Chapter 3

Three days later, the Class of 2021 alumni reunion for the Blackwood Combat Academy took place.

As soon as Elara walked into the banquet hall, she saw Kaelen. He was sitting on a sofa in the center of the hall, surrounded by the core members of the pack. But the moment he saw her, he immediately stood up, crossed through the crowd, and sat down beside her.

The instant he sat down, the atmosphere in the booth changed. The air became thick with awkwardness and tension.

Elara knew she was the reason. in the eyes of her former classmates and comrades, she was just a healer with mediocre bloodline who had used pressure from the Council of Elders to marry Kaelen, the Alpha, for status. No one respected her.

But she couldn't be bothered to correct their prejudice. She simply sat there quietly, her expression indifferent, swirling a glass of soda in her hand.

The former class president arrived late, carrying a dusty metal box. He addressed the crowd: "I gathered everyone today partly to catch up, but also because the 'Letter to My Future Self' we buried five years ago is finally due to be opened. I thought it would be fun for us to read them together."

Instantly, the room livened up. The wolves gathered around excitedly, the air filling with restless pheromones.

"Let's make it interesting. Everyone draws a letter at random and uses an amplification spell to read it out loud!"

"Great idea! I'll go first!" One of the most extroverted Beta wolves in the class squeezed into the crowd and grabbed a wax-sealed envelope at random.

Eggad on by a few oblivious classmates, he tore open the envelope, cleared his throat, and began to read: "'Elara, how are you five years from now? I am writing this letter in the library sunlight. Although I don't know where you will be or how you will feel when you read this, I want to share my current heart with you.'"

Hearing the first sentence, the room fell instantly silent. Everyone's eyes turned to Elara. Even Kaelen, who had been looking down replying to work emails, looked up at her in surprise.

Elara, usually calm and composed, felt her heart plummet. She remembered clearly what she had written in that letter.

The boy gave a mischievous grin and continued reading: "'This year, you are 19, a second-year student, and you have fallen in love with Kaelen Blackwood—though he knows nothing of it. Even if he knew, nothing would change, because his heart only holds Seraphina.

Your feelings are destined to wither. You might ask, if there is no hope, why not let go? Here is why.

I love the light in his eyes when he cheers in the arena, I love the subconscious kindness when he blocked a runaway magic missile for me one night, and I love how he is always polite even when rejecting others' confessions.

The person craning her neck just to steal a glance at him during morning training is me. The person who heard he was injured in a simulation, sneaked into the infirmary through a storm, and exhausted her magic to heal him is me. The person who filled her diary with his name is also me.

He may never remember me in this lifetime, but that's okay. Unrequited love is a chaotic battlefield, yet it remains a solitary performance—a pantomime played out for an audience of one.'"

The reading ended, and the room was deathly silent.

Kaelen was stunned. Memories of the wedding he had tried to forget suddenly flooded back—he remembered how Elara had walked straight toward him at the altar, ignoring the questioning gazes of everyone present.

In that instant, everything made sense. She hadn't married him for status or protection like everyone assumed. She had loved him for years.

Kaelen's chest tightened. The emotional walls he had built for years seemed to crack in that moment. His wolf spirit became restless for reasons he couldn't articulate.

On impulse, he wanted to ask—to ask about those things she had buried deep in her heart for years, to ask if the warm magic he had felt when he woke up in the infirmary that time had come from her. But before he could speak, Seraphina called.

"Kaelen, I'm blocked at the entrance of the 'Dark Moon' club! There are several rogue werewolves surrounding me—"

Before she could finish, Kaelen's expression changed drastically. He bolted toward the stairs. The moment he saw the thugs with dyed, mottled hair, his fist flew out.

Consumed by rage, he held nothing back. The Alpha's power was fast and vicious; within seconds, the men were on the ground, coughing up blood.

A crowd quickly gathered. Some rushed to protect Seraphina. She was weeping, pointing at one of the men, saying the tattooed one had grabbed her hand.

Hearing this, Kaelen grabbed an iron bar from the roadside and smashed it ruthlessly onto the man's hand. A shrill scream tore through the night sky.

Elara hurried downstairs just in time to witness this scene. She froze, her eyes fixed on that hand. It was mangled, the bones nearly shattered.

Instinctively, she looked up at Kaelen—only to see his back as he ushered Seraphina away.

Kaelen, who had been violently savage just moments ago, now wore a face full of tenderness. He whispered comforts to the frightened Seraphina, releasing soothing pheromones. It was a gentleness Elara had never received from him.

She lowered her eyes, masking the emotions within, and let out a soft, self-mocking laugh. Then, without a word, she turned and returned to the empty manor alone.

It wasn't until past midnight that Kaelen returned. Seeing Elara sitting quietly on the sofa, he remembered he owed her an explanation.

"Elara, about tonight... we are all comrades. I couldn't just watch Seraphina get hurt," he said, his tone carrying a trace of fatigue.

Elara couldn't even be bothered to expose him. She gave a soft "Mmm," picked up her pajamas, and walked straight to the bathroom.

Half an hour later, she walked out with wet hair. Kaelen was holding her tablet, looking puzzled.

"Elara, why did you buy a one-way ticket to the North?" he asked.