365 DAYS OF CONTRACTUAL REVENGE

Chapter 7

The night had passed, yet sleep offered no solace to Julian Manchineel. His mind was submerged in a vortex of nightmares, a fragment of the past that relentlessly hunted him.

In the dream, he was inside a bus speeding wildly on a mountain road. Screams of terror mingled with the roar of the engine. Suddenly, a violent impact shook the entire bus, followed by a sickening sense of weightlessness. The bus hit the guardrail and plunged into a ravine, tumbling until it finally stopped at a steep angle. Instantly, flames began to lick, devouring the wreck.

Julian struggled to rise, but he felt an excruciating pain; his leg was broken and immobile. He screamed for help, his voice choked and strained by the burning agony. Thick smoke began to suffocate him, and his consciousness slowly faded.

"Help! Someone please help me!" Julian cried out, hoping someone would rescue him and pull him out of the bus that was about to consume the rest of his life.

"HELP!"

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed him. A man with brown hair, his face obscured by the smoke, struggled to drag Julian out of the burning wreckage. Julian screamed in pain, not from the heat, but from the movement of his fractured leg.

"I will save you. Be a wise and strong Alpha, Julian Manchineel," the man murmured vaguely into Julian's ear.

Then, a pain that transcended all limits struck his shoulder. Julian felt a horrifying tearing sensation. He looked up at the man who was saving him and realized he was being bitten. But it wasn't a human bite. He felt the piercing of incredibly sharp fangs sinking into his flesh—a savage assault from the smoky darkness.

Julian woke up with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat.

He was sitting up in the guest room bed, his heart pounding erratically, as if he had just run a marathon. The trauma from the incident years ago still felt terrifyingly real. He pressed his palm against his wildly beating chest, trying to calm himself.

As Julian wiped the sweat from his temples, he looked at his hands. Horror pierced him. In the dim light of dawn, his fingers seemed to elongate, and his fingernails instantly sharpened into curved, pointed werewolf claws. The change lasted only a split second, but it was enough to trigger intense panic. Julian quickly pulled his hands back, staring at them, ensuring it was just his imagination.

"Not now," he muttered, terrified of losing control.

As Julian tried to normalize his breathing, a knock sounded on his door. The knock was calm and confident.

"Julian?" Eidelweiss Quinzel's voice called from outside the door. Her tone sounded fresh and energetic. "I know it’s early, but we have to be productive. I want us to start the day with a morning run. It's good for our image."

The knock on Julian Manchineel's door sounded again, a little firmer this time. Eidelweiss Quinzel's voice called out, demanding certainty.

Julian was still frozen in the middle of the room. He closed his eyes, forcing control over his muscles, waiting until the ticklish, hot sensation in his hands completely faded. He couldn't let Eidelweiss see him in such a state of chaos.

"Julian? I don't have all day. We need to get started soon," Eidelweiss called again, her voice laced with impatience.

Julian regulated his breathing and spoke in a voice that he made sound as normal and casual as possible. "I heard you, Ms. Quinzel. Can you go ahead first? I just woke up. Give me fifteen minutes."

Eidelweiss outside the door seemed to comply. However, her voice returned, this time a little softer. "Alright. I understand. Oh, by the way, I was bored waiting, and I saw you had some ingredients in your fridge. So, I finished making some simple pancakes for breakfast."

The confession utterly astonished Julian. Eidelweiss Quinzel, the former CEO indicted for embezzlement, had just made pancakes in his kitchen.

Julian cleared his throat. "Thank you, Ms. Quinzel. That is... very kind of you. I'll eat them before my run."

"Good. I'm leaving now. I'll wait for you at the park at the end of the street. Don't be late," Eidelweiss concluded, and then the sound of her footsteps faded away from the door.

Once silence returned, Julian allowed himself to fall onto the bed. He exhaled slowly. "Calm down, it was just a dream. It was just a nightmare," he repeatedly reassured himself.

Yet, he knew it wasn't just a dream. It was a haunting memory. The incident, three years ago, when he was bitten by the mysterious brown-haired man in the burning bus wreck, was the beginning of everything. Since that day, every full moon, he knew himself to be a werewolf.

Julian was convinced that the man—the figure who saved him yet cursed him—had deliberately made him this way.

Julian rose. He stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of his body. He pulled at the loose T-shirt he was wearing, ensuring no stray hairs were left, no scratches visible. Julian had to be flawless; there was no room for suspicion in the charade he was playing.

Carefully, he opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the kitchen.

Julian's gaze instantly locked onto the scene before him. His kitchen was a disaster: flour batter was splattered across the countertop, and several cooking utensils were haphazardly discarded. Amidst the chaos, a plate of neatly stacked pancakes sat waiting. The pancakes were not aesthetically pleasing—some were too thin, some were burnt around the edges — but they were clearly edible.

Julian felt a surge of frustration. His mind, which should have been focused on the revenge plan, was now distracted by the messy kitchen.

"Good heavens," Julian muttered, staring at the remnants of the batter. "I shouldn't have let Eidelweiss cook." Yet, beneath his annoyance, he couldn't suppress a thin smile at the sight of pancakes made by a former CEO.

He reached for the most intact pancake and began to eat it. Despite the slightly charred edges. He chewed slowly, his eyes fixed on the mess left by the former CEO.

Surprisingly.

"It's actually decent," Julian murmured.

It didn't taste bad. Certainly not the five-star quality pancakes Eidelweiss was probably accustomed to, but the simple combination of batter and minimal ingredients turned out to be quite good, an unexpected revelation. Julian gave a slight nod, acknowledging that Eidelweiss, despite all her business acumen, still possessed a fundamental survival skill.

As he continued to eat his breakfast, Julian's instinct for order began to dominate. He couldn't tolerate the disarray, especially not in his kitchen. Julian placed his plate in the sink, then started cleaning up the flour batter scattered across the marble counter.

He washed the cooking utensils Eidelweiss had abandoned, wiped away the crumbs, and polished the stovetop until it gleamed. His movements were measured and efficient. In a short time, the kitchen was back to its original pristine state, as if a former CEO had never made an emergency breakfast there.

"At least this is much better than before," Julian said after cleaning his kitchen.