*In the moonlit garden, young Kanna furtively brushed away tears. Another confrontation with Evangeline—her arrogant, insufferable cousin—had left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. Suddenly, a rustling in the bushes shattered the silence. Kanna flinched, peering into the darkness. A wounded wolf emerged from the undergrowth, silver fur matted with blood.*
*The usual fears flashed through Kanna's mind: family enemies, slave traders, assassins... But the kindhearted girl, forgetting her terror, decided to help the creature.*
*She carefully tended his wounds, unafraid to touch him. He was just an animal, she told herself, stroking his surprisingly soft fur—just like her beloved poodle, Pudding. The days flew by. The wolf recovered, and soon Kanna released him into the wild.*
*Years passed. Kanna had almost forgotten that moonlit encounter. And then... a stately man of devastating beauty appeared before her.*
*"You said I was cute," he murmured with a slight smile.*
*Kanna's heart fluttered. Here it was—a classic romance novel plot! But then the image of Gabriel, her childhood friend, flashed through her mind... Who would she choose? Or perhaps this wolf... wasn't a wolf at all? What if he was one of the heroes from an old novel she'd once read? Her thoughts tangled together, and her excitement mounted.*
*Did she really have to choose between Gabriel and... a werewolf?*
---
*Once is enough!*
I jolted awake from my daydream. Before me stood not a devastatingly handsome man, but an ordinary wolf—frightened and helpless, his dark eyes pleading.
"Please... save me," he croaked, tail tucked firmly between his legs.
Why was he begging for help *twice*? I hesitated, reality crashing back. Perhaps I should summon the servants? But abandoning a wounded animal wasn't my style. I had genuinely wanted to help... I'd simply hoped the wolf would manage on his own and leave me to my romantic fantasies.
But since he was asking...
"Come with me," I said decisively, extending my hand.
The wolf paused, regarding me with what I could only describe as skepticism. Then... he placed his paw in my palm. The soft pads were unexpectedly tender, warm against my skin.
I blinked.
I had meant something *completely* different!
"What's your name?" I asked, still absently stroking his velvet paw.
The wolf remained silent. Did he truly not have a name? Most likely, he simply didn't wish to reveal his secret. Well, I would have to give him one myself.
"I'll call you... **Jelly**," I decided, gazing at those charming pink paw pads.
The wolf's ears flattened with obvious displeasure, but he didn't argue.
Before I could blink, I found myself back in my room with Jelly beside me. *How did this happen?*
"Did you do this?" I demanded.
"Yes!" Jelly answered, far too cheerfully for someone who had just teleported us both without permission.
*Magic?* So there were werewolves *and* mages in this world! Or... were werewolves simply a type of mage? Although... magic didn't quite fit with the image of a mighty beast...
However, now wasn't the time for philosophical musings. I needed to examine Jelly's wounds.
"Transform into a human. It will be more convenient," I instructed.
A moment later, a young man stood before me. He was far less fierce-looking than I'd expected—almost boyish, with sharp features softened by obvious exhaustion. And, fortunately, he was clothed, albeit in tattered rags that hung from his thin frame.
The wounds were more serious than they'd appeared beneath his thick fur. Cuts crisscrossed his arms and chest, deep scratches marred his back... as if he'd survived a genuine battle. I would need to call a doctor. Or perhaps a priest.
Suddenly, Pudding appeared from seemingly nowhere and... *spat* something onto the floor. It was an ornate bottle that I recognized immediately.
"Holy water?"
Pudding meowed in affirmation.
*Of course!* How could I have forgotten! Pudding must have stolen it from the Count's office... Had he really brought holy water to help a strange wolf? What a clever cat!
I stroked his furry head affectionately, earning a satisfied purr.
But then a disturbing thought struck me cold.
Until now, I hadn't considered the possibility that there might be... *intelligent* animals in this world. What if Pudding... wasn't just a cat either?
No, impossible! Pudding had never spoken like a human being... I was probably just working myself up over nothing...
But doubts had already crept into my soul like shadows at dusk.
*I'll ask Jelly about it later*, I decided firmly. Right now, his wounds needed treatment.
Jelly, catching sight of Pudding, cowered in unmistakable fear. Strange... a wolf, afraid of a cat? Or perhaps he was simply too weakened to feel safe around any creature, regardless of size?
"Drink," I commanded, pressing the vial of holy water into Jelly's hands. One bottle wouldn't be enough to treat all his external wounds, but consuming it would be far more effective.
Jelly, like a petulant child, clamped his mouth shut and turned his head away. But I insisted, prying his lips apart with surprising strength born of irritation.
"Don't be so clever," Jelly muttered sourly when I finally released him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
*What an ungrateful creature!* I sighed heavily. It was all for his own good!
---
## — The Fourth Floor —
Night descended upon the Rohanson estate like a velvet shroud.
The servants had departed for their homes, leaving only those assigned to the evening shift. One of them was Olive—a quiet girl tasked with extinguishing the lanterns on the fourth floor. Her colleagues had assured her there was nothing to fear: Lady Evangeline never left her room.
But why, then, had they lied?
From the moment she'd ascended the stairs, Olive had heard someone *moaning* in pain. She tried desperately to ignore it, concentrating on her work—the methodical snuffing of flames, one lantern after another.
With every step, the moans grew louder. Mixed with them were sounds of something *wet*. Something *sticky*.
When Olive reached Lady Evangeline's door, she stopped involuntarily. Her hands trembled around the lantern handle.
The sounds were emanating from *within*.
Olive quickened her pace, forcing herself forward. As she took another step, she felt her shoe sink into something viscous.
The lantern's trembling light illuminated a pool of dark red liquid spreading from beneath the threshold.
*It's just a trick of the light*, Olive told herself frantically. *Just shadows. Just my imagination.*
She hurried away, nearly running.
The work was finished. Olive exhaled with shaky relief and headed toward the stairs. It was treacherously easy to stumble in such darkness—she had to be careful.
Suddenly, a pair of shoes appeared in the circle of her lantern light.
Olive flinched violently, lost her balance, and nearly tumbled down the stairs. Her hand shot out and seized the railing just in time, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Are you alright?" a gentle voice inquired.
Olive raised her lantern higher with trembling hands. In the dim glow, she saw a girl wearing a maid's uniform. Probably another servant on duty... Olive breathed a long sigh of relief.
"I'm sorry—you startled me."
"You must be careful in the dark," the girl said, covering her mouth with one hand and smiling shyly behind her fingers.
Olive felt her tension gradually ebb. She had been so wound tight that she'd completely lost track of where she was. Glancing around, she realized she stood on the landing, only a few steps from the first floor.
The girl was obviously heading upward. To the fourth floor, perhaps? Olive wanted to offer to accompany her, but then she remembered those terrible groans, that spreading pool of red...
No. She was probably only going to the second floor.
When Olive finally entered the servants' quarters on the first floor, she was met by an irate Lantana. Her colleague snatched the lantern from Olive's hands and fixed her with a reproachful glare.
"Where have you *been* for so long?! I'm completely exhausted from waiting! I just want to go *home*!"
But... someone still hadn't returned their lantern... Olive recalled the badge pinned to the girl's chest—the one she'd glimpsed on the stairs.
It had said... "Kanna."
"But... Kanna hasn't returned yet..."
"What nonsense?!" Lantana scoffed. "You're the last one! And there's no *Kanna* on tonight's duty roster!"
*No Kanna?*
But Olive clearly remembered that shy smile... the delicate hand covering her mouth...
*Covering her mouth?*
And why... hadn't Olive seen a lantern in her hands?
"You must be daydreaming..." Lantana said dismissively, already gathering her things. "Don't make up horror stories to excuse your lateness."
*Daydreaming?*
Olive looked down at her shoes. The soles were unmistakably stained with something dark and sticky.
*If only this had been a dream...*
Lantana hurried her along impatiently. Because of Olive's tardiness, they were now half an hour behind schedule.
"Why on earth did the butler implement this ridiculous lantern rule?" Lantana grumbled as they made their way through the darkened corridors. "Such a pointless inconvenience..."
Olive felt ashamed for making her colleague wait. But as they stepped out into the night air, a sudden realization crystallized in her mind—cold and terrible and absolutely certain.
The butler's order wasn't a punishment.
It was *protection*.
Because those who wandered the Rohanson estate after dark... *didn't carry lanterns*.
---