their side.”

My eyes widen. 

Concubines?! 

I force a smile, shrugging the implications a mistress can bring to a married couple. “Thanks for the clarification. Still, if I’m not chosen, at least I try to take control of my life for once.”

And,...

If I’m not chosen, I won’t go back to my pack’s territory. I’d rather become a rogue instead. 

Outside the boutique, Orvyn walks me to the curb where his sleek yellow sports car waits. Monique stands beside it, arms crossed, her irritation clear in her eyes.

“I can take you home,” Orvyn offers, opening the passenger door.

I politely decline. He’s done too much already, even though we’re strangers. I don’t want to bother him anymore.

Orvyn doesn’t insist. Instead, he leans slightly toward me and whispers, “One more thing,... to attend the King Selection Ball, you’ll need either a recommendation from your pack’s Alpha and Luna… or a personal invitation from any of the active royal members of the Main Palace.”

I freeze for a moment but quickly nod, pretending I already know. “Right. Of course.”

Surprisingly… I’m not worried about it at all.

I watch as Orvyn’s car speeds down the cobblestone road and disappears into the golden light of the setting sun before walking back toward my pack’s northern border.

I smile to myself, giggling. 

Oddly, I’m not thinking about the ball anymore. I want to see Orvyn again more than anything else.

Does he feel the same way too? Or am I just being delusional and misunderstand his kindness and generosity?