Take Me Home, Master
In the Beast World, elven bloodlines can produce stronger half-breed offspring.
After the Great War of the Ancient Races, elves began to classify themselves by the integrity of their wings.
Substandard elves could purchase and tame werewolves to serve as their lifelong guards and companions.
Before my parents passed away, they ordered a werewolf named Nolan to protect me—and, incidentally, to produce offspring.
But that werewolf, who was exceptional in every way, despised me intensely.
He would often berate me:
“A deformed, worthless elf like you should just disappear. You’re not fit to be my mate!”
After he smashed every item in the house yet again, I fled the house in a panic.
By chance, I stumbled into an abandoned shelter, where a massive gray wolf’s paw reached out from the shadows and gripped my shoulder.
The werewolf’s deep, golden eyes gestured for me to look at the sign standing nearby:
‘Defective Models: Trade -In Welcome.’
Tears welled in his eyes as a low, choked sob escaped his throat:
“Master… take me home.”
He was right. It was time to replace the one at home with a new one.
But when I told Nolan to move out of my house, he braced his paws against the doorframe, his eyes red-rimmed:
“You’re abandoning me just for that wild wolf?”