The Wolf King’s Debt Bride

hapter 1: The Girl Who Was Left Behind (Full Version) Alina was used to being invisible. At school, at home, behind the counter of the 24-hour convenience store. The large black birthmark stretching from her left cheekbone to her jawline was enough to keep anyone from staring too long. She no longer cared. Over time, being ignored became a form of protection. That night, after her usual shift, she walked home in her faded coat under the dim streetlights. Rain battered her umbrella, her fingers were numb, her stomach growling, and she kept worrying about the money that had gone missing at work—would they deduct it from her already pathetic wages? But when she opened the front door, it wasn’t the familiar smell of stir-fry or the noise of the TV that greeted her—it was dead silence. The house was half-empty. The sofa cushions were gone, the cabinets in the living room were half-cleared, even the dishes in the kitchen had been cleaned and packed away. Her ragged old rug had vanished too. Her heart turned cold. “Mom? Dad?” she called out. No answer. On the table, a single note. > "Sorry. We couldn’t do this anymore. Don’t come looking for us." Alina stood frozen. Her throat tightened, but no tears came. They were really gone. Taking all their debt with them—and leaving her behind. Before she could react, the front door slammed open. Four men in black suits stormed in. The one in front spotted her immediately. “There she is.” “Who are you?!” Alina backed away instinctively. “Your deadbeat foster parents owed our boss a fortune. Now they’ve vanished,” one of them said with a sneer. “Guess who they left behind to repay it?” Her eyes flared with disbelief. “I didn’t borrow anything from you!” She fought. Screamed. Scratched someone’s face. Even tried to defend herself with the umbrella by the door. It didn’t matter. They were professionals. In seconds, they had her tied up and tossed into the back of a black SUV. --- She was blindfolded and brought to an unfamiliar mansion. When the cloth was pulled off, she found herself kneeling on a cold marble floor, under a dazzling chandelier, in a place so quiet it might’ve been a tomb. A man sat on a throne-like chair at the far end of the hall, dressed in black. A silver wolf mask covered half his face. There was no one else around. The entire hall existed for him—and him alone. “So,” his voice was low and chilling, like poisoned silk, “this is the payment they sent me?” Alina glared up at him. “I’m not anyone’s property.” He stood and descended the steps slowly. Each step was a hammer on her chest. “You look like this,” he said as he approached, “and still dare to speak.” He stopped before her, eyes cold behind the mask, gaze landing squarely on the black birthmark across her cheek. “Ugly,” he murmured. “Pathetic.” Alina’s nails dug into her palms. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard words like this. But from his mouth, they cut deeper than ever. “I should kill you. Make an example.” She bit down hard on her lip, trembling. She had learned long ago: to be ugly was a curse. To be ignored was fate. Even she didn’t know what she’d done to deserve this life. She had done nothing wrong. But no one had ever stood by her. Now this man wanted to take her life—just because she wasn’t “good enough.” Just because her foster parents owed him money. She suddenly laughed. Her voice cracked, and tears burned her eyes. If she was going to die anyway, then why not scream? Why not kick him? Why not throw every injustice, every shame, every scar right back in this cold world’s face? Why should she pay? She owed him nothing. Why should she kneel? He wasn’t her god. She looked up, her eyes sharp, her voice eerily calm. “You want to kill me? Fine. But don’t act like you’re better than anyone else. You’re just a cold-hearted freak hiding behind a mask. A coward.” She surged forward and kicked him—hard—in the chest. He staggered slightly. His mask flew off and clattered to the floor. Beneath it was a face so sharp, so flawless, so unreal it seemed carved by a god. Cold eyes, strong brows, a high nose, and lips pressed into a perfect line. Alina froze. “You—look like that?” Then, without thinking, she blurted, “I’d understand if you were ugly. But wearing a mask with a face like that? You’ve gotta be insane.” His eyes narrowed. “What did you say?” “I said you’re crazy!” she shouted, her cheeks flushing with either anger or shock. He was silent for a moment, then chuckled—low, dangerous. “You’re interesting,” he said. “I’ve changed my mind. I won’t kill you.”