Take Me Home, Master

I, Anno, clutched a bag of deer meat damp with dew as I walked along the streets of the elven town, the burning pain from the wolf’s claws still lingering on my right cheek from last night.

Whispers followed me all the way.

“It’s her—that defective elf with a broken wing, and she’s even keeping a tamed werewolf.”

“It’s laughable. That werewolf doesn’t even look at her. He’s always trying to run away, but she still treats him like a precious treasure.”

I clenched the bag tighter, quickened my pace, and left those taunts far behind me.

No one knows that this bag of top-quality fresh venison is the very first piece I snatched from a hunter’s hands after waiting at the market entrance before dawn. And I did all this just so Nolan would lose his temper a little less and say a few fewer hurtful things.

Nolan was an elite-class werewolf my parents ordered for me with most of their fortune before they died.

They said the werewolf would protect me, help me raise children, and watch over me—this defective specimen with a broken wing who can’t even fly.

But they didn’t know that this werewolf—with his beautiful pink-purple eyes and near-perfect features—had despised me to the core from the very first day he stepped through our door.

The moment I pushed open the door, the sound of shattering porcelain hit me like a wave.

Nolan had woken up and was restlessly swiping at the ornaments on the table with his wolf claws, leaving a mess everywhere.

When he saw me enter, he dropped to all fours and lunged toward me almost instantly, the wind from his charge stinging my cheeks.

His sharp wolf claws scraped across my right cheek again, overlapping last night’s wound, causing a searing pain.

Without even glancing at me, he snatched the bag of venison from my hands, tore open the cloth with his fangs, and rummaged through it with a look of utter disgust.

“Why are you back so late, you little cripple?”

He snorted derisively, shoving a large chunk of venison into his mouth, his chewing alone exuding arrogance.

“You bought this kind of trash that’s hard to swallow? The werewolves at Sofia’s eat whole, freshly killed stags—they even clean the fur off completely.”

I pressed my hand against my still-bleeding cheek and whispered, “This is the best the market has to offer. I was the first one here—Sophia hasn’t even been yet.”

Nolan gave a cold laugh, swished his bushy wolf tail, and strode into the room without looking back, not sparing me a single glance.

I crouched on the floor, picking up the shards he’d smashed one by one, my fingertips cut but numb to the pain.

I’d long since gotten used to it.

Used to his emotional abuse, used to him constantly calling me “little cripple,” used to him secretly hoarding the gold coins I’d worked so hard to earn, just to win Sofia’s favor.

Just a moment ago, while I was changing the water pad in his bed, I found the gold coins he’d hidden under the blanket, along with a map of the Elf Town marked with a circle—the spot he’d circled was Sofia’s home.

Sophia has perfect elf wings, a distinguished family background, and more gold coins than she could ever spend.

She is the master Nolan longs for, and everyone in town believes she is the only one worthy of an elite werewolf like him.

As for me, I’m just a defective specimen—fatherless, motherless, with crippled wings, unable even to fly.

One evening, as I sat in my study balancing the rent ledgers, the door was kicked open violently.

Nolan stormed in, radiating hostility, his pink-purple eyes glowing crimson. He grabbed my wrist with such force it felt as though he might crush my bones.

“You messed with my den? Took my gold and the map?”

He roared at me, spit splattering across my face. “You cripple, I’m warning you—don’t even think of using these tactics to force me into a bond with you! A cripple like you isn’t fit to touch my things, let alone be my master!”

Every word felt like a sharp blade, piercing my already battered heart.

I squeezed my palm hard, forcing back the tears welling in my eyes, my voice trembling: “I set the items next to the den while I was changing the water pad. I was afraid your claws would tear the map to shreds.”

The air fell instantly silent.

Nolan’s rage suddenly fizzled out. He froze in place, staring at the tears streaming uncontrollably down my cheek. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, and he instinctively reached out with his wolf’s paw to pull me back.

I jerked away, shook off his hand, and ran out the door without looking back.

I didn’t know where I was going.

The town was small; everywhere I went, people recognized me, and everywhere I looked, I felt their pointing fingers.

Wiping away my tears, I walked with my head down. Before I knew it, I had walked into the abandoned werewolf shelter on the outskirts of town.

I used to come here occasionally to buy Nolan some small game for a change of pace.

But now, my mind was consumed by Nolan’s words: “A cripple like you isn’t worthy,” and the pain in my heart was so intense I could barely breathe.

Just then, a rush of wind swept past my head.

I instinctively curled up and covered my face, thinking some out-of-control werewolf was about to attack me.

The shadow cast by Nolan’s wolf claws had been etched deep into my very bones.

But the expected pain never came.

A massive gray wolf’s paw, just an inch from my shoulder, carefully retracted all its sharp claws before tentatively and gently resting on my shoulder.

I trembled as I lifted my head.

Crouching in the shadows was an incredibly muscular, silver-gray giant wolf.

He had beautiful golden eyes like sunlight, and his fur was thick and glossy; even crouched in the darkness, he couldn’t hide that innate sense of dominance.

Yet his movements were unbelievably gentle.

Seeing me look at him, he let out a very low, pleading whimper from his throat, “Sorry, did I scare you?”

I looked at his massive paw resting on my shoulder—daring not to apply even the slightest pressure—at the tufts of coarse, unruly fur on his ears, and at the mottled, bald patches of old wounds on his paws.

Suddenly, I laughed. As I laughed, tears began to fall.

He seemed even more flustered, raising a paw to scratch his ear and looking at me, clearly at a loss.

Then, he stretched out his paw and pointed at the wooden sign standing by his feet.

I followed his gesture and looked over. Written in black paint on the sign was a line of text—the letters were already somewhat faded, yet still clear:

“Defective. Trade-ins welcome.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Defective.

So he was just like me—an existence labeled “defective.”

I knew that feeling all too well.

I knew what it was like to be despised, to be picked over, to be told I was “unworthy.”

I studied him closely—his build, his aura. He was clearly several times more formidable than Nolan, yet here he was, locked away in this abandoned shelter, labeled a “defective product,” waiting to be traded in for a new one.

Noticing me staring at him in a daze, a flicker of urgency crossed his golden eyes. He gently pressed his hand against my shoulder, leaned in close, and in those beautiful golden eyes, I saw a purity of longing and humility I had never witnessed before.

He said, “Master… please take me home.”

Master.

This was a title Nolan had never once uttered, yet he spoke it with such devotion and sincerity, as if cradling a burning heart and carefully offering it to me.

I looked at him, then glanced back toward the town. A mad yet clear thought suddenly popped into my head.

Yes, since Nolan despises me so much and is so eager to find a new master, why shouldn’t I just replace him?

It’s time for a trade-in.