He glanced towards the grass ahead and walked over.
On the vibrating phone screen, the caller ID showed "Anna."
Draven's eyelid twitched, his mind going blank. There was no mistaking it—the phone was Sylvaine's. He could still smell her scent lingering on it.
And Anna...
It couldn't be... How could it be her...
There are many people in the world with this name; it's impossible for every one of them to be her.
It couldn't be her...
Once a member of the werewolves died, they would never wake up again. Forget about pure humans. Besides, he had tried so many times, seeking out so many so-called experts...
Draven shook his head, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. He wasn't planning to answer the call, but as the ringtone echoed in waves, the thought of it being cut off at any moment made his heart tighten, as if gripped by an invisible hand...
He had watched many times as little Sylvaine held her phone, dialing this contact. Back then, he didn't understand much about phones, he just knew that by tapping it, he could hear that familiar, gentle voice.
No...
Even if he answered again, a thousand times, it could never be her.
He had long come to terms with reality, his heart like ashes.
In the end, Draven took a deep breath, his hand gripping the small pine tree beside him. The tree was about as thick as a small bowl, and he held it tight, swallowing painfully as his heart seemed to drop. In that moment of agony, he pressed the answer button.
In that moment, Draven felt as if his world had gone silent.
How... how had he arrived at Judgment Day again?
He didn't dare to believe, but his body couldn't control itself. He had to believe, even though seven years had passed. He still didn't want to let go of even a sliver of hope, and so he answered the call.
"Ah, the phone answered?" A middle-aged woman's voice came through.
Draven closed his eyes, his heart sinking into the depths, as if enveloped by the coldest, darkest void of the earth. Despair, pain, self-deception—he felt like a fool, a pitiful clown.
So he told himself, it's not her...
He was told not to pick up... what was he hoping for?
Draven tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes a dull gray.
"Miss?"
Draven said nothing, preparing to hang up.
Just as his fingertip was about to touch the red button, another young, gentle voice came through the phone. "Mrs. Woods, has Sylvaine picked up?"
The voice grew closer, coming from afar.
Draven widened his eyes in disbelief, his body freezing completely.
"Sylvaine, are you home? The wedding of your friend must be over by now?" The voice was now very close, as if the phone had been passed to someone else.
"Or... is it still not over yet?" The voice was gentle, slow, and carried a hint of laughter. "Don't laugh at me, I don't really understand."
A moment of silence.
"Sylvaine, can you hear me? Why aren't you speaking?"
A loud crack echoed.
The small tree Draven was gripping finally couldn't bear the pressure, snapping and breaking under the force of the werewolf's grip. It fell with a sharp creak, tumbling to the ground.
"What's that sound, Sylvaine?"
Draven opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and barely recognizable. "Anna, am I dreaming again?"
Now, there were even people telling him she was dead, and he almost believed them.
On the other side, in a beautifully arranged and cozy room, bathed in soft lighting, Anatalia held her phone delicately, pressing her rosy, hydrated lips together. "May I ask, are you a friend of Sylvaine? I'm her sister."
She seemed to rarely talk to anyone other than those she was familiar with at home, nervously clutching her phone, feeling both anxious and a little curious.
"Which one of her sisters are you?"
"Her second sister. I'm her only real sister." Listen to that tone—there's a hint of pride in it.
"What's your name?"
"My name is Anatalia. Can you pass the phone to my sister? You're her friend, right? Welcome to come visit us at home."
Draven almost laughed in anger. He didn't know what his feelings were when he replied, "Alright, I'm coming over now."
"Huh, right now?"
Of course, right now!
Draven felt that if he didn't go to the Nightwood villa immediately, he would die.
She's not dead...
She's still alive!
The Nightwood lied to him!
Draven dashed across the rooftops of human buildings, the cold wind biting at him as tears blurred his face.
The Nightwood's villa, a place he would never get lost, even with his eyes closed.
—
Anatalia thought for a moment, changed into her guest-receiving clothes, and went downstairs. The person on the phone had said they were coming over.
She had always been frail since childhood, and seven years ago, she nearly lost her life at the hands of a bad person. Her family was terrified, forbidding her from leaving the house. They even had a section of the family estate specially renovated for her—complete with a lake, lawn, and garden. She never felt bored there, surrounded by tranquility.
Since she had invited the person over this way on the phone, there was no reason to turn them away.
As soon as she stepped out, a maid who took care of her appeared in the hallway.
"Miss, any instructions for today?"
"Miss, where are you going? It's time for you to rest."
"Miss, if you don't rest now, Master and Madam will be upset when they find out."
Anatalia's voice was soft and gentle. "It's alright, just keep it a secret for me."
Her sister had such a vast world to explore, yet she couldn't even entertain a guest?
More importantly, the voice on the phone sounded so familiar, so familiar it made her heart tremble with joy. She couldn't explain why, but she had to go see this person.
As soon as she stepped out the gate, she saw a tall, broad figure in a suit, with brown hair and a mature, handsome face. Yet, his eyes held a touch of weariness, a depth of experience that spoke of time's passage.
She blinked, stunned.
"Who are you?" She asked, but her eyes were already red. She didn't understand what was happening—she didn't know this person, yet she felt so wronged, as if she wanted to cry.
Draven, however, gently smiled, his gaze fixed on her, unwilling to blink, his eyes full of light.
He whispered softly, "You said I am like a brave wolf, moving between the darkness and the light. You said you liked the way I stood up for you. You gave me this name. Hello, my name is Draven."
When she first learned he could transform into a pure human form, she gave him this name.
Just like the he expressed, she hoped he would remain brave, no matter what challenges he faced.
Tears welled up in Anatalia's eyes as her memories, lost for seven years, began to unfold like a film, scene by scene.
She found an injured wolf, and without listening to her family's objections, insisted on taking it home for treatment. She was always obedient, but this time, her determination to personally care for the wolf made her fall ill with worry. Eventually, her family relented and allowed her to keep it.
The great wolf seemed to understand her words, always by her side. It effortlessly carried her across the meadow, running freely beneath the sun, with the warm breeze gently caressing them both. It was so much fun, so joyful.
Eighteen—an age not lonely, not boring.
That wolf actually turned into a person.
He's... so handsome...
He's so amazing, able to climb, jump, and secretly carry her over the wall to see the world outside.
They ate snacks they normally couldn't have, hot-dog, barbecues...
She loved him.
He felt the same.
Their true identities, their feelings for each other, all had to be kept secret—but none of it remained hidden for long.
Everything was exposed.
Clouds gathered in the sky.
Her family beat her Draven, calling him a monster.
Draven, run, don't come back.
But... how could he leave her?
Since that's the case, with her family's refusal, they would live their own lives.
They ran away.
Draven worked hard every day, earning money and putting in labor.
They had a house, and Draven began buying furniture, still happily laughing.
Draven isn't a monster, he's just a little different in appearance.
He's very gentle, not just kind to her, but also to her sister. He accepted her family.
It's a pity, her health wasn't the best, and her belly never showed any signs of change. But Draven didn't mind. He said, whether there was a baby or not, having her was enough.
Every day was so blissful.
... But her family found them.
Draven drove, taking she away. He didn't want to clash with his family; he didn't want to leave me.
There was a car accident. When she woke up, she had forgotten everything. It felt like... she had forgotten something very important.
What did she forget?
Anatalia's tears couldn't stop falling. She had forgotten... forgotten Draven.
"How did you become like this, so old?"
Draven sighed. "I've gotten older."
"I forgot you," Anatalia said, walking out the door.
Draven walked over. "It's okay."
"I've forgotten you for seven years..." she cried out.
"It's okay," Draven held her gently, careful not to hold her too tightly. "Anna, it's okay. It's just seven years."
"Look at you, what have you become? You still say it's okay. Draven, why are you so silly? After all these years, wasn't it painful?"
Of course it was painful.
The pain of a torn heart, nothing less.
Meanwhile, in the hospital.
Sylvaine lay on the hospital bed, unable to hold it in anymore.
"When I was half-conscious, I think I heard... I heard Draven's voice."
"What?!" The family's expressions changed suddenly.
Especially the father. Through his glasses, you could see the shock in his eyes, with something indescribable: "Really... is he still in Capital?"
Perhaps due to the injuries, Sylvaine's face was pale. At this moment, she no longer had the cool and handsome look in Catriona's eyes. She lowered her gaze. "Dad, don't you regret it?"
The father's lips trembled for a moment, but no words came out.
That creature, neither human nor demon, allowed him to beat it, covered in wounds, coughing up blood, not resisting, only repeating those words over and over: "I love her." "I love her."
He believed it was love. He even thought his daughter might never find a mate who loved her that much, but how could he marry his daughter to such a creature?
"I didn't want to kill him. He's still a life, let me just lie to him."
A funeral, fooling many people, and also fooling that being.
When burying him, he even feared that the being would rush up to cause trouble, but instead, he was calm, his eyes as if he were dead.
Over the years, the daughter had forgotten, but sometimes she would cry uncontrollably, turning the house upside down, saying she had lost something very important, and no matter what, she had to find it.
If she couldn't find it, she would be sad and silent for a long time.
He didn't think he had done anything wrong, but now, he was starting to
"...Dad, why did you lie to me back then??"
Sylvaine's emotions suddenly became uncontrollable.
"The accident that happened to Anna was because you were chasing them. How could you say it was him that bit her..."
And she believed it.
...
"I hate you! You said you treated Anna well, loved her! You're not even human, you're a monster! You can't control yourself, you're a dangerous threat! You shouldn't have come to my house, Anna shouldn't have saved you! Why did you come and destroy our family! Why!"
At that time, the family had already released the news of Anna's death, and he believed it, like a silent corpse, allowing her to beat and scold him.
Later, Sylvaine learned the truth, and thinking back to this scene, it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
In her memory, the tall and foolish Draven always tried to call her by her name.
It made her so mad.
But she got used to it later.
Because Draven would carry her and her sister around, bring her strange things, and help them hide it from their parents, which wasn't so bad.
Later, she helped her parents hide things from Draven and her sister.
Watching Draven's pain after he thought her sister was dead.
Watching Anna cry and search for things every month.
For all these years, Sylvaine had been plagued by guilt, and later she tried to find out where Draven went, but she couldn't find him.
Anna was searching, and so was she, but they couldn't find him.
If they could find Draven, no one would stop them.
Unfortunately...
—
Six months later.
In the little villa.
Anatalia had eaten the snow crystals, and they had healed her long-standing weakness. Now she felt full of energy.
Draven had stopped drinking and had long since moved out of the Luna Palace. Now, he didn't care about anything else—only his little family.
Every time he opened and closed his eyes, it was his mate beside him. Happy people didn't carry such a worn-out air.
"Draven, let's go fishing today?"
"Okay."
"Draven, I want to travel, see the world."
"Okay."
"Draven, I want to cook for you."
...
A year later, Anatalia was pregnant.
Five months into the pregnancy, on this day, Draven held a hoe, digging in the garden to plant the flowers his partner liked. His mate, wearing a sunhat, stood by the side, reading aloud from a storybook to him.
"The frog asked the tree, do you regret it? Don't you hate it?"
"The tree said, I don't think anyone regrets having reached the moon."
"The potato said, my moon has returned."
Draven laughed loudly when he heard this, as if finding the story amusing, then looked at his mate's belly and said, "My moon not only returned, but it brought a little moon with it."
Anatalia walked over and kissed her husband on the cheek, laughing, "How do you know it's only one little moon?"
She thought she would never have children in this life, but now, with health, wealth, and longevity, she wanted to have more children to accompany them, to keep their family lively.
Draven was suddenly kissed, but he didn't put down the hoe, and though his hands were covered in dirt, he didn't touch his mate, holding back from returning the sweet kiss.
Anatalia comforted him, "Draven, be good. I'll satisfy you tonight."
Draven cleared his throat softly. "It's up to you."
But with the cubs in her belly, they would have to rely on other means.
