Oops, I Fed My Future Boss Instead of the Wolf

Chapter 3

I became a regular visitor to the basement.

The man refused to tell me his name, so I called him Mr. Gray Wolf. Every time he heard it, his expression darkened, but the ears on top of his head turned toward me.

To perform my duties as his "caregiver" more effectively, I ordered a collection of supplies online.

Foam corner guards, because his vision came and went and he had bruised his arm the last time he walked into the furniture.

Two soft-bristled brushes for the tangles in his tail.

And a plush reindeer that squeaked. The product page described it as a "durable chew toy for large dogs."

When I put the reindeer beside his bed, he gave me a flat look.

"What is that?"

"A toy," I said confidently. "You must get bored lying around all day. You can chew it to pass the time."

"I'm not a dog."

"I know you're not a dog. You're a wolf. Wolves need to exercise their teeth too, don't they? Your fangs are so sharp—"

He shoved the reindeer to the back of the nightstand, making his lack of interest perfectly clear.

The next morning, I found it beside his pillow with one ear squashed flat. A soft pink light glowed on his collar, and the gray wolf icon had closed its eyes as though snoring.

I soon learned his preferences. He disliked sweet medicine but would drink it mixed into black coffee. He hated anyone standing behind him, so I had to show him my hands before applying ointment to his ears. His tail relaxed after the third stroke of the brush, but when I reached the base, he always looked up and glared at me. Yet his tail never truly pulled away.

His tail was also the hardest part of him to care for. The basement was damp, and its long fur matted whenever it got wet. One evening, after his shower, his tail dripped all the way down the hall, leaving a dark trail across the floor.

"Stop." I chased him with a towel. "It needs to be dried."

"I'll take care of it."

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on the couch with the hair dryer pointed at the wall and his wet tail hidden behind him. The poison made his vision unreliable. He would rather warm up the wall than admit he couldn't see the controls.

I unplugged it and wrapped his tail in a towel to absorb the water. It trembled once in my arms, then went stiff.

"Does that hurt?"

"...No."

"Then stop moving."

I parted the thick fur and let warm air reach the roots. The rising steam carried a faint cedar scent. I was too busy brushing out the tangles to notice that he never stopped watching me. When the tip of his tail was fluffy again, he reached out and touched my hair.

"You're wet here too."

He quickly withdrew his hand.

The pink light on his collar flashed. I had never seen pink before.

"Why is your collar flashing pink? Is it broken?"

His ears reddened again. "...No."

"Then what does it mean?"

He turned his face away. "You talk too much."

The next day, I found a new hair dryer in the bathroom. Someone had stuck large black-and-white labels on the controls. Apparently, he still preferred to handle his own tail.

Before I applied his ointment, Mara called again.

"Has Shadow had a bath?"

I guiltily glanced at the man whose tail I had just dried. "Y-Yes."

"You bathed him?"

"He bathed himself! I only dried his tail!"

Mara hummed. "As long as it's dry. By the way, has he been howling at night? Wolves have extra energy around the full moon. Remember to take him out for exercise. Keep him on a leash so he doesn't run off or jump on anyone. If he sees someone he likes, he'll go right up and sniff them. Wolves are very direct about their enthusiasm, so don't be alarmed."

I imagined the man pouncing on someone and sniffing them, and my face heated. "I-I understand."

When I ended the call, I found him staring straight at me.

"You're taking me for a walk?"

"No! I'm not! Don't listen to my aunt!"

He looked suspiciously close to smiling. The pink light came on again. I gave up trying to decipher it. It wasn't as if he would ever tell me the truth.

My aunt committed the crime, and her niece was paying the debt. I wasn't caring for a man. I was training a wolf.

Later, before applying ointment behind his ear, I held my hand in front of him. "May I touch you?"

He studied my hand, then lowered his head after a moment. His ear trembled softly against my palm as the damp towel brushed its base.

"Why are you so good at caring for people?" he asked.

During the years my mother was seriously ill, Mara had always been working night shifts. I had been forced to teach myself how to cook, change dressings, and care for someone.

"Someone in my family used to be sick. I learned over time."

On the fifth day, I came downstairs 10 minutes late. He was already seated at the table with nothing in front of him, his tail tapping the chair leg again and again.

"No medicine today?"

I brought out the steak. "So you were waiting for me."

"I was only waiting for my medicine."

His tail tapped the chair again.

I had to go to the office during the day to complete my onboarding paperwork, so I bought the cheapest remote-controlled mobile camera I could find for 9.9. If it lost its signal, it followed the basement wall in search of its charger, automatically syncing the footage to my medical app along the way. Every day at the same time, it rolled to his feet and played his medication reminder at full volume. More than once, it annoyed him enough to raise a foot over it.

"Don't step on it!" I shouted through the speaker. "If you break it, you'll have to pay for it!"

His foot hovered in midair, then withdrew.

When I connected at noon, he had already set out his medicine and water. I drove the ball into his foot. "Why are you taking your medicine without a fight?"

He glared in the general direction of the camera. "Because it won't stop making noise if I don't."

"Oh, so I finally annoyed you into it." I spun the ball around on the table and noticed that there was only medicine in front of him. "Where's your water? The doctor said a full glass!"

I nudged the glass toward his hand with the camera. At the end of his patience, he picked it up and took a sip.

I applauded enthusiastically through the screen. "Wonderful! You can take your own medicine and drink water like a big boy!"

A vein throbbed in his temple. A red light flashed on his collar, displaying the word Agitated.

I burst out laughing at the screen.

"One green capsule and a full glass of water," I said through the speaker. "You'll get a reward when you're done."

"What reward?"

"I'll brush your tail tonight."

The speaker went silent for several seconds. Then I heard the faint sound of a capsule dropping into the glass.

That evening, I had barely sat on the couch before his gray tail settled across my knees. I stroked the fluffy fur with a smile. "Are you asking for your reward?"

He sat with his back to me, reading a book. The tips of his ears were red. "My tail did that on its own."

"Of course. Your tail put itself there. You had nothing to do with it." Suppressing a laugh, I began to brush.

The gray wolf icon on the collar closed its eyes in contentment. Clearly, he was loving this.

On the seventh day, his treatment instructions said he needed 30 minutes of moonlight every day to suppress the poison. Afraid the neighbors would see his ears and tail, I waited until after midnight to take him to the roof.

The iron stairs were slippery from the rain. He walked ahead of me, his black coat hiding the treatment collar, though his hood couldn't contain his ears.

Moonlight fell over the elevated rail line. The night wind blew his gray tail out from beneath his coat, and it gently pressed against my ankle.

I led him around the roof three times.

"Once I get my first paycheck, I'll hire you a lawyer," I said, breaking the silence. "No matter what excuse Mara has for locking you up, I'll get you out."

He turned his face toward me. "Where do you work?"

"Silvermoon Biotech, in the Clinical Data Department."

"Who signed your offer?"

"The head of the company. The signature looked like a bunch of scribbles, so I couldn't tell who it was."

He lowered his head and laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm worried about your boss."

On the 10th day, I cut my fingertip while slicing meat. He seized my hand, and a flash of silver passed through his eyes.

When the tip of his tongue licked away the bead of blood, the gray wolf on his collar opened its eyes completely. The pink light flashed so fast it seemed ready to burn out the display, and the little wolf's tail wagged in a blur.

"My mate."

Goose bumps rose all over my arms.

Wait. What had he just said?

My mind raced to find a hundred reasonable explanations. The poison had impaired his judgment. Long-term isolation had made him dependent on me. Yes, that was it. This was a patient's attachment to the person who fed him. Animal instinct. Stockholm syndrome. I couldn't take it seriously. Absolutely not!

He couldn't possibly have fallen in love with me. My aunt was imprisoning him!

But the little wolf on his collar was wagging its tail so fast it had become a blur!

The more I thought about it, the less any of this added up. Finally, I video-called Mara. "You have to let him go! Locking someone up, forcing him to take drugs, and controlling him with a metal collar isn't treatment. It's a crime!"

Mara was organizing patient files. She asked absently, "What crime?"

Then she saw the man behind me, and the papers fell from her hands.

"Who is that behind you? Point the camera at his collar. Now!"

I read the code aloud. "Moon-01."

Mara's lips went white. "Ivy Carter, back away and lower your head! Don't touch his ears again!"

"The werewolf you've been caring for isn't ordinary."

"He's Silvermoon's missing A—"

The screen went black.