Chapter 23: Vampire

"Huh?" Glen blinked, having just finished with a customer. "Just a guess."

But Layla was already speaking. "She was terrified that day. God bless her—poor Bonnie. Since then, she's become so quiet, always lost in her thoughts. We've tried to cheer her up, but nothing works. Her mother's even more worried—she's come to school multiple times to check on her. I've seen her hiding in corners, crying silently."

"If I hadn't dragged her out that day… none of this would've happened. It's all my fault—"

The compassionate girl's eyes reddened, tears threatening to spill. Glen quickly interjected with an awkward smile.

"How could this be your fault? You're a good person. Everyone knows that, right?"

He shot a meaningful glance at the three boys behind her. After a delayed beat, they nodded vigorously in agreement.

Glen nodded, satisfied, then continued soothingly, "So blame… uh…"

Blame me! Damn it! Glen jolted inwardly. Wasn't this all my doing? He coughed sharply, cutting himself off. "Anyway, she'll be fine. Time heals. Trust me."

Maybe I should visit the kid later. Clean up my own mess… Glen mentally sighed.

"Right, Layla," the red-haired Polk chimed in gently. "Don't overthink it. Bonnie'll pull through."

The others murmured reassurances.

Even Pernas seemed to consider stepping forward, her hand twitching slightly, but she stayed rooted in place.

When Layla's composure steadied, Glen glanced pointedly at the distant blonde and teased, "Well, that extraordinarily dressed young lady seems to be losing patience. Better hurry along."

He spoke loudly enough for Pernas to hear—a deliberate provocation.

The golden-haired girl stiffened, tilting her chin up with a haughty sniff, like a swan affronted by a duck.

Layla flushed with renewed embarrassment, but Glen's dismissal left little room to linger.

"I'll… speak to her properly. Please don't hold it against her," Layla murmured, bowing slightly before leading her friends away.

Glen waved cheerfully, then turned back to his stall.

Once out of earshot, Polk couldn't contain his curiosity. "Layla, how do you know that man? And what happened with Bonnie? You've never explained—"

Layla bit her lip. She'd resisted leaving home at all—her father's threats still loomed, and the crowded streets offered little comfort. Though increased patrols made public spaces safer, dread clung to her like a shadow.

Only her friends' pleading looks had convinced her to venture out.

Now, confronted, she relented, quietly recounting the encounter with her father.

Gasps erupted from the group. Pernas gripped Layla's hand, her earlier hauteur replaced by genuine distress. "This is horrifying! Why didn't you tell us? You and Bonnie must be terrified! Stay at my estate—both of you. My family's guards will protect you."

Layla, disarmed by the sincerity, shook her head. "I can't leave my mother. But Bonnie… she might need it."

"Your mother could come too—" Pernas pressed, but Layla's closed expression silenced her.

Back at the stall, Glen's mind drifted as he traded meat and gossip.

A customer's offhand remark revealed the town's recent turmoil: missing children. Panicked families had besieged the police station, demanding answers—hence the heightened security.

This reeks of Layla's father, Glen mused. Or traffickers. Wouldn't surprise me in this era… "Might need to look into this," he muttered, stretching lazily.

In his past life, he'd despised human traffickers. If they were involved, he'd crush them without mercy.

"Sir, how much for this cut?"

A melodious voice snapped him back to reality.

"Four Bella per—" Glen began automatically, then froze.

Before him stood a stunning woman. Her wide-brimmed hat framed porcelain-pale skin, her lips crimson against its pallor. Her gown, though understated, radiated opulence, and her black lace gloves seemed out of place in a butcher's stall.

She regarded him with an amused, almost predatory smile.

"Ma'am," Glen said slowly, "you're… unusual."

The woman's smile faltered. Of all the reactions she'd anticipated, this wasn't one.

"Oh?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, recovering smoothly. "Do elaborate."

Everything about her set Glen's instincts ablaze—her scent, her aura, the restless simmer in his blood. She carried no trace of Byek Village's strangeness, yet she was… wrong.

"Everything's unusual," he replied flatly.

Her eyes narrowed. Then, leaning across the counter until her lips nearly brushed his ear, she whispered, "You're one to talk, werewolf."

"Oh no, you've seen through me. How shocking," Glen deadpanned.

The woman blinked, momentarily thrown, before irritation flickered beneath her poise. A lone mutt, playing bold?

"Does your Alpha know you're here," she purred, trailing a gloved finger over the meat, "peddling pork like some commoner?"

Vampire? Glen studied her. But sunlight doesn't burn her. High-tier? Aloud, he shrugged. "Alpha? What Alpha?"

"You're a stray?" Her composure cracked, genuine surprise widening her eyes.

"Call me that again. I dare you."

She laughed—a sharp, ringing sound that drew stares. Glen watched as if she'd sprouted a second head.

When her mirth subsided, she fixed him with a gaze both calculating and oddly wistful. "The old Wolf King would rage if he saw you now."