This Omega Werewolf Miss Is Superhumanly Strong

Buy a Crooked Ribbon

Night pressed blue fog against the windows.

Kyran's room had no lamps lit. Moonlight cut across the floor and stopped at his wheelchair.

He sat beside the window, sleeves pushed up, both hands clenched over his thighs.

His fist came down.

Once.

Again.

Again.

Dull sounds. No flinch. No pain. No movement.

His face did not twist. Only the skin at the corner of his mouth had gone white.

Dark leopard markings flickered beneath his skin.

For one heartbeat, power stirred.

Then vanished.

His fingers dug into the cloth over his knees until the fabric twisted.

The Night Leopard bloodline lived through beast transformation. Claws, speed, killing instinct, all of it woke when the beast answered.

Kyran's beast no longer answered.

The curse had locked it somewhere rage could not reach.

The door opened.

He turned his head.

I stood there with a bowl of black medicine.

He looked at the bowl.

Then at me.

"No."

I stepped in and kicked the door shut behind me. "I did not ask."

Moonlight laid silver over his face. Annoyingly, he was beautiful even while glaring. Not soft beautiful. Sharp beautiful. The kind that looked expensive to repair.

His shoulders filled the loose robe. Old scars crossed his collarbone and disappeared into shadow. His body was still built like a warrior, heavy with muscle, even if his legs lay silent under him.

I stared half a breath too long.

Kyran narrowed his eyes. "Why are you looking at me like you found a jewel in a trash pit?"

"Because I did."

He pushed himself backward with both hands.

Fast.

The wheelchair stood too far away. His palms struck the floor. His arms flexed hard as he dragged his body from the window, black robe scraping behind him.

I crouched.

Then I dropped to my knees and moved after him.

His expression cracked. "Why are you crawling?"

"So you do not grab something sharp."

"There is nothing sharp here."

"Your personality."

He reached for the table anyway.

I pulled rope from my belt.

Kyran stared. "Why do you carry rope?"

"I am poor. Rope is furniture, weapon, storage, and emergency career development."

"You are not tying me."

I caught his wrist.

He twisted. Strong. Even cursed, even half-starved by misery, his arm nearly tore free.

I planted one knee on his robe, looped the rope twice, and pulled.

His wrists locked together.

He looked from the knot to my face.

"You tied me up in my own room."

"Very observant."

The door opened again.

Madam Vaelthorn entered with honey cakes.

She looked at her son tied on the floor.

Looked at me holding medicine.

Then smiled like spring had arrived early and chosen violence.

"Kiki, drink your medicine."

Kyran's face darkened. "Mother."

I pinched his jaw.

His golden eyes widened.

Madam Vaelthorn knelt beside him and held his shoulder with both hands, gentle but firm.

"Open, darling."

"I am not a child."

I lifted the bowl. "Then stop requiring two adults and rope."

Three escape attempts, two muffled curses, and one near headbutt later, the medicine went down.

Kyran coughed, face pale from bitterness.

I wiped his chin with my sleeve.

"There. Alive."

"Tragic."

Madam Vaelthorn clasped her hands, eyes bright. "He drank it."

I held out my palm. "Bonus?"

Kyran looked ready to bite me.

Madam Vaelthorn placed a honey cake in my hand.

The next morning, Kyran tried money.

He sat in the garden wearing a fresh black robe embroidered with silver thread. His hair was tied back. His face was calm.

Too calm.

Sebas opened a chest at his side.

Gold light spilled out.

My breakfast bread stopped between my teeth.

"Sixty thousand Gold Suns," Kyran said. "Take it and leave."

The garden went quiet.

Sixty thousand.

A house. A real one. Bed. Stove. Lock. Meat. Full-moon chains strong enough to hold me when my body forgot how to look human.

A place where no one pointed at my ears and asked what was wrong with me.

I swallowed the bread dry.

"You think I will go?"

"I know you will."

His voice was cold.

His hand on the armrest had not moved at all.

That stillness made something in my chest itch.

I stepped forward, grabbed the chest, and hugged it.

"Correct."

His lashes lowered once.

I turned and ran.

Fast.

The guards at the gate only felt wind hit their faces. My tail streamed behind me. Bruno screamed from the courtyard, "Miss Lumi is eloping with financial independence!"

I reached Blackstone Town before my breathing slowed.

Morning smoke rose from food stalls. Shopkeepers opened shutters. Children with leopard ears chased one another over the stone road.

Then an old woman stepped into my path.

I dug my heels into the stones so hard sparks jumped.

She held up a basket.

"For you, Miss Lumi."

I stared. "Is this a trap?"

A butcher came forward with smoked meat. A baker carried warm bread. A young mother held preserved fruit. An old soldier leaned on a cane.

The butcher pushed the meat into my arms. His rough thumb brushed the back of my hand and trembled.

"Lord Kyran saved my son."

The old soldier lifted his chin toward the south. "The Black Serpent clan used to raid us every winter."

"They poisoned wells," the young mother said, pressing a child against her skirt.

"Burned farms."

"Took children."

The old soldier's jaw worked before the next words came out.

"Their chieftain, Sareth Blackcoil, hung prisoners from watchtowers. Left one alive to carry the screaming into the next village."

The street lost its morning warmth.

Sareth had been venom with a crown. Black-scaled riders. Poison altars. Wells turned rotten. Families sleeping with knives under pillows.

Then Kyran rode south, before the curse took his beast.

He broke the serpent vanguard, burned the poison altars, and killed Sareth under black rain.

Since then, Ravenhollow had slept through winter.

A little girl stepped out from behind her mother.

Her hands held a red-brown ribbon.

"For the wolf benefactor," she whispered. Then her cheeks puffed with effort. "For the life-saving benefactor."

My fingers tightened around the gold chest.

The metal edge bit into my palm.

Nobody had ever called me that with such serious eyes.

I took the ribbon.

My thumb rubbed the cloth once. Twice.

"I only did it for money," I said.

The old woman smiled. "Then maybe money brought you to the right door."

I turned before my face could do anything embarrassing.

At first I walked.

Then my boots hit faster.

Then I ran.

When I reached the Vaelthorn gate, Bruno was crying into a pink handkerchief big enough to cover a banquet table.

"She returned! Cancel the mourning pastries!"

I shoved the chest into his arms.

He folded around it with a squeak.

Madam Vaelthorn stood in the courtyard.

She looked at the ribbon on my wrist.

Then at the food in my arms.

Her eyes softened.

"The townspeople stopped you."

"They blocked traffic."

"They love him."

"They have bad taste."

She stepped closer and placed a smaller purse in my hand.

I frowned. "What is this?"

"Part of your reward. If you leave one day, you should not leave hungry."

My fingers curled around the purse.

No one had ever paid me kindly.

People had thrown scraps. Orders. Stones. Warnings before moonrise.

Madam Vaelthorn reached out and straightened the ribbon on my wrist.

Her touch was light.

Warm.

Careful.

My throat tightened so fast I had to look away.

So this was what a mother's hand felt like.

Not a chain.

Not a judgment.

Just someone fixing a crooked ribbon because she noticed.

I shoved the purse back.

"I am not leaving."

Her eyes brightened.

I lifted my chin before my ears could expose me completely.

"But the salary stays. Meat every day. Full-moon room prepared properly. And your son does not die before I get rich."

From inside the mansion, Kyran's voice cut out.

"I heard that."

I shouted back, "Good. Saves time."

His wheelchair rolled into the corridor.

He sat tall, jaw tight, golden eyes cold. Even cursed, even unable to beast-shift, he looked like a battlefield had followed him indoors and was waiting for orders.

"You came back," he said.

I grinned and tapped one ear. "Obviously. I am your life-saving benefactor."

His gaze flicked to my ear.

I lowered my hand at once. "No ear reward today. You were rude."

Bruno clasped his hands. "Young Master, apologize for the ear."

Sebas looked at the ceiling. "I resign internally."

Kyran's ears reddened by the smallest amount.

"I do not want your ridiculous ears."

"Liar."

"Annoying wolf."

"Expensive leopard."

"Uncivilized."

"Alive."

His mouth shut.

I stepped behind the wheelchair and took the handles.

This time, I pushed slowly.

For three steps.

Then a servant rushed past with a tray of letter openers.

Kyran's eyes moved.

My hands tightened.

"Do not even think about it."

"I looked."

"You looked professionally."

Bruno screamed, "Remove the stationery!"

The corridor exploded into motion. Servants ran. Sebas chased the tray. Madam Vaelthorn covered her smile with her sleeve.

Kyran sat rigid in the chair, pretending he was above all of us.

His fingers, however, brushed the armrest twice.

Right where my hand had been when I pushed him back home.

I saw it.

I pretended I did not.

The ribbon stayed warm around my wrist.

Fine.

I would stay.

Until he stopped trying to die.

Or until I became rich.

Whichever took longer.

PS

Lumi and Kyran are both beastfolk, so the kicking, throwing, dragging, and spinning are exaggerated beastfolk comedy. Their bodies are much tougher than ordinary humans.

Lumi is a low-rank wolf who cannot fully return to a human-looking form, so her wolf ears and tail remain visible. Kyran is from the Night Leopard bloodline, whose strength depends on beast transformation, but the curse has made him unable to transform for two years.