Chapter 12 Market
The teachers were busy preparing for the upcoming event, knowing that it was not something they could take lightly. Every detail had to be planned carefully, from security to the smallest arrangements, because one mistake could lead to serious consequences. Extra precautions were already being put in place, all with the same goal—to prevent chaos and, more importantly, to avoid too much bloodshed, knowing that it is not impossible for violence to break out.
This occasion was not only anticipated by those meant to keep order. It also attracted people with ill intentions, like wolves waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. They saw the event as an opportunity—a chance to take revenge, to settle old grudges, or even to kill, believing they could do so without being immediately condemned or caught. The crowd, the noise, and the confusion would make it easier for them to act.
Because of this, some students felt uneasy as the day drew closer. Their nervousness did not come from excitement or curiosity, but from fear. They knew that someone out there might be holding onto resentment, waiting for the perfect time to make a move. Among those watching the preparations closely was Kai, her thoughts far from worry. To him, the event was not a celebration, but an opportunity—one where danger would not be an accident, but something carefully planned.
As for Selene, she did not bother preparing for the event at all. Instead, she spent most of her time helping her aunt in their small garden behind the house. Together, they tended to the vegetables her aunt had planted, caring for them with the hope of selling the harvest at the market once they were ready. Selene might be known as the Alpha’s girlfriend, but that did not mean she lived a life of comfort. Unlike the other wolves who came from wealthy families, they lived simply. They were just ordinary wolves who earned small benefits by staying active and loyal within their pack.
“Kai has been so busy these days,” Selene’s aunt said as she settled onto her wooden stool and reached for her bolo. With practiced movements, she loosened the soil around the plants, careful not to damage the roots. She worked slowly, softening the ground just enough before moving on. After finishing each patch, she poured water over the soil, making sure it soaked in properly before tending to the next plant.
“Bloodbound Rite is just around the corner, Auntie. Maybe Kai is planning to challenge someone,” Selene replied as she lifted the bucket and walked toward the water source to fill it. Her tone was calm, as if the thought had already crossed her mind more than once.
“Is that so? I didn’t realize it was already that time of the year,” Selene’s aunt said. She paused in her work, the bolo resting in her hand, before looking up at Selene. “But it never crossed my mind that Kai would challenge someone. Who do you think it might be?”
Selene shrugged lightly and set the bucket down in front of her aunt. “Aunt Melda, do you have any idea who it could be?” she asked, her voice calm and casual, though her eyes stayed fixed on her aunt’s face. Deep down, she already knew the answer—it would be her.
“I’m not sure,” her aunt replied, tightening her grip on the bolo. “She never told me about anyone she has issues with… or enemies, for that matter.”
Selene didn’t answer. Words felt useless right now. Instead, she moved on to the next task—harvesting the ripe vegetables. She reached for the eggplants, feeling their smooth, cool skin under her fingers. Her aunt’s voice broke through the quiet rhythm of their work.
“Can you prioritize picking the eggplants? Rosetta wants them. She said she wants to buy three kilos.”
Selene froze for a heartbeat. Rosetta? That name tasted like bitterness on her tongue. Her aunt’s so-called friend? The one who abandoned her aunt for money? The one whose selfish choices had led to her aunt’s exile and near execution?
The thought alone made Selene’s hand tighten around an eggplant, squeezing it until it felt soft, almost bruised. A heat burned inside her chest—a slow, creeping fire that started at her stomach and climbed up her throat. Anger, yes, but it was more than that. It was a storm. A driving pulse that demanded justice. Revenge. She could almost see Rosetta’s smug face in front of her, hear her laugh as if nothing had happened.
Selene’s jaw clenched. Her vision narrowed. The garden, the sunlight, the soft scent of fresh earth—everything faded into the background. There was only the thought of her aunt’s suffering, the humiliation, the betrayal. How dare someone do that and pretend everything was fine? How dare they walk free while her aunt bore the weight?
She picked the eggplants with a forceful grip, each movement releasing a fraction of the tension coiling inside her. Her fingers were bruised, the vegetable skins split in small cracks, but she didn’t care. Each one felt like a small victory, a tiny release of the rage that churned in her blood.
The anger wasn’t just emotion—it was purpose. Every breath she took, every step she made around the garden, it fed a plan forming silently in her mind. She would make sure Rosetta paid, not just for the money she took, not just for the exile, but for every sleepless night, every humiliation, every unfair moment that followed. And it wouldn’t be public. No, it would be quiet, precise, inevitable.
The afternoon passed with Selene moving mechanically between the rows of vegetables, collecting and sorting, her mind racing faster than her hands. The world was calm, almost too calm, and that contrast only made the fire inside her stronger. She could feel it in her chest, in her grip on the basket, in the steady hammer of her pulse. The fire of anger had a rhythm of its own. It demanded action, demanded focus, demanded a reckoning.
By the time the sun began to lean toward the west, Selene finished her work. The baskets were full of plump, shiny vegetables, the soil soft and rich beneath her fingers. She wiped the sweat from her brow, but the heat inside her hadn’t cooled. She didn’t need to. The anger was fuel. The need for revenge was the engine that drove her forward, and she welcomed it.
Leaving the garden, she slung a basket over her shoulder and stepped onto the narrow dirt path leading to the market. The air smelled of dust and sun-warmed vegetables, the familiar hum of merchants and customers greeting one another. Yet even here, Selene’s thoughts couldn’t rest. Her eyes scanned the crowd, her mind calculating, imagining the moment she would confront Rosetta—or maybe just watch quietly as her plan unfolded. Patience was part of this. Observation was key.
Selene let out a quiet breath as she stepped fully into the market, the warm afternoon sun on her face. For a moment, she pushed aside thoughts of Rosetta, letting the anger simmer in the back of her mind instead of taking the lead. The market was alive with color and sound—the chatter of customers, the laughter of children running between stalls, the calls of merchants advertising their goods.
She carried her basket carefully, weaving between the stalls and letting her eyes wander over the fresh produce. The deep red tomatoes glowed like little jewels in the sunlight, and the oranges smelled sweet enough to make her mouth water. She paused at a stall overflowing with herbs, inhaling the scent of basil and thyme. The smell grounded her, reminded her of simpler things—her aunt’s garden, the feeling of soil between her fingers, the quiet satisfaction of a day’s work done well.
For a while, Selene almost forgot the fire of anger that had been burning inside her. She allowed herself a small smile as she admired the neat stacks of fruits and vegetables, the carefully arranged rows of handmade baskets, the little trinkets that caught the sunlight and shimmered. A child laughed nearby, holding a brightly painted toy, and Selene’s lips twitched in a fleeting, rare expression of amusement.
“Hello, young lady! What do you have there?” a vendor called, looking up as she approached. Selene stepped forward and placed the basket of eggplants and other vegetables on his table.
“These are fresh from my aunt’s garden,” she said, her voice calm, almost cheerful. “I hope they’re good enough for your customers.”
The vendor inspected the produce, nodding in approval. “These are excellent. Very fresh indeed. I’ll take them all.”
Selene watched as he handed her a small pouch of coins in exchange. The sound of the coins clinking together made a small part of her chest lighten. It was a simple thing, but it felt satisfying, a reward for the hard work she had put in earlier. She tucked the pouch carefully into her bag, feeling a fleeting sense of pride.
She lingered a moment longer, letting herself appreciate the market—the way the sun made the fabrics on the stalls glow like they had their own life, the way the spices smelled spicy and sweet at the same time, the way the laughter and chatter mixed into a rhythm that made her feel… alive. She could almost imagine herself here without worry, without plans, without vengeance. Just walking, observing, existing in the moment.
Her hands brushed against the soft skins of the vegetables she passed by, and she even stopped at a stall selling small handcrafted dolls, admiring the delicate stitching. For a moment, she forgot Rosetta entirely. The garden, the work, the anger—it all faded into the background, replaced by this strange calm. She realized she hadn’t felt this peaceful in a long time, and she let herself soak it in, even if only briefly.
And then, as if the world had shifted on a pivot, her eyes landed on someone leaning casually against a nearby stall.
Ryzen.
He looked completely out of place, yet somehow perfectly at ease, browsing through a small collection of carved wooden boxes. Selene’s heartbeat skipped a little. The calm she had allowed herself vanished instantly, replaced by a new, different curiosity. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly, trying to read him.
“I did not expect you to be interested in this kind of place, Ryzen,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of surprise, amusement, and the faintest edge of something unspoken.