Chapter 4: Poor Commoners' Ghost

Out of desperation, a fragile truce was forged.

In the year 2174, wolves, vampires, and humans bound their fates beneath a bloodstained sky. The pact was simple: humans would be spared from wanton slaughter, and in return, they would offer the lifeblood that kept both beasts and shadows alive.

From the ragged slums of Dreg Zone to the gleaming heart of the First Level Central District, an Allied fortress rose, offering humans a sanctuary within cold walls. A gilded cage where humanity could breathe, though never truly be free.

A hundred and eighty years have passed since the pact was sealed, marking the year 2324.

Now, beneath the cold light of another Blood Worm Moon, though its former glory had long faded, the stakes had never been higher. Predatory power was at its peak, the best time to hunt and mate. Yet, for noble vampires and werewolves, producing heirs to inherit their mantle forward had become the highest priority.

Thus, the selection of human mates all across the allied territory began.

Velvetiana was about to cross that threshold, unknowingly.

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"Excuse me? Where are you taking me?"

Velvetiana halted mid-step, her gaze narrowing as the man guided her toward a private lounge reserved for the elite class who are using modern airships.

She knitted her eyebrows and added, "I can't go to that side."

She might be a ignorant bumpkin from the boonies, but that didn't mean she was completely clueless. She had climbed enough roofs and trees just to get a signal on her ancient 3G phone that miraculously survived the war.

One could say, the closer a district to the Central, the closer they are to living the future.

Dreg was stuck in the ruined past, struggling to live off from what they could scavenge and what other territories throw at their way.

In that bleak truth, a blackberry phone with small coverage was the only device her family could afford. It was as good as a glitching scrap foil that was still sold in Dreg for twenty damn bucks. But it was better than nothing.

She could only rely on it to look up some things she needed to know after deciding to travel alone.

The world is cruel to the ignorant. If she couldn't ask, she could at least pretend to be confident and knew something to avoid scammers and becoming a laughingstock. Hansel bowed beside her. He was a head taller than her and his posture immaculate as he replied with calm precision.

"My lady, please be at ease and wait comfortably inside. I've already secured your ticket and boarding pass."

"Huh? Why would you do that? I already bought a ticket." She lifted the ticket in her hand, confusion flickering across her face. "Then what should I do with this now?"

It was the same ticket her father had painstakingly saved for by selling off his passion and only source of income just to buy it.

Upon seeing what she had in hand, Hansel's brow creased in mild disapproval. His tone sharpened, laced with quiet arrogance.

"Pardon me, my lady, but that ticket is for economy flights. It wasn't even a business flight for the middle class."

Velvetiana's face grew a darker shade. "I can read so I know that much."

The man heaved a sigh and curtly replied.

"Economy flights are only for poor commoners. How could someone of your stature possibly board one of those old, battered things? I would advise you to discard it as it no longer suits your new identity as a noble—"

Slap!

Hansel's head barely moved from the impact, but the sharp sound echoed through the polished floors of the private lounge. Velvetiana's palm stung, but it was worth it. Her face twisted into a crooked smile as she flexed her fingers.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said sweetly, voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Did I accidentally slap you? My hand must have been possessed by all the poor commoners' ghosts. They're so bitter, you know?"

Hansel's silver eyes darkened, though his expression remained eerily composed. A flicker of something dangerous passed behind them, but he quickly masked it beneath a polite smile.

"I see," Hansel murmured. He slowly adjusted his gloves, the crisp sound of fabric sliding over his fingers unnervingly loud. "Perhaps I misspoke."

Velvetiana scoffed and stepped back, still clutching the ticket in her hand like a lifeline.

"Oh no, I think you spoke perfectly fine," she said coolly, stuffing the ticket into her jacket pocket. "You've made it very clear what you think of commoners. But Mr. Hansel you do realize that I was raised somewhere even most commoners would find dirty and disgusting. I wonder if you're so bored with your job and want to change profession by mocking me..."

The man's throat tightened and flinched.

Without hesitation, Hansel's hand moved and he slapped his other cheek with a force that made it look like he had been hit by a hammer.

Caught by surprise, Velvetiana who was very upset a second back, almost jumped into her spot with a frantic heartbeat.

"H-Hey! What are you doing? Hansel!" she reproached, but the man looked so determined to punish himself.

She grimaced at how his once calm and pleasing appearance was turned beaten into a pulp because of his own repeated thrashing.

What the hell? Did he go crazy just because of a few words from her?

"I dare not, my lady. Please forgive this lowly servant for my transgression," he said with a muffled voice.

The resounding crisp slap continued and didn't stop while he spoke.

Oh god. This neat-looking guy she met was gone. He suddenly looked like a battered street thug!

Scary. She was only relieved that she wasn't the one being punched or else, her face wouldn't survive the assault and Pauly would've flipped over.

She was about to brush past him when a quiet laugh interrupted her thoughts.

Low and easy, like the edge of a blade skimming silk.

Her eyes flicked toward the source.

A young man leaned casually against the wall in the corner of the lounge, partially hidden beneath the shadow of his dark hoodie. He was tall, particularly a few inches taller than Hansel if she could surmise it right but his frame was lean beneath the loose fabric of his jacket.

A mop of dark brown hair fell over his red eyes, obscuring them beneath the hood, but the smirk curving his lips was impossible to miss.

He was muttering something she couldn't make out because of his occasional jeering.

On his wrist was a sleek, high-tech holographic watch, glowing faintly as shifting data flickered across its surface. Velvetiana's brow furrowed. Even from across the room, she could tell that was not something an average person—or even a common rich kid—could afford.

That level of technology was military-grade. Perhaps only a brat from the high society, a diamond spoon from birth who likes throwing off money could.

Yet here he was, dressed like someone who had just crawled out of an alleyway in contrast.

Did she make the wrong assumption?

She shook her head. This one is surely just another weirdo she will encounter along the way.

Suddenly, the young man tilted his head, eyes glinting beneath his hood.

"Feisty," he said with a chuckle. "Didn't expect to see a commoner girl with that much bite."