Chapter 2: Aftershocks of New-Lun City
1014 Words
The long holiday in New-Lun City had finally drawn to a close, and the metropolis stirred like a colossal beast awakening from a drugged stupor. While most were still clinging to the fading warmth of the break, the "worker bees" of the Valkyrie Fashion Empire had already swarmed back to their glass-and-steel hives.
Astrid exited her ride two blocks away from the headquarters. Sebastian’s armored luxury sedan was far too conspicuous; in a workplace governed by rigid bloodlines and ironclad hierarchies, even parking in the wrong spot could spark rumors enough to drown a person.
She slipped into a secluded apothecary and purchased a vial of specialized "Purification Elixir."
The concoction was designed to wash away foreign energy interference. Although Killian hadn’t seemed to complete the final "Blood Marking" the night before, for a half-vampire on the verge of Awakening like herself, any lingering essence from an Apex Alpha werewolf could lead to a catastrophic exposure of her identity.
"Better safe than sorry," she muttered, downing the bitter liquid. It scorched her throat like liquid fire.
Her phone vibrated, displaying a name that made her stomach churn: Julian.
The very werewolf who once called her his "only salvation," only to turn around and cling to the skirts of a pureblood vampire princess. Five years—she had believed it was a rare, cross-species romance, until she discovered Julian was using her design talent as a bargaining chip to buy his way into a higher-tier clan.
Astrid let out a cold snort and cut the signal. She had no intention of exposing them yet; she would hoard her strength and kick them into hell at their most triumphant moment.
Just as she was about to stow her phone, a system notification lit up: [Killian Valerius has requested to add you as a contact.]
Astrid froze in the middle of the crosswalk, her pupils contracting. The high-and-mighty Lord of the Wolves? Why? Was this a "predator’s follow-up" on his prey, or some twisted high-society amusement?
She gritted her teeth and swiped decisively—Declined.
She was merely a fringe designer at Valkyrie. In her year at the company, she hadn't even earned the right to step onto the top floor. If not for the unprecedented fashion show after-party last night, she would never have crossed paths with that man who symbolized both death and absolute power.
An emergency notification popped up on the internal channel: [All staff report to the conference room in ten minutes.]
Inside the Valkyrie Building.
In the elevator lobby, Astrid bumped into her colleague and only confidante, Claire.
"Astrid? Have you undergone a personality transplant?" Claire’s sharp eyes raked over her. "You usually loathe these restrictive couture suits. Why are you dressed like a Duchess preparing for a royal audience today?"
Astrid adjusted the lapel of her deep-purple blazer, masking her inner turmoil. "Occasionally, one needs expensive fabric to armor their fighting spirit."
Claire gave her a playful pat on the shoulder. "Stop acting tough. Though, I must say, this outfit certainly highlights your... 'natural gifts.' I wonder which lucky bastard will be the one to finally claim your lock."
Astrid’s body stiffened. A certain "lucky bastard" had already spent the previous night savagely claiming far more than that.
Just as the elevator doors were about to hiss shut, a hand clad in black leather blocked the sensor.
Killian Valerius stepped in, flanked by Sebastian. In an instant, the atmospheric pressure inside the car plummeted—the natural domain of an apex predator.
Astrid held her breath, pressing herself against the mirrored wall. Killian stood less than ten centimeters away. The scent of cold cedar mixed with a dangerous, lupine pheromone seeped into her skin. Her cheeks flushed—a physiological rebound from her bloodline being forcibly suppressed.
When they finally reached the 28th floor, she and Claire bolted out as if escaping a slaughterhouse.
"Good God!" Claire gasped, leaning against the hallway wall. "Did you see the news? Someone snapped a photo after the party last night—there was a woman in the Lord’s car! This madwoman was supposedly clinging to his neck, kissing him frantically, and he didn't throw her out! Has the 'Ascetic Tyrant' finally been tamed?"
Astrid’s face turned a shade of red so deep it looked painful. It was her. The "madwoman" was her.
"Is that so," she managed a stiff reply.
Ten minutes later, the meeting commenced.
Caspian, the Creative Director—a vampire noble with a brooding, melancholic beauty—was enthusiastically projecting the quarterly sales curves.
"We owe our gratitude to a certain 'Silver Soul'," Caspian’s gaze swept across the room and landed heat-drenched on Astrid. "Astrid’s designs are the sharpest weapons we have this season. They allow the werewolves to feel elegance and give the vampires a sense of power."
Caspian was always like this, peppering his praise with flirtatious undertones. But Astrid knew that behind those eyes lay nothing but cold, calculated profit.
As the meeting neared its end, Sebastian suddenly knocked and entered.
"Miss Astrid," Sebastian said, wearing his trademark fox-like grin, "the Lord would like to see you in his office on the 30th floor."
The room fell into a deathly silence.
The 30th floor—internally whispered about as "Silent Hill." The last director who botched a contract there was rumored to have been so traumatized by the sheer aura of the room that they were still in a sanitarium.
"Sebastian, is something wrong?" Caspian asked, an eyebrow arching in concern.
"Classified." Sebastian’s lips remained a vault.
Astrid took a deep breath, snapped her laptop shut, and stood up. "If I’m not down in thirty minutes, Claire, make sure to leak all my unpublished manuscripts. Don't let those blood-sucking brats profit from them."
The elevator ascended to the 30th floor.
The air here felt several degrees colder, imbued with an inviolable majesty.
"What’s his mood like?" Astrid whispered tentatively.
"Surprisingly good." Sebastian winked cryptically. "After all, someone’s 'savage performance' last night gave the Lord a taste of something... entirely unprecedented."
Astrid felt something in her brain completely explode.
- Writer
