"At first… I didn't understand why Chase was so restless, shifting so much when I held him in my arms that time."
Chase's voice broke through Margaret's ears once more, arriving without warning.
There was a split-second pause before she jolted ever so slightly—not because she had been daydreaming, but because she had been far too focused. Too immersed. Her gaze had been glued to the phone screen in her hand for far too long.
Margaret then looked up, only to find Chase's face in a state that was half-dreamy, half-awake, while his intense gaze remained fixed on the phone screen Margaret was holding.
"Because he kept shifting around and I let my guard down, Chase jumped right out of my arms. I was shocked to see him run… he was so fast, I was overwhelmed trying to catch up with him."
"But I stopped in my tracks as soon as Chase approached two students from your school. He quietly sneaked up on one of them who was holding a sandwich—with his favorite fillings: vegetables, chicken breast, sweet sauce mixed with mayo. And that happens to be my favorite, too."
"In the next second, greedily and swiftly, Chase snatched that sandwich and bolted straight into your school grounds. Those two students immediately started chasing him from behind."
He paused for a moment—not because he had run out of words, but because he was intentionally creating a gap.
From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Margaret—brief, swift, almost impolite—like someone stealing a look while pretending to be indifferent. He wanted to know if, by his silence, Margaret would interrupt him or not.
But all he found was stillness.
Instead of speaking, Margaret remained silent, her gaze seemingly shouting that she was waiting for the rest of the story.
"At that moment, I didn't know what to do. It was impossible for me to enter your school… even though I had tried my best to cover myself up so people wouldn't recognize who I really was, I still had to be extremely careful."
"So, I only approached the low fence that separated where I was from where Chase was being chased by those two students."
"I saw them—those two students—continually chasing Chase until he tripped over a large root of one of the trees he was passing to evade them. I let out a muffled scream when I saw him fall, and his paw began to bleed."
"But… what made my blood boil was that those two students mocked him instead of helping. I still couldn't do anything… I was confused and lost."
"The breaking point was when one of them raised his foot, aiming it at Chase's tiny body. My eyes widened instantly. I summoned the courage to jump over the fence, no longer caring about being 'careful'…"
"However, right as I was about to jump…"
He stopped, his gaze lifting to meet Margaret's eyes directly.
"You arrived first."
That smile reappeared on his face.
There was a sense of relief there—the kind of relief that surfaces after a tension so tight it nearly suffocates the chest finally finds a narrow gap through which to escape.
"I heard everything you said back then… and I learned your name."
"While you were busy dealing with those two students, Chase looked confused, having no idea what was happening. Out of fear, he quietly slipped away and hid somewhere. I kept track of his movements and finally found him tucked behind some low leaves near the short fence. I whispered to Chase, calling him out. As soon as he recognized my voice, he jumped straight into my arms—a movement that none of you noticed."
"When I decided to leave—having to move quickly because his paw was bleeding—I accidentally overheard your frustrated mumbles. I actually confronted those two when they walked out of the gate and scolded them, but unfortunately, they just thought I was crazy for defending my own puppy."
A small, soft chuckle escaped his lips.
It wasn't a laugh born of genuine humor, nor was it one of happiness—it was a brief laugh born from a sense of bewilderment at himself. It was a silent admission that everything that had just unfolded felt utterly ridiculous when thought over again.
"I didn't dwell on it for too long because I had to rush Chase to the vet. Once everything was settled, I thought about giving you something as a token of my gratitude. So, on my way back from the vet while carrying Chase, I stopped by a sandwich shop. I thought it was the perfect gift—because by tasting that sandwich, you'd know the flavor and texture, so that one day, if you ever met Chase again, you could make one for him."
"But just as I was about to give it to you outside the shop, my phone suddenly rang. It was news of an incident that happened in front of your school. There were videos and images everywhere, even though the victim's face was blurred."
"However, when one image appeared without the blur, I was shocked to see your face there. Rumors began to spread that you were a trainee from ASpire Entertainment."
"I rushed back into the bakery, asking if they had a sheet of white paper and a pen. The pen they gave me happened to be red, and the ink was nearly dry, so I had to trace over the words repeatedly to make them clear—until it looked almost like dried blood."
"Without a second thought, I headed straight to ASpire Entertainment, leaving Chase at the bakery. I met one of the staff members and handed over a bouquet of roses and a black tote bag, introducing myself as your school friend."
"So, that's what really happened, Margaret."
He ended his long explanation with a smile.
Then, his hand rose. His fingers gently tucked a few stray strands of Margaret's hair that had fallen across her face—a simple gesture, yet one heavy with apparent care.
"Now… since I've revealed everything to you…"
"Please… don't be afraid of me, okay?"
"I am not what you think I am. And I'm sorry… if I've caused you to think such strange things that left you terrified."
His gaze then shifted, lingering for a few seconds on the brown bandage wrapping Margaret's foot. Concern crept into his eyes, clear and seemingly honest, before he locked his gaze back onto her face.
"How is your foot, hm? Does it still hurt? Earlier, while we were walking to the cafe, you seemed to be struggling a bit."
"How about I take you home? Consider it my apology… for my mistakes today that left you trembling with fear."
Margaret, of course, didn't answer right away. Instead, she remained still, bowing her head and staring at the now-dark phone screen.
Her mind was loud. It was as if every word Chase had uttered, every pause, every gentle smile, was crashing into one another inside her head, creating a chaotic noise that almost made her lose her bearings.
A faint ache throbbed at the back of her head—not like the sharp pain from before that had nearly brought her to her knees, but enough to make her let out a soft, pained hiss.
Truthfully, she didn't know what to say; she didn't know how to react. It wasn't that she didn't believe him. In fact, she desperately wanted to believe everything Chase had said. She had even begun to feel a pang of guilt.
Yet, alongside that guilt, something felt off—something jarring—though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Every word that spilled from Chase's lips, which was supposed to be soothing, only raised more questions in her heart.
Meanwhile, Chase felt unsettled.
Margaret's silence wasn't just any silence—it was thick, dense, and brought forth an expression that couldn't lie: a clear glimmer of suspicion remained in her eyes.
Despite Chase's desperate efforts to weave every word, weighing every intonation, and ensuring there wasn't even the smallest crack for Margaret to doubt him, he realized that this girl was not so easily deceived.
The silence lasted far too long. Too long to be tolerated.
Chase's heart pressed him, his mind raced, and he knew the only way to break the tension was to take action.
With a movement that was cautious yet firm, both of his hands rose and cupped Margaret's face—making her eyes widen as her breath hitched.
"Margaret…"
"Why are you silent? So, you're choosing to be angry rather than to trust me?"
The tip of Chase's thumb brushed against Margaret's lower lip, pressing down slowly with a gentle movement that was almost imperceptible, yet enough to make her flinch again. The slight difference in the color of her lips—different from usual—caught his attention.
At that moment, his mind suddenly drifted back to a few hours ago. To the crowded pedestrian crossing, when the traffic light turned red and they had stopped side by side.
The image surfaced vividly, impossible to banish: that doctor—that Frankestein—kissing Margaret in a way that made his blood boil.
"Are you rejecting my apology, Margaret?"
"Tell me... what must I do to make you forgive me?"
His voice dropped drastically, like someone whispering in a weak, fragile tone.
"You mentioned 'Shapeshifter' earlier, didn't you?"
"What did you mean by that, Margaret…? Revenge on humans? Humans who can transform into animals? Where did you hear that… and where did you learn of it, hm?"
"If Shapeshifters truly existed, just as you said… what would you do if one of them was someone who loved you, Margaret? Would you hate them… or would you eliminate them for interfering with humanity?"
"But, Margaret… aren't humans themselves far more sinful than any other creature? If you defend a sinful being, wouldn't that mean you've lost your conscience?"
The movement of his thumb, which had been gentle just moments ago, suddenly shifted. It remained against Margaret's lower lip, but the pressure he applied grew deeper—firm and unrelenting.
Margaret noticed every single detail. Each time Chase's thumb brushed against her lower lip, she winced—again and again.
But it wasn't the touch that made her tremble.
The word—"Shapeshifter"—as it spilled from Chase's lips, the way he pronounced it, his expression, and the sudden, cold glaze in his eyes as he stared at her lips… everything made the air around them shift instantly. A chilling, horrific aura suddenly enveloped the man, freezing the moment into something heavy, almost terrifying.
Margaret swallowed hard. She was not at all used to the abrupt changes Chase could manifest—whether it was his tone, his smile that could turn piercing, or words that seemed to carry hidden meanings far too complex for her to grasp.
Slowly, she opened her mouth, attempting to utter something light—perhaps a simple gesture of guilt for accusing him, or just to de-escalate the situation. Even as a part of her heart still rejected all of Chase's explanations, she realized that continued silence was simply unacceptable.
She took a breath, arranging the words on her lips, trying to find a tone that sounded calm and soft, without being defiant or sparking further suspicion. But before those words could escape, something unexpected happened.
Chase's eyes widened instantly.
A split second later, a heavy blow landed squarely on Chase's cheek. His body lurched to the side, losing balance, and slammed into the table with a sharp, metallic clatter.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO MARGARET, YOU BASTARD!!!"
Frankestein's voice echoed through the cramped room.
Before Margaret could even process what was happening, Frankestein had already strode quickly toward Chase, who lay on the floor with blood trickling from his lip.
His powerful hand gripped the collar of Chase's shirt with a firm clench, pulling Chase's face close to his own.
"A famous idol… out on a date with someone else's woman, huh?!"
"Aren't you afraid that stalkers… or your haters might see you here… with a girl who… a girl who belongs to someone else?!"
"Margaret… she is my lover… and my future wife!"
"Don't you dare touch her!"