Catriona caught a taxi to the restaurant they'd agreed upon.
It was a spot recommended by Eulalia, who was a food enthusiast and knew all the best places in Capital.
When Catriona arrived, she noticed a flower shop next door, so she bought a bouquet.
Entering the restaurant, she spotted Eulalia right away by the window. Dressed in a black dress with her hair down, she'd done her makeup and was wearing a touch of lipstick.
By her side sat a short-haired girl, dressed in a camisole and loose, wide-legged pants, lounging in a posture of casual, effortless ease.
Catriona walked over with flowers in hand, and Eulalia saw her first. "Hey, I was just about to ask when you'd arrive."
The short-haired woman turned her head and saw Catriona approaching with a cheerful smile, looking at her. "Sylvaine, long time no see."
Sylvaine sighed in mock helplessness. "Ah, I'm envious of myself; I just sat down, and two beautiful ladies are already bringing me flowers."
Eulalia had also bought flowers.
Catriona smiled softly and sat down.
Sylvaine was thirty this year; Catriona had met her a few years ago when she rented an apartment. She was the landlord of those buildings.
She spoke with refreshing candor, her words, "I can't bear to see a beauty suffer," coming to her aid time and again. Before she went abroad, she was like Eulalia—whenever she had free time, she'd drop by, claiming it was just to "cuddle the adorable baby for free," while, in truth, she was there to help take care of her son.
She bought diapers in bulk, and Cedric wore a lot of the clothes she bought.
Eulalia and Sylvaine could all be considered godmothers to Cedric.
Her name was Sylvaine Nightwood. She was bold and swift in her actions, with a strong and assertive temperament. Her family was well-off, and as the youngest with a big brother and an elder sister, she was spoiled almost to the point of recklessness. During school, she was a problem student, known for fighting and skipping classes.
Now, at thirty, she'd toned down considerably. She was planning to return to the country to do something she loved, like opening a few rock bars, and had decided not to go abroad again.
They chatted for a while, and halfway through the meal, Sylvaine seemed to remember something, letting out a cold laugh. "Cedric's cheap dad—my brother met him once, acting all high and mighty. Why show up now after disappearing for so long?"
Catriona thought to herself, he's here to take her son.
Sylvaine added, "He wants little Cedric, huh? Doesn't he have any sense, showing up with such a shameless face to ask for him?"
Catriona was caught off guard by this rude and bold statement.
Eulalia had just taken a sip of water and nearly spat it out.
Catriona paused, then said, "I won't give him the child. I'll be leaving in half a year."
Sylvaine: "Has little Cedric called him dad yet? He's got it easy, being a cheap dad—make him pay child support!"
Eulalia nodded. "I agree, Caddy; you should ask for child support. If he'd stayed away, fine, but now he's back and acknowledges a son as his own. The child acknowledges him, so he's both of yours now—you should get support."
Hearing this, Catriona felt they might have a point.
She had a lot of concerns.
She couldn't contend with Roderick's human-world status.
His role as the Alpha of the pack also frightened her. When she first arrived, she'd constantly worried that Roderick would take their son to that Snow Mountain, leaving her helpless.
The Snow Mountain they mentioned—her intuition told her ordinary humans couldn't enter it.
If Roderick decided not to play fair—not that he no need to be fair begin with—and actually snatched their son away, she'd go crazy.
But after nearly two months together, she believed she had seen enough people and personalities to judge Roderick accurately. He wasn't that kind of werewolf, despite his sharp tongue, awkwardness, and antisocial, solitary nature.
Still, she was sure of one thing: this silly wolf wouldn't do something like that. His perspectives on many things were fundamentally positive.
Whether it was his attitude, interaction, or approach to their son's education, she couldn't deny she agreed with him on these things.
As for child support, she recalled the stack of cards Roderick had initially handed over in the car, later passed to her through their son.
He had actually offered it, but it hadn't reached her.
She'd always guarded against Roderick, fearing he'd use money to play tricks and find excuses to keep their son from leaving with her.
Hearing her friends' words now, her thoughts began to shift. She pictured Roderick holding his son, feeding him, carrying him wherever he went—radiating the bliss of a new father, that boundless paternal love struggling to find a place to settle.
He must be happy, right?
Even if she'd taken the child with her for six months, it's not as if they'd never meet again. He'd come to see the child; the child already understood he had a father. Could she let her son gain only to lose?
After all, the child already belonged to both of them.
It wasn't "selling the child card"—it was child support.
By the time they finished their meal, dusk had settled in.
The three of them headed to the best lounge bar in Capital, a place with private karaoke rooms. In the luxurious room, Sylvaine, knowing they didn't drink much, ordered five bottles of red wine, a case of beer, and two bottles of champagne.
Catriona and Eulalia looked at the array of alcohol, and they were already feeling tipsy before taking a sip.
One of them ran a shop and raised a child, rarely touching alcohol; the other was a full-time manga artist living alone, unfamiliar with the bar scene.
Eulalia was slightly better; she occasionally had a drink to help with insomnia. But Catriona hardly drank a drop—she spent her days bustling around, sleeping soundly at night.
Yet tonight, with Sylvaine back from abroad, she felt obliged to keep her company and make the night memorable.
So, they sang, drank, and while Sylvaine felt nothing, Eulalia was already tipsy. All her pent-up sadness flooded out like a dam breaking. She thought of her family troubles, her newly launched, sluggishly received comic—she could practically feel herself so poor for survival—and burst into tears.
"Eulalia, don't cry." Catriona's face was merely flushed, and she looked otherwise clear-headed.
She held out her little white purse to Eulalia's mouth, gently coaxing, "Are you hungry? Eat, please, stop crying."
Eulalia took it, biting into it with a muffled wail, "It's too hard to chew."
Sylvaine, witnessing this scene, doubled over laughing, unable to straighten up.
With a strong tolerance for alcohol, she drank while watching the two "lightweights" put on a drunken performance, laughing hysterically.
She even ordered plenty of snacks and had Catriona feed her.
Time slipped by without notice, and the night grew late.
In the lively rock-filled room, Catriona's phone rang, its screen lighting up.
Sylvaine, holding a bottle, walked over and picked up the phone.
"Silly wolf? Who is this?"
She glanced at Catriona, who was feeding popcorn to Eulalia, then paused the rock music.
The room quieted down considerably as she answered the call.
A deep voice came through the phone, "Catriona, I'm at the entrance of the bar."
"Sorry, I took it upon myself to come pick you up."
