Lycan - Chapter 2

It was a night shrouded in thick fog. Even the soldiers standing guard in the watchtower couldn’t help but feel terrified on such a night.

A situation where it would be impossible to notice the enemy even if they were right at the gates. The soldiers on night watch stood tense, straining their ears to catch even the faintest sound.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

The stillness that blanketed the air was suddenly shattered by the sound of hooves pounding against the ground, growing louder and shaking the earth beneath them.

What had started as a distant noise quickly closed in, as if right before them, and then came to an abrupt halt.

The fog slowly began to clear, and the soldiers atop the fortress wall lowered their torches in unison.

Six horses and their riders emerged.

Even under the dim torchlight, their commanding presence was palpable, enough to make one feel it down to their very skin.

“It’s Duke Lycan Warren of Deacons! Open the gate!”

One of the six knights bellowed, his resounding voice echoing throughout the fortress. Someone atop the wall shouted toward the inside of the stronghold.

“Lower the bridge!”

Creak, thud!

The sound of chains unraveling cut through the night air, and a heavy drawbridge slammed down over the moat. As the six knights spurred their horses across, the massive fortress gates groaned open with a deep, reverberating sound.

Inside the fortress, the light of countless torches blazed as bright as day, creating a stark contrast between the illuminated interior and the dark expanse outside.

From the shadows, the sound of hooves drew closer, slowly advancing toward the torchlit area.

Suddenly, a massive warhorse emerged from the darkness, causing those who saw it to draw in sharp breaths.

Atop the immense steed sat a towering knight draped in a black cloak.

Though his face remained hidden beneath the hood he wore, an ominous and oppressive aura radiated from him, overwhelming those around him.

One of the soldiers, unable to suppress his reaction, muttered under his breath, almost in a groan:

“The Reaper of Hell.”

It was another name for the Black Wolf.

The imposing knight sat on his colossal warhorse, exuding an air of authority.

The shadow of fear that clung to him was so heavy, it was enough to conjure visions of hell itself for those who beheld him.

Frightened soldiers instinctively lit more torches, and the knight’s massive silhouette came into sharper focus.

“Gasp.”

Someone sharply drew in a breath.

Everything about him was black. From the cloak draped over his chainmail armor to the massive sword hanging at his waist, every part of him was as dark as a demon.

As the horse moved, his body swayed naturally with its motion. The long cloak rippled in tandem with the powerful muscles of the horse, its movements wild and turbulent, like a swirling vortex.

One by one, the remaining five knights began to reveal themselves, emerging from the shadows.

Inside the fortress, a soldier holding a torch stepped forward. Behind him, a man with starkly contrasting black-and-white hair—half white, half black—limped toward them, leaning heavily on his staff. It was none other than Count Belman.

*

“You’ve lost your mind.”

Those were Sheila’s first words, and it was a perfectly reasonable reaction. Anyone would have said the same.

Deceiving the Black Wolf and marrying him in place of the count’s daughter? Who wouldn’t be stunned and outraged?

Sheila glared in disbelief.

“You… You’re saying you’ll become the Black Wolf’s bride?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Oh, my god. Callie, you’re going to die.”

Sheila, as always, was dramatic.

“The count said he’d kill me if I didn’t do as he said. And you too.”

Callie spoke desperately, making Sheila’s eyes widen.

“You idiot! If you die, he won’t even need to come after me. The moment you’re dead, I’ll die too. How many times do I have to tell you? You’re my destiny.”

“The count doesn’t know that…”

“Has the count gone mad? What is he thinking? Does that old fool seriously believe he can deceive the Black Wolf?”

Callie shook her head.

“I don’t know. But the count seems convinced he can pull it off.”

“How? Everyone in this castle knows what the count’s daughter looks like.”

“For the past few days, he’s been sending people out of the castle one by one. The wedding will be attended by only a handful of people. I’m to stay locked in this room until tomorrow’s wedding. Then, I’ll wear that dress, cover my face with a thick veil, and go out. The priest officiating the wedding is from another domain, and he’s never seen the count’s daughter.”

“How meticulous.”

Sheila’s tone was incredulous, and Callie replied with a bitter smile.

“He thought it through, all right.”

“So? He threatened to kill you if you didn’t play the fake bride? That lunatic count?”

“Exactly.”

“But if Duke Warren finds out, he won’t just kill you—he’ll massacre everyone. The count knows that, right?”

“…”

“The count must be senile. What’s he trying to pull? If the Black Wolf learns the truth, he’ll wipe out the count’s entire bloodline.”

“The count doesn’t have long to live.”

“What?”

“He’s gravely ill.”

“…Ha.”

“That’s why he’s willing to give up the family for his one and only daughter. He plans to send me to the Black Wolf and smuggle his daughter away to safety.”

“And what about you? He doesn’t care whether you live or die?”

Callie smiled faintly.

“No one cares about me anyway. So why does it matter?”

“Being self-pitying doesn’t change anything.”

Sheila’s bluntness hadn’t changed. Callie had been hoping for comfort, but she swallowed her disappointment and continued.

“I’ve thought about it too.”

“Thought about what?”

Sheila’s expression turned wary. Callie’s eyes gleamed.

“I’m going to use this opportunity too.”

“…What?”

“We were planning to go to Sorte to meet the Elf Queen anyway, weren’t we?”

“We? You mean you.”

Sheila scoffed, but Callie continued unfazed.

“I left the convent to head to Sorte, but I ended up all the way here in Ospia because I was traveling alone. I was chased by bad men and rescued by the count’s soldiers, which brought me here. This wasn’t what I wanted.”

“And you really think the Elf Queen knows who you are?”

“Of course. Queen Ilrain will know.”

“Because she’s the one who sent you to the convent?”

“Yes. A man brought me there, claiming it was on the queen’s orders. He told them I was special and must be raised carefully.”

Surely the queen would know whether I was a half-elf born of a human and elf, a human, or something else entirely. Whatever my heritage was, I needed to know. Only then could I decide how to live and what to do with my life.

Sheila flapped one of her wings.

“I’ve heard this story so many times I could recite it in my sleep. So what’s your plan?”

Callie smiled brightly.

“The Black Wolf will leave for his northern territory immediately after the wedding. He’ll pass through Sorte on the way.”

Sheila narrowed her eyes.

“And?”

Callie’s eyes sparkled with determination.

“We’ll have the Black Wolf take us to Sorte. And then we’ll escape!”

*

“R-Right now, you say?”

The already pale Count Belman’s face turned ashen.

Standing next to the towering, muscular Black Wolf, who measured nearly two yards tall (around 2 meters), the frail and boyish count—barely one yard and two feet in height (approximately 1.6 meters)—looked utterly diminutive. The contrast between the two men was overwhelming, enough to make anyone who watched the scene feel uneasy.

Wyatt, observing the interaction, found himself genuinely concerned that the count might faint on the spot.
If he collapses before the wedding even happens, we might have to stay here longer.

Contrary to Wyatt’s worries, Lycan simply stared at the count with cold, indifferent eyes and repeated his earlier statement.

“You’ve no intention of holding a grand ceremony, and neither do I. Since we agree on that, why delay further?”

“B-But the wedding is scheduled for tomorrow…”

“I want to leave here tonight.”

Lycan’s voice was low and icy, carrying an authority so absolute that no one dared to refute him.

Count Belman quickly ran through the calculations in his mind and reached a conclusion.
The longer they stayed in the castle, the greater the risk of being discovered. Perhaps this was for the best.

“Very well. I’ll make arrangements for the wedding to take place in an hour.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“What? That’s impossible!”

“And why not? The priest is already in the castle. All it requires is a declaration of marriage and signatures.”

“N-No, but still—”

“Thirty minutes.”

Lycan coldly cut off the discussion, leaving no room for negotiation, and turned sharply on his heel to walk away. Wyatt hurriedly followed him, but as he glanced back, he noticed Count Belman scurrying in the opposite direction in a near-panic.

Wyatt picked up his pace to walk alongside Lycan.

“Well, that’s a bit much, don’t you think? You should at least consider the bride’s feelings.”

“…”

“A wedding is something that only happens once in a lifetime. Brides dream of looking their most beautiful on that day. If you rush through it like this, you’ll ruin her moment and be resented for it forever.”

But Lycan ignored Wyatt’s words entirely and gave a curt order instead.

“Be ready to depart the moment the ceremony is over.”

Wyatt stopped in his tracks, watching Lycan stride ahead without hesitation.

“No heart at all, that man. Talks about a wedding as if it’s just some bothersome chore to get over with. Well, I suppose it’s not like he’s marrying for love, but still… Poor Lady Elisha. No, I suppose she’ll be the duchess soon. Ah, poor duchess. To think she’s marrying a block of wood like him. What a pity, truly.”