"Huh?" Glen blinked after finishing with the customer. "Just a random guess."
But Laila was already launching into it, "That day really scared her, bless her heart. Poor Bonnie—since then, she's become quiet, always spacing out alone. We've tried cheering her up, but nothing works. Her mom's even more worried; she's come to school multiple times to check on Bonnie, sometimes hiding in a corner, crying. I've seen it."
"If I hadn't dragged her along, none of this would've happened… It's all my fault…"
As she spoke, the kindhearted girl's eyes reddened, threatening tears. Glen quickly gave a wry smile and comforted her:
"How could this be your fault? You're a good girl, we all know that, right?"
He shot a look at the three boys behind her. After a few seconds' delay, they piped up in agreement.
Glen was pleased, then kept consoling her: "So it's not your fault. If anyone's to blame, it's…"
It's me! Damn it! Glen snapped back to reality—hadn't he caused this whole mess? He coughed twice, cutting himself off.
"Anyway, it'll be fine. Time washes everything away. Trust me…"
I should go check on that girl today. Total screw‑up on my part… Glen chided himself inwardly.
"Yeah, Laila, don't worry too much. Bonnie will be okay," said Bok, the red‑haired boy, jumping in to comfort her.
The others echoed the sentiment.
Even Pernerth seemed like she wanted to step forward, but after raising her hand, she stayed put.
When Laila's mood improved a bit, Glen glanced off into the distance and teased, "Looks like that fancy lady's running out of patience. Go on."
He made sure to keep his voice loud enough for the blonde to hear—intentionally.
Hearing that, Pernerth lifted her chin and gave a light huff, like a proud swan.
Laila felt even more ashamed, but since Glen had already said it, she figured she shouldn't linger and mess with his business.
"Sorry. I'll talk to her properly. Please don't hold it against her." Laila bowed, then left with her friends.
Glen waved cheerfully and went back to work.
Once they were farther away, Bok couldn't help asking, "Laila, how'd you meet that guy? And what really happened to you and Bonnie? You won't tell us anything…"
Laila pressed her lips together. She'd been reluctant to come out at all—her father's threat still loomed, and being out in public didn't feel safe. Patrols had increased, so street violence was unlikely, but the worry never really left her.
She'd only agreed to come out because her friends cared, and she wanted to ease their minds.
Now that Bok had asked outright, she knew she couldn't stay silent. In a low voice, she told them about encountering her father.
Her friends gasped. Pernerth even stepped forward, took Laila's hand, eyes full of genuine concern.
"That's terrifying! How could you not tell us? You must have been so scared. Stay at my place for a few days—bring Bonnie too. My family's guards will keep you safe."
Feeling the sincerity, Laila's irritation toward Pernerth faded. She shook her head. "I can't. Mom needs me. But you can take Bonnie—she needs it more."
"It's fine, we can take your mom too…" Pernerth tried to persuade her, but Laila clearly didn't want to discuss it further, so she dropped it.
…
After seeing the group off, Glen's meat stall kept business as usual.
Chatting casually with customers, he learned what had been going on in town: several children had gone missing, putting families on edge. Victims' families often caused a scene at the police station, and under that pressure, the officers had been patrolling heavily—hence the checkpoint he'd run into earlier.
This is likely tied to Laila's father. If they could, they probably wouldn't stop at teenagers either. Human traffickers? Pretty rampant in this era, sadly. Glen mulled it over during a break, a little distracted.
I'll look into it when I get the chance. He stretched and muttered to himself.
In his past life, he'd loathed traffickers—if he ever met one, he'd hit hard, no mercy.
"Boss, how much for the meat?"
A lovely voice pulled Glen back to the present.
"Four coppers a Bela…" Glen answered automatically, but froze when he saw who was at the stall.
It was a stunning woman, wearing an exquisite, wide‑brimmed hat and a low‑key but luxurious long dress, with black lace gloves on her hands.
Her skin was pale—unnaturally so—and her lips were vivid red. She stood out like a sore thumb.
She was looking at him with a half‑smile.
"Miss, you're not normal…" Glen raised an eyebrow.
The "not‑normal" lady's smile stiffened. She'd imagined all kinds of reactions, but not that.
"Heh…" She smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear, a smile returning. "Care to explain how I'm not normal?"
It wasn't just her appearance—her scent was off, too. Glen's blood stirred faintly. If she'd carried Bayek's aura, he wouldn't have been surprised, but she didn't.
"Everywhere," Glen replied with a straight face.
"You…" The lady narrowed her beautiful eyes, as if trying to see through him. Suddenly, she propped a hand on the counter, her crimson lips near his ear, voice soft as perfume: "But you're not normal either, Mister Werewolf."
"Oh, you figured it out. I'm so shocked," Glen smirked.
The lady was thrown by his reaction again, and then was actually a bit peeved. A mere werewolf acting cocky in front of her?
But she suppressed the flare of annoyance—getting mad at an enemy was amateur. Grace was key.
"A werewolf selling pork in a human town? Your alpha can't even feed you?" She ran a finger along a slab of meat, teasing.
What is this woman? Looks like a vampire, but it's broad daylight—vampires hate sunlight, right? Super vampire? Glen watched her closely and asked casually, "Alpha? What alpha?"
"Are you a stray mutt?!" Her eyes widened; this time, the surprise wasn't hidden.
"Try saying that again!" Glen glared.
Unfazed by the threat, she covered her mouth and giggled, shoulders shaking.
Glen's look immediately shifted to you're nuts.
After laughing her fill, she turned back to him with a non sequitur:
"Old Wolf King would be mighty pissed if he knew what you're up to now."