6

Noemi fell silent. Given the many werewolves her parents had helped, she had no idea which one the man was referring to—the one who was his mother and the original owner of this medicine.

"She must've cherished this medicine that it cost her life."

"They said this medicine she experimented with could almost bring back a dead werewolf."

Noemi didn't answer; instead, her gaze drifted—almost instinctively—to the blood trickling from the wound on his chest. It was as if the fresh cloth she had just used to cover the wound didn't exist at all.

"Well... it was just an experiment. She wasted her life on a useless medicine that wasn't even effective," Douglas said, his jaw clenched. Both anger and sorrow were evident in his voice.

"But I think it is effective." Noemi moved a little closer to Douglas and gently lifted the cloth covering his wound to take a look.

"Look. Dead blood is coming out of your wound. That means this medicine is actually effective."

Unable to hide her amazement, Noemi spoke, then quickly hurried to the kitchen. She returned with a small basin, some clean water, and a small, clean towel. She carefully wiped away the dead blood welling up from the wound.

"You’re still lucky, though—despite how deep the wound is, it didn't hit your heart. Otherwise, you’d surely be dead by now."

Douglas didn't respond to Noemi’s remark; he simply looked away.

Noemi glanced at him, her eyes landing—almost without her realizing it—on his Adam’s apple, which shifted slightly as he swallowed. When Douglas looked over, their gazes accidentally met.

"A—are werewolves really this attractive? Or is it just your power? I mean... I feel like... I feel like there’s something drawing me in."

Douglas stared into her round, brown, yet captivating eyes. She had a well-defined, shapely nose. Her thin, reddish lips were striking. The contours of her jaw and her entire face were beautifully formed. It was the first time he had truly taken notice. She had the face of a princess.

The only thing he couldn't figure out was why the young woman seemed so familiar. He had a strong hunch that he had seen her before, though he was certain it hadn't been in person.

Was it from his dream? His face suddenly lit up at the thought. That must be it! But according to their beliefs, the woman who appears in one's recurring dreams is destined to be one's mate. Yet, how could that be? He had already formed a bond with his wife, Norah, in the past. It was impossible. He also couldn't sense anything through his wolf; ever since he woke up, he hadn't felt its presence at all. He felt just like an ordinary human being.

"Are you listening to me?"

He shook his head as she leaned in closer. Without warning, she pried open one of his eyes and shone a flashlight into it—he had no idea where she’d even gotten the light.

He recoiled instantly, pulling away as a strange heat began to surge through his body.

'What is this? Why do I feel like this towards a human?'

"Get your hands off me, you whore!" he shouted, the words escaping him before he could stop them.

"I am the Lycan King! How dare you—a human—touch me?!"

Noemi raised an eyebrow at Douglas’s outburst. She couldn't decide whether to be angry or amused by his behavior. He truly believed he was a Lycan King, even though she had rescued him when he was just a pup.

"This 'human' just rescued you, you asshole," she retorted.

"Oh, and by the way, Lycan dog—I mean, King—what’s your name? Surely I have the right to know, considering you’re living under my roof."

Douglas froze. It was his first time to meet a human who personally asked for his name since he was brought to the Lycan's kingdom. He was ten years old when his father brought him to his home and no one ever talked to him normally like a normal conversation. He grew up studying about werewolves and humans, fighting and getting stronger. She's right. He lives in her house. He was being nursed by her. And he dare bring his rough attitude here. But he can't just help it. He grew up being cold and ruthless were lowly humans bow down and respect him.

He cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward.

"Douglas... Krael," he replied proudly, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

He was certain she would recognize the name. No one else bore the name of the cold and ruthless Lycan King.

She laughed at him.

His brow furrowed, and he gritted his teeth as he glared at her, struggling to contain his rage.

"What's so funny? I’m telling you, that’s my real name. No one else bears that name."

"The nickname 'Doggy' actually suits you perfectly. From now on, your name is Doggy," Noemi said, laughing.

He tried to sit up—despite the difficulty—intending to strangle her in his fury as she turned away, still laughing. But his body wouldn't cooperate. Even now, he felt an urge to kill the young woman.

"My name is Noemi. Noemi Reech," she introduced herself with a smile, extending her hand.

"The only 'rich' thing about me is my surname, so you’d better get used to a life of poverty. But I promise to take care of you—since I’ve already started treating your wounds, and it was my decision to take you in, after all."

No—scratch that. How could he kill this human, when she is the only one who treats him like a friend? There were no ulterior motives—just pure, genuine kindness.

Could a Lycan King and a human truly be friends?