The Sorcerer's Handbook-Chapter 78: The Werewolf

Inside the design studio.

A bald, burly man was cutting fabric, refining patterns, and assembling sample garments. Mannequins stood among bolts of cloth and countless accessories, yet the room felt perfectly orderly. Everything sat in precise alignment, creating a space so neat it was almost pleasing to the eye.

Just then, a young female prisoner burst through the door, breathless with excitement. "It's been approved! It's been approved! Master Ronna, our design proposal has been approved! Kaishi's main summer collection this year will feature your Dreamlike Mirage series. Congratulations!"

Ronna offered a faint smile. "We both share this honor. Annette, with this success, you've become a qualified fashion designer."

Annette bowed deeply. "It's all thanks to your guidance, Master Ronna. If you hadn't taught me so openly and patiently, there is no way I could have improved so quickly. “My contribution pales in comparison to yours. I hardly deserve any credit."

A gentle smile spread across Ronna's face as warmth filled his eyes. "That's enough. No need to be so formal. If you don't mind, join us for dinner tonight. I should share this good news with Ronnie as well."

Annette teased, "Can I order whatever I want?"

Ronna gave a playful wink. "You can, but keep it under five Contribution Points. Now get back to work. Don't think you can slack off just because Kaishi's payment came in. You can never have too many Contribution Points. It's time for you to try designing on your own. Maybe you'll take the lead on next quarter's proposal."

"Alright, alright, I know. Master Ronna, you're perfect in every way... except that you talk too much."

Ronna sighed helplessly and lowered his head, returning to his work.

Annette stared at the fabrics before her, but she couldn't concentrate. Her eyes kept returning to Ronna. The more she watched him work, the more captivating he seemed. A man lost in his craft carried a charm all his own, and she couldn't stop the foolish smile creeping onto her face.

Unfortunately, he did not like women.

Annette sighed. To her, the world felt unbearably cruel. She could have tolerated competing with other women for someone she liked. What baffled her was having to compete with men as well.

She had been in Shattered Lake Prison for over a year. Like most death row inmates, she had no skills for making a living beyond what her criminal record had taught her, nor could she fight in the Death Match Club. This was perhaps a blessing, as it spared her from the brutal monsters hiding behind a harmless facade.

Annette did not dare gamble on citizens sparing her life during the Blood Moon Tribunal simply because of her looks. If anything, the opposite was far more likely. Human hearts often lurked with a hidden impulse to destroy anything beautiful.

Not to mention, the twisted ones in the kingdom weren't limited to the prisoners behind bars.

Learning a skill in prison that could earn Contribution Points was almost as difficult as encountering a Whirlpool in the Sea of Knowledge. Repeating simple, physical labor yielded no rewards. To succeed, one needed a unique, strikingly original craft, such as beastmen labyrinth toys, goblin bone carvings, or ogre oil paintings. Annette had only discovered after arriving that ogre oil paintings could fetch astonishing prices.

If those were still out of the question, the only options left would be complex intellectual work such as writing, composing music, or handling tax affairs. Because death row inmates were no longer seen as a threat, Shattered Lake Prison's tax consultants were especially popular among the wealthy. Anyone who survived the first Blood Moon Tribunal and possessed expertise in actuarial science, accounting, or taxation could live relatively well inside.

Annette had neither the time to master a craft nor the aptitude for complex intellectual work. Just as she was about to give up and wait out her fate in prison, she stumbled into Ronna's design studio.

Fabric lay everywhere. Her eyes were drawn to the sample outfits draped over the mannequins. The prison issued only plain white uniforms, and she had not worn beautiful clothes in a very long time.

She lingered in the design studio for a long while, until a deep male voice rang out from behind. "Do you like that dress? Would you like to try it on?"

And just like that, she became Ronna's assistant, as well as a fashion design apprentice.

Anyone familiar with Ronna would have a hard time associating his rugged appearance with the world of fashion design. Yet despite his looks, he was the highly prized exclusive designer for Kaishi, the Blood Moon Kingdom's renowned fashion brand. Nearly every design he submitted became the season's signature style.

The women wearing Kaishi’s fashionable outfits would never have guessed that the designs came from a bald death row inmate. Brand promotion certainly played a role, but Ronna’s ability to set trends season after season was proof of his exceptional talent. Even Annette, a complete newcomer to fashion design, improved steadily under his guidance. And now, their joint proposal had earned Kaishi’s recognition.

Annette had begun to feel grateful for her imprisonment. If the first twenty years of her life had been a murky gray haze, Ronna was the brightest rainbow she had ever seen. His personality, talent, and eloquence captivated her completely. Even his bald head seemed to radiate the untamed glow of an artist. If she could spend her life by his side, she would not mind remaining in prison. Compared to the chaotic world outside, this small prison seemed far better suited to shelter a quiet design studio.

Unfortunately, he showed little interest in women.

Each time the thought crossed her mind, an unceasing sorrow welled up within her. She had even considered visiting the infirmary for full-body reconstruction and gender reassignment. In the Blood Moon Kingdom, gender was no insurmountable barrier.

Yet making such a decision felt impossibly difficult. She did not know whether Ronna would mind that she was not "original." At the time, he was still single, and she hoped that, with time, his feelings might change, and perhaps she could even straighten him out. As people often said, "No matter how crooked a man's intestines are, he stands straight when it counts."

Annette trusted in her body and her ability to entice. If not for the chip that prohibited all violent behavior, she might have forced her way forward first and dealt with the consequences later.

Just like that, a year passed, and now someone else stood at Ronna’s side, while she had not even touched his bald head. Worse still, she had to dine with the two of them, swallowing her food while tasting the sour bitterness of their romance.

The thought made her imagine the fabric before her as that foul man named Ronald. A fierce urge burned inside her to hack it apart with scissors until nothing remained intact.

Knock, knock.

The studio door opened. Ronna looked up. His eyes narrowed into crescents as a gentle smile appeared. "Ronnie, what brings you here? Are you feeling unwell? Should I accompany you to the infirmary?"

Ronald's pale face tightened as he shook his head. "I'm fine, Ronna. I came because I need to talk to you."

A handsome man stepped into the studio. "More precisely, we need to talk."

Ronna's expression cooled. "'Beautiful Beast Iger... Ronnie, he's dangerous. Come stand beside me. Iger, you'd be mistaken if you think that the prison can protect you from me. If you dare harm Ronnie, I have ways to make you wish you were dead."

Another figure stepped in and positioned himself between them. "Relax, Ronna. No one here will be harmed."

Ronna's smile vanished completely. "Demon Ashe. Just because we aren't friends doesn't mean we should be enemies."

Ashe smiled. "We are friends. We were in the past, we are now, and we will be in the future. Ronna, we're here to discuss cooperation."

Ronna raised a hand. "Annette, step outside."

"Master—"

"Out!"

Annette shot Ashe and the others a fierce glare, bit her lower lip, and stormed out.

Ashe glanced at the closed door. "You probably figured out why we're here. It's not like we're discussing anything inappropriate. We might as well get ourselves one more accomplice."

Iger hadn't announced his jailbreak plans to the entire prison, but after approaching several high-profile inmates, the news had already spread. With Ronna's influence, there was no way he didn't know their intentions. Sending Annette away had been deliberate.

Ronna ignored Ashe completely, instead resting his blue, calm eyes on Ronald. "Ronnie. Is this what you want?"

Ronald had been shrinking back moments ago, but when he met that gaze, memories of the brutality he experienced in the Death Match arena surged through him. He clenched his teeth and made up his mind. "Ronna, I want to join Iger's team. I want to escape with them."

Ronna replied gently, "Ronnie, we can live very well here. The Contribution Points I earn are enough to keep us out of the Blood Moon Tribunal forever—"

Ronald shouted, "But I want to leave! Ronna, are you coming with me, or are you staying here?"

Ronna fell silent. After a long moment, he glanced at Ashe and Iger.

Ashe felt a chill crawl over him. A primal fear surged up, like the instinctive dread of facing a natural predator. It was as if he were standing before an executioner. For a moment, he even felt the urge to flee.

Ronna let out a sigh. "Ronnie, you know I can never refuse a request from someone I love. As you wish, Beautiful Beast, Demon. I, Ronna Chios, am willing to follow your command. But remember this. If anything happens to Ronnie during the operation, you will be buried alongside him. Now, tell me about your plan."

Iger responded, "We haven't gathered everyone we need yet, so we can't reveal much. What I can tell you is that Ashe has a way to neutralize the chips."

Ronna glanced at Ashe in surprise but said nothing. "Who else do you need? I can help."

Iger shook his head. "No need. First, you have to tell us what you're capable of once the chip is neutralized. You might fill a gap in the team. If so, we won't need to recruit anyone else."

Ronna hesitated, weighing whether to reveal his hand. The others didn't rush him and merely waited in silence.

Finally, he sighed. "Turn off the lights. Leave just one on."

When only a single lamp remained lit in the corner, Ronna stepped into the shadows, melting into the darkness. "I am a Moonshadow."

Iger froze. "Impossible. Moonshadows and Blood Saints can never enter the Blood Moon Tribunal. The Research Institute and the Church would never allow such a stain on either race's honor—"

Ronna interrupted, "I am an exception. Unlike my kin, who require the Blood Moon's radiance to transform, I must hide in the shadow to assume my Moonshadow form. Under the blood moon's light, I cannot transform at all. The Church has nothing to fear.

"Moreover, unlike those who resonate with the Blood Moon and lose themselves to madness, I have never heard its call. When I transform, I only become more ruthless, more defiant, and colder."

With the lithe, fluid steps of a predator, a towering werewolf emerged from the shadows. He stood over two meters tall and was covered in gray fur. At the sight of his deep blue eyes, all three men froze in place.

"I am a traitor to the Church, a disgrace to the Moonshadows, and a beast even the Blood Moon rejects. I am neither a pure Moonshadow nor a devout human. Every strand of my fur reeks of disloyalty to the Blood Moon.

"They call me... The Werewolf."