Chapter 1
The system made me an outcast live-in husband in a werewolf clan for three years. The mission reward: 80 billion dollars. Now there's only half a day left until retirement settlement.
The arrogant pure-blood Alpha wants to force me into a deadly full moon execution array, roaring for me to kneel and die.
I don't even lift an eyelid. Right at quitting time, I directly withdraw my soul, leaving the body to the original owner "Ancestor Wolf Emperor" to handle, while I return to my Manhattan penthouse, sink into the leather sofa, and start a holographic livestream.
"Enjoy your night shift, everyone." I take a light sip of hot coffee, coldly watching the screen as the Wolf Emperor crushes that pure-blood Alpha's spine into mush with one foot, shocking my mission wife and mother-in-law into idiots.
Chapter 1
The inferior lemon scent of silver polish mixed with the cold, musty smell of Crescent Manor's underground vault was extremely pungent.
I was wearing rough work clothes and fur-lined gloves, polishing a pure silver candlestick at a steady pace. For werewolves, silver could be lethal; therefore, maintaining antique silverware—this "lowly and high-risk" work—naturally fell to me, the only human in the entire manor, a powerless bottom-tier Omega with no magical ability.
"Gleam—"
Pure silver reflected cold light. I paused as a deep blue panel appeared before my retina:
【Wage Worker System (Cross-dimensional Version)】
【Mission: Marry into the Crescent Werewolf Clan as a "marriage shield," serving as a political buffer.】
【Mission Duration: 1095 days】
【Current Progress: 1094 days, 12 hours, 05 minutes】
【Stock Option Settlement Preview: $80 billion, S-class supernatural physique (original owner Ancestor Wolf Emperor body takeover rights).】
Looking at that countdown about to hit zero, a sense of relaxation from being about to "clock out" rippled through my calm heart.
Any normal human enduring three years as a live-in son-in-law in the Crescent Clan—this aristocratic society that viewed humans as ants—would probably have had a mental breakdown long ago. But I was different. From the first day I bound with the system, I defined my identity—I wasn't a punching bag, I was a "chosen wage worker" who signed a three-year high-salary contract.
Eighty billion dollars worked out to over seven million per hour. If I got upset with the "client" while earning such an outrageous salary, that would be an insult to my professional integrity. As for the matriarch's regular verbal abuse? That was called "job responsibilities."
The sound of high heels suddenly rang out.
"Look at his lifeless, pathetic appearance. I really don't know how such a parasite with no magical power deserves to stay in the vault."
Crescent Clan matriarch Eleanor descended the steps with several noble ladies, covering her nose tip with a folding fan in disgust.
"Arthur, put down what you're holding." Eleanor spoke coldly, her voice carrying the mental pressure of a high-ranking werewolf.
For a human Omega with no magical power, this oppression was enough to make one's legs go weak, internal organs feeling crushed by boulders. I felt the air instantly become viscous, my breathing slightly constricted. But I just swallowed the discomfort in my throat without changing expression.
After all, I was still the "son-in-law" officially recognized by the Crescent Clan. Before my value as a political shield was completely drained, these self-proclaimed elegant nobles absolutely wouldn't dare actually kill me. Since I wouldn't die, what was this bit of physiological pressure? Just treat it like a headache caused by a terrible work environment.
I put down the candlestick, stood straight, and put on a standard service industry smile: "Good day, Matriarch. How may I help you?"
Eleanor frowned. She most hated how I was like a sound-absorbing sponge, making all her malice sink without trace.
"Tonight is the full moon ceremony." She announced from her high position. "I hereby formally notify you that as Serena's shameful husband, you are stripped of the qualification to enter the main banquet hall. Not only are you forbidden from dining, I'll have someone lock you in the north tower storage room. Don't embarrass Crescent, understand?"
The noble ladies behind her burst into snickers: "If it weren't for blocking that forced marriage from the neighboring clan, this mud-blood couldn't even enter the manor sewers."
In my mind, Eleanor's words automatically converted to workplace instructions: 【Project manager notification: You don't need to attend tonight's annual meeting, you may rest in the break room with pay.】
Was there anything more wonderful in this world?
"Yes, Matriarch." I bowed slightly, the curve of my mouth precise to the millimeter. "Thank you for the arrangement. I'll stay in the storage room and won't step out. I wish you a successful ceremony tonight."
My utterly calm response was like a customer service recording. Eleanor felt like she'd punched cotton, her face flushing red with frustration. Just as she was about to explode, the vault entrance was suddenly shrouded in shadow.
A tall, cold figure appeared. My "nominal wife," high-ranking noble Serena. Her eyes were like glaciers, without a trace of warmth.
"Mother." Serena's voice was ethereal.
"Oh, Serena, why did you come to such a dirty place?" Eleanor immediately put on a motherly expression.
Serena's gaze swept over me like scanning a dead object: "Caleb is arriving early."
Hearing that name, Eleanor's expression changed: "Isn't that arrogant bastard supposed to appear officially tonight? Does he think his pure-blood Alpha status means he can ignore basic visiting etiquette?"
Caleb, heir of the neighboring clan, top-tier pure-blood Alpha, attempting to devour the Crescent Clan through marriage alliance. The matriarch had frantically grabbed me as a live-in son-in-law to use the lame excuse of "Serena is already married" to shut him up.
"I've already had the butler activate the main gate array." Serena took a deep breath, finally bestowing her gaze upon me. Pure class contempt, carrying an icy warning.
"Do as mother said tonight. If you dare cause any trouble in front of Caleb, I'll personally wring your neck."
Having finished her instructions, she turned and left without hesitation, her boots clicking crisply.
She was so confident that she controlled the entire situation. I watched her retreating figure, completely unmoved. Grief? Grievance? Humiliation? Don't be ridiculous—what feelings could I have for a "nominal business supervisor" with an extremely poor attitude? I only regretted that she delayed my time looking at the countdown panel.
"Did you hear that, waste." Eleanor sneered. "Before Caleb tears off our roof, honestly be a shrinking turtle!"
The noble ladies left as if avoiding plague, and the blast door sealed shut again. I breathed a sigh of relief and summoned the panel again.
【Ding—Resignation handover countdown entering final 12 hours. Hidden guaranteed reward activated: Manhattan penthouse cleaned and ready, trillion-dollar trust password to be sent tomorrow night.】
I dropped the fake smile and put on a genuine, truly human vibrant smile: "Twelve more hours of work. Fuck the silverware, I'm about to retire."
"ROAR————!!!!!!"
A deafening engine roar like a thunderstorm exploded in front of the manor! Immediately after, a violent, absolutely oppressive wolf howl tore through the night sky.
A substantial dark red Alpha pressure swept like a tsunami. Even through the underground soil layers, the crystal chandelier above my head still exploded with a "bang," glass shards pouring down. Air raid sirens instantly echoed throughout Crescent territory.
My eardrums ached from the pressure, my chest felt hit by a sledgehammer, but I just stood among the shattered glass, calmly patting the dust off my shoulders.
That arrogant pure-blood Alpha was making his early forced entry, clearly planning to strike first before tonight's ceremony, eliminating any shields. Of course, this definitely included me, the nominal Crescent son-in-law.
"A final surprise inspection before resignation..." I sighed, methodically unbuttoning two buttons of my work clothes.
Since I needed to process my resignation, let this carnival serve as my final overtime experience. Anyway, in twelve hours, the true owner of this body would reclaim it and settle all these accounts for me.
