(Timeline: The day Grey and Eulalia got married.)
Inside the lively and beautiful little villa, the air was filled with the joy of the wedding. As night slowly descended, the guests gradually began to leave.
Draven was about to turn and leave when Grey's voice called out to him from behind. "Draven."
"What's wrong?" Draven turned around. He had made an effort today, wearing a black suit. His usually messy, thunder-struck curls had been neatly styled, parted in the middle, revealing his striking, deep features. His expression was calm, like the sea, and the usual scruffiness had vanished—there was something refined about him now.
After the Fallen Werewolf attack on the Luna Palace, the young wolves knew that Draven was a pure brown, formidable werewolf.
His natural curls were a deep brown, the length just past his ears, as though intentionally dyed. Most of the time, his untamed hair obscured the scar between his brows and the weariness in his eyes, giving him an air of mystery.
If one stared closely at his face, one'd feel a sense of surprise, as if one had to double-take.
Grey wore a white suit, with a flower tucked in the pocket of his chest. His handsome face still carried a hint of youthful awkwardness, a freshness that hadn't yet faded. As the saying goes, "Happiness brightens the soul," and this young werewolf, in his moment of happiness, seemed to radiate a charm he hadn't shown before.
"Draven..." Grey pressed his lips together, his tone serious. "Thank you."
Draven raised an eyebrow, as if surprised that this troublesome kid had suddenly become so thoughtful.
"I'll remember you," Grey said. "But alcohol is no good, drink less." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away.
Draven snorted and said, "Kid, live a good life, and listen to your mate."
Grey didn't look back and simply said, "Got it."
Draven didn't mind, laughing softly as he turned to leave.
As he turned, his gaze shifted to the distance, pausing for a moment.
The woman in the black evening dress, with short hair, was saying her farewell to the bride of the day. She laughed freely, her beauty and charm radiating from her face, making her look both striking and graceful.
She was her sister, there was a certain resemblance.
If she was beautiful and gentle like water, her sister was beautiful and sharp like a knife.
The short-haired woman seemed to sense something and turned to look in his direction. Draven instinctively turned his face, his hair falling to obscure his features. For some reason, the usually composed, weathered man seemed a little out of sorts in that moment, a hint of discomfort in his otherwise steady demeanor.
"Sylvaine, drive slowly on the way back, or we can give you a ride."
"I didn't drink, no need," Sylvaine said with some teasing. Eulalia blushed, then Sylvaine got in the car, took the driver's seat, and drove away.
Draven stood still for a few seconds, then began walking.
In just a short time, his legs felt heavier.
In his memory, he had been in his pure wolf form, crouching on the lawn. She had stroked his head and softly said, "Draven, this is my little sister. You can't bite her."
A little girl just over ten years old had returned from abroad, wearing a princess dress, curiously staring at him.
"Anna, this is a wolf, a really big wolf. Our brother was right, we have a big wolf at home."
"Sylvaine, you are so smart. His name is Draven."
"Mom said, did you pick up Draven?"
"Yes, I'm really great, right?" The girl, still innocent and untouched by the world despite being eighteen, had never attended school due to health reasons. Her face carried a pure, almost childlike quality, like a delicate flower—beautiful yet fragile.
Her education had taken place at home, and the world she had seen was small. So, when she ventured outside once a year, she found a large wolf, nursed it back to health, and earned its full trust. In return, the wolf became her companion, a source of comfort and distraction from her loneliness.
"Mom and dad have already agreed to let me keep him. Sylvaine, you will get along with my Draven, okay? He's my friend."
...
...
Draven walked down the street. Beyond the villa area was a long stretch of open road, flanked by flowers, plants, and trees. Werewolves weren't suited for life in bustling cities, so when Eulalia came into money, she had made sure to buy a house here, where they could live more comfortably.
Since there was no rush to return to the Luna Palace, Draven walked slowly, savoring the peace of the quiet road.
He didn't know how long he had been walking, but then he caught the sharp smell of gasoline. The further he went, the stronger it became.
Then, a silver sports car, out of control, crashed into a roadside willow tree, its metal frame crumpled in an instant.
That car... he had seen it not long ago.
Draven's eyes widened. In the next moment, his body flickered, swiftly leaping to appear beside the car.
Behind the wheel, the short-haired woman who had been laughing just moments ago was now covered in blood, her eyes closed, uncertain whether she was alive or dead.
This scene seemed to have just occurred yesterday.
Draven felt the familiar, excruciating pain. For a moment, he thought time had turned back, and he had returned to that year.
But he was no longer the werewolf he had been back then; all he could do was lose his composure, showing his ears and tail, crying out in agony.
He tried to calm himself, feeling the woman's breath, opening his mouth to speak in a hoarse, deep voice. "Sylvaine..."
He had just said the name when he seemed to remember something and suddenly stopped.
He didn't call her again. Instead, he immediately pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
He stayed by her side until the ambulance arrived. He entered the forest and watched the doctors professionally take the injured Sylvaine away before he left.
Late at night, Sylvaine came out of the operating room, her head bandaged. It wasn't a serious issue, but she would need to rest for half a month.
Her mother hugged her, crying. "I told you not to drive! You never listen to me. You two are trying to kill me!"
Sylvaine's older brother stood to the side and spoke, "No driving for a year."
Sylvaine was stunned, seemingly lost in thought. She asked, "Mom, who brought me to the hospital?"
Her daughter, injured and asking that, made her mother snap, "The ambulance! What else could it be?"
"Then... who called the ambulance?"
Her mother immediately replied, "I see. If we knew which kind-hearted person called, we'd have to thank them properly."
Sylvaine's expression turned thoughtful. At that moment, she seemed to have heard someone arrive by the car, staring at her and calling her name.
That voice... she had heard it before.
It was so familiar it made her heart uneasy.
"Mom, did Anna..."
"She's asleep now. You think she's like you, still driving herself around?"
"I meant, has she remembered anything?"
The mother's expression changed slightly. "What could she remember! There's nothing! Don't say such things, don't disturb her."
"How could I disturb her? I can't wait to protect her."
She just...
Suddenly thought of something.
"Hey, where's my phone?"
"Didn't anyone pick it up for me?"
Sylvaine remembered that in the moment of the accident, her phone seemed to have flown out of her hand.
At the quiet edge of the forest, Draven was about to leave. Humans had already arrived to tow away the wrecked car and clean up the scene. The child inside—she should be fine. Just as he was preparing to leap away...
A sudden ring of a phone broke the silence.
It wasn't his phone.
He glanced towards the grass ahead and walked over.
On the vibrating phone screen, the caller ID showed "Anna."
