Fated to the Sapphire Alpha

Chapter 12: Dinner with Werewolves

As I took my seat, trying my best to ignore the tension radiating from the Knights, I couldn’t shake the feeling that every eye in the room had zeroed in on me the moment I sat down. It was like one of those nightmares where you’re standing on a stage, utterly exposed, only to realize too late that everyone is laughing because you’re the only one who didn’t know you were naked. A flush of embarrassment crept up my neck, making me feel hot under the collar.

To my relief, once everyone settled into their places, I realized no one was whispering about me. Instead, their conversations drifted around odd topics I couldn’t quite follow. Soon, plates of food appeared before us, and I felt an uneasy sense of detachment, watching everyone effortlessly maneuver through the proper dining etiquette like they’d rehearsed it all their lives. In contrast, I was like a fish out of water, staring at a neat line of utensils with no clue which to use. The dining style here felt akin to eating like royalty—an antiquated ritual I’d never been taught.

Eating was indeed a blessing, but the reality was I’d never been guaranteed a proper meal growing up. My nutrition was…let’s just say, as poor as it gets. I’d been raised on survival mode, and here, surrounded by so much abundance, I felt woefully unprepared. A heavy sigh escaped me as I tried to steel myself, knowing I was about to fail at something that seemed so simple for everyone else. I reached out to ask the person beside me for guidance, only to be interrupted by a voice.

“Is everything okay?” Kyle’s voice came from my left, his eyes studying me with a hint of concern.

I shook my head quickly, not wanting to draw any more attention. If only I’d had a better upbringing, one not clouded by ignorance and neglect. Then perhaps my life wouldn’t be littered with so many obstacles, diagnoses, and limitations.

As I glanced over the dishes, my eyes landed on the mashed potatoes. That, at least, was safe territory. But the sight of the steak beside it made my stomach twist with memories. My mother had strictly rationed my food, allowing only five bites of steak, always served raw. I swallowed hard, reminded of the misery of those meals. Unlike here, the school cafeteria had at least offered thoroughly cooked (if tasteless) food.

Carefully selecting a fork I hoped was the right one, I took measured bites of the mashed potatoes, cutting the steak into five small pieces, just as I’d learned to do. Even as I ate, a familiar tightness settled in my stomach—a response years in the making. This wasn’t something that would change overnight, no matter how much I wished it could. My body was used to this strange, self-imposed deprivation, and any sudden shift would take years to undo.

Just as I finished the potatoes, Kyle leaned in again, his voice low but insistent. “Please tell me those five bites of steak aren’t all you’re planning to eat.”

His tone was a mixture of concern and reproach, and it hit me like a slap. His voice was too close to those harsh reprimands I’d grown up with—the same scolding tone that once made me feel like a worthless, ungrateful fool for even daring to need or want more. The memories his words dredged up made my hands shake so violently that I nearly dropped my fork. Automatically, I set it down, retreating into myself to avoid drawing any more attention.

Then, Zara’s voice cut through the air. “Kyle, your tone scared her. Control yourself.”

I glanced up, half-convinced I’d misheard, but no—it was Zara, standing up for me. She shot Kyle a look that practically dared him to object, and he cleared his throat, looking chastened.

“I didn’t mean to sound angry. It’s just…that’s such a waste of—”

“Of both our time,” Zara interrupted, surprising me for a second time. “Kyle, if you don’t want to make a scene, then stop paying attention to her. Or me. None of us are perfect. I made mistakes, and so have you, but the difference is, her life is finally starting to improve. And if I can take responsibility for my own actions, so can you.”

Zara turned to me, her expression softening with an apology that left me almost speechless. Had Zara really just defended me?

The question echoed in my mind. Did I somehow fall into an alternate universe? Before I could process the thought, Zara turned to me and spoke gently.

“Mishi, I know I’ve been…difficult, to put it mildly. I’m sure you’ve felt afraid of me, and I wanted it that way. But if you’re willing to let me, I’d like to start fresh. You have a bright future, and I don’t want to end up as a shadow on it.”

I couldn’t find the words to respond. Zara, who’d been a player and, honestly, a bit of a bully, was now asking for a second chance. All I managed was a nod as she moved two chairs away, leaving a bit of distance that gave me space to breathe.

The dinner resumed without interruption, though the tension in the room had thickened. I noticed that Sir and Mrs. Knight were casting disapproving glances toward Kyle, who sat stiffly, clearly aware of their scrutiny. My stomach felt officially done with food. I’d had enough of feeling watched and judged for one night.

Summoning the courage, I looked over at Sir Knight and asked, “May I be excused?”

He wiped his mouth, set down his utensils, and pushed his chair back with a calm authority. “Let me show you the way, Mishi. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And no, you’re not in trouble. My son, however, is another story.”

Relief washed over me. It was a comfort to know his stern gaze wasn’t meant for me. As we stood, Kyle looked as if he’d rather face a firing squad than whatever lecture awaited him. It struck me as ironic—he, who had everything handed to him, was finally facing consequences. Meanwhile, I’d spent my whole life anticipating punishment for every small mistake.

Walking beside Sir Ken offered a strange reassurance. He was an intimidating man, built like a wall of muscle, the kind you’d expect to see in a gym. Next to him, I felt like a frail twig, and yet his presence, somehow, made me feel safer.

After a short walk, Sir Knight opened the door to what was clearly his office, gesturing for me to step inside. The room was painted a surprising shade of pink, resembling Pepto-Bismol, and I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the unexpected color choice. I wondered if it had been chosen intentionally or was just an odd oversight in a house so meticulously decorated.

Once inside, he went to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a few items, setting them neatly in front of me. Among them was a large container of pills—a mix of colors and sizes—and a small voice recorder. The array of objects was strange, yet they seemed significant somehow.

Before I could ask about them, Mrs. Knight entered the room, followed closely by Kyle. My face must have shown my confusion because the small smile I’d started to offer turned into a worried frown as I caught sight of him.

Sir Knight addressed both of them in a firm tone. “Take a seat, Sora, and you, Kyle, sit on the sofa in the back. You’re lucky she hasn’t lost her appetite completely with that tone of yours. Teaching a monkey manners would be easier.”

With Mrs. Knight seated beside me, I felt calmer. Sir Knight leaned forward, extending the container of pills toward me with surprising gentleness.

“After your visit to the medic, it’s clear your health has suffered in ways that no apology can undo. But we’re determined to help you recover as much as possible, starting with these vitamins and supplements. You’ll need to take them with each meal, and when they’re finished, the doctor will evaluate your progress.”

Taking the container, I glanced to my left, feeling a light tap on my arm. Mrs. Knight held a glass of water and two pills in her hand, and I gratefully accepted them, setting my inhaler and container down.

Just then, Sir Knight pulled a document from a folder, looking directly at me with a seriousness that didn’t feel intimidating but instead felt purposeful.

“Mishi,” he began, “do you know anything about werewolves?”

It was such an odd question that I couldn’t help but blink, surprised. Werewolves? I thought, bewildered.