Chapter 7: Lucian’s POV

Stepping out of the capital's temporary holding cell took less than three minutes total.

In this rotten Lower District, a few gold coins plus a deliberate leak of Alpha pheromones were enough to make those low-ranking Beta guards weak at the knees. That was all it took to smooth over every complication.

"I'll tear that little bastard apart. I'll crush every bone in his body one inch at a time."

The Northern noble stalked through the dark alley, his voice cold as a storm sweeping across the ice fields. His expensive hunting attire was stained with wine and mud, and the pressure radiating from him was enough to freeze the moisture in the air into frost.

I leaned against the brick wall at the alley entrance, lighting a hand-rolled cigarette and exhaling a lazy smoke ring.

"Save your energy, Northern young master." I brushed dust from my black leather jacket, voice dripping with mockery. "Getting played like a fiddle in a common tavern by a street rat who doesn't even have pheromones. If your family found out, they'd laugh themselves sick."

He whipped around, murderous intent churning in his eyes. "Vagrant. Don't think just because you took one punch from me at the tavern, you've earned the right to mock me. If you get in my way, I won't hesitate to kill you too tonight."

I didn't speak, just narrowed my eyes slightly.

The storm inside me was stirring restlessly. The wolf that belonged solely to the Alpha King let out a roar, wanting to tear through this disguised shell and force the arrogant noble before me to kneel and submit. But I forcibly suppressed it. Now wasn't the time to reveal my identity.

"I'm not stopping you." I tossed the cigarette butt into a puddle and ground it out. "In fact, I'd also like to know where that little con artist is hiding—the one who stole your property and screwed both of us at the tavern."

He snorted coldly, gaze directed deeper into the Lower District. "His disguise powder can mask scent well enough. But he took my Moonstone Bracelet. The faint magical resonance of moonstone is like a torch in the night to me."

Wait, Moonstone Bracelet? Ha, could he be Adrian Vale, the Northern heir? Blackpine Forest... plus that level of strength. How did I forget about him? And he actually lost the keepsake meant for my sister. Little Rogue, you've really stepped in it this time.

We moved through the labyrinthine sewers for about half an hour.

The rain fell harder, the sour rot in the air growing thicker. I frowned. As King, I'd sat in the council hall countless times listening to nobles report "Lower District security is excellent, refugee settlement is proper"—lies, all of it. But witnessing this purgatory-like quagmire firsthand still turned my stomach.

Suddenly, Adrian halted.

"Right ahead." He lowered his voice, fingers already resting on the hilt of the short sword at his waist.

We concealed ourselves behind a crumbling abandoned bell tower, following his line of sight.

This was clearly the refugee camp I'd visited before.

Same as last time—only a dozen massive iron pots bubbling and gurgling.

That little con artist in the worn newsboy cap—Little Rogue—stood beneath a rain shelter. His oversized linen jacket was soaked through, clinging tight to his frame.

He was dumping bags of cold-resistant herbs and fresh minced meat into the pots, then ladling steaming thick porridge into bowls for the long queue of emaciated low-ranking Omegas and orphaned wolf pups.

"Line up, no pushing. Everyone gets meat tonight." His voice carried a street thug's cadence, but when he bent down to wipe mud from a wolf pup's face with his sleeve, the motion was startlingly gentle.

I froze.

I watched him reach into his pocket and pull out the Moonstone Bracelet glowing with faint light—the betrothal token of the future Northern Luna. But he didn't treat it as something to flaunt. He pressed the bracelet into the hands of an elderly Omega missing an arm.

"Pry the gems off this, take them to the black market tomorrow for winter coats and coal." He instructed, "Sell the stones separately. Don't let anyone recognize the piece."

"Are you insane, Rogue?" His accomplice Miles screamed in horror. "That's a magic gem! Could buy an estate! You're just giving it away for coal?"

"Will an estate keep these kids alive through tonight?" He shot back without turning, scraping the last dregs of meat broth from the pot bottom into a little girl's bowl, then leaning exhausted against a pillar and closing his eyes.

I stood in the shadows, feeling like something had slammed hard against my chest.

Silver Crown nobles schemed for power in warm castles. My mother forced me in the council hall to marry a poisonous viper who abused servants. And my City Guard had just been hunting this "heinous bandit" citywide.

But tonight, this "heinous bandit" used stolen goods to do what should've been my duty as Alpha King.

The wolf inside me whined. An intense, undeniable sense of... recognition. It yearned to close the distance to that slight figure, to shield him from the freezing night rain with its own broad back.

The absurdity was staggering. I was feeling an impulse to claim a commoner boy as mine, to bring him under my protection and into my territory.

"This damn little bastard..." Adrian's voice cut through my thoughts.

He'd seen it too. Shock flickered in his eyes, but Northern heir pride wouldn't let him swallow the humiliation of being robbed publicly. He gritted his teeth, drew his short sword, preparing to step from the shadows.

"What are you doing?" I reached out, clamping my hand on his shoulder.

"Let go, vagrant." Adrian turned his head. "He took my future wife's betrothal token and traded it for charcoal. I'm cutting off his hand."

"Kill the only person feeding them in front of a group of starving orphans?" My voice dropped. "That's Northvale's glory?"

Adrian hesitated. He seemed stunned by the sliver of pressure I released, but recovered quickly with a sneer. "What, you want to play savior? Who do you think you are?"

"Who I am doesn't matter."

I released him, gaze returning to the little con artist leaning against the pillar, so exhausted he was practically falling asleep.

"What matters is, from now on, he's under my protection." I turned my head. "If you want to touch him, you'll have to get through my fists first."