Chapter 150

Chapter 150
Fiona's POV

"Rasen?"

I called out the name tentatively, my voice thin against the cacophony of the underground.

The harmonica music stopped abruptly.

The figure sitting on the weathered plank stiffened, then slowly turned around. When he recognized me, a flash of shock crossed his gray-blue eyes.

That shock quickly dissolved into guilt so thick it seemed almost tangible.

He scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling in his haste, the harmonica almost slipping from his fingers into the muddy water below.

"Miss Sterling?" His voice carried disbelief as he stared at me. "You... are you all right? I heard about what happened that day..."

His words came low and cautious, testing the waters. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't help you when you needed it. If I had managed to gather more evidence, maybe Mr. Sterling wouldn't have—"

"No, Rasen."

I shook my head, cutting off his rambling apology.

"This isn't your fault," I said quietly, my gaze sweeping across the people struggling to survive in the filth around us. "I was naive before. The interests of the werewolf ruling class are already solid as bedrock. The web they've woven is larger than I ever imagined."

Rasen fell silent, his head dropping. "You're far too kind and forgiving. I'm deeply ashamed of my betrayal."

But forgiving Rasen didn't feel difficult, especially after witnessing the reality of how these lower-class half-bloods lived. I could completely understand their desperate desire to claw their way out of the muck. His so-called betrayal was nothing more than succumbing to an irresistible temptation of class mobility—

"By the way, how is your mother?" I shifted the subject, not wanting him to drown further in self-recrimination. "Is she doing better? I remember you mentioned her illness was severe. Have you managed to cover the medical expenses?"

Before Rasen could answer, the makeshift door curtain of scrap metal behind him was pushed aside.

"Rasen, I brought some bread. It's a bit stale, but we can share it with the children."

A gentle female voice emerged, followed by a woman carrying an enormous wicker basket.

It was Yulia.

This was my first time meeting Rasen's mother.

In this filthy, reeking underground that resembled purgatory, she stood out for her cleanliness. She appeared to be in her forties, with fine lines etched at the corners of her eyes by time, though these hadn't stolen her beauty—instead, they had granted her a quality of still-water serenity.

She wore a linen dress washed to near-whiteness, covered by a dark gray knitted cardigan. Her hair was pulled back simply, with a few loose strands framing her face. She wasn't the kind of beauty that stunned at first glance, but she possessed something uniquely human—a resilient yet tender strength.

When she lifted her head and her eyes met mine, those light brown irises held no surprise, only a profound compassion and acceptance.

"Hello. I'm Rasen's... friend," I said softly.

She paused slightly, then set down her basket and walked toward me.

"Fiona." She spoke my name, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze. "I know who you are."

She reached out as if to touch my cheek, then stopped mid-air, seemingly afraid her dusty hands might soil me.

"Is your illness better?" I took her hand. It was cool to the touch, but her palm was warm.

"Much better, thanks to Professor Claremont's medicine. It's hard to believe that this foolish boy of mine agreed to become a human test subject in that hellish place, all to pay for my treatment..."

"Mother." Rasen's low voice stopped her. "Please, let's not talk about this anymore. I'm fine now, aren't I?"

Yulia sighed, turning to look at Rasen with eyes that held both reproach and pride. Then she looked back at me with a warm smile.

"This isn't the place for conversation. Come, let's go to my place."

I nodded and followed the mother and son through the crowded masses.

When they pushed open that crude metal door, I was shocked once again.

This was merely a cramped space of less than a hundred square feet, originally an abandoned storage room in the underground city. The walls were papered with old newspapers, yellowed and brittle, yet arranged with meticulous care. The floor had been swept spotless, with a faded carpet spread in one corner.

A worn wooden table had been polished until it gleamed, covered with a crocheted lace tablecloth. In the center sat a glass bottle holding a few wildflowers of unknown origin, blooming stubbornly in this sunless underground realm.

The air held no trace of mildew. Instead, it carried a faint scent of soap and herbal medicine.

"Please, sit." Yulia gestured to the only chair by the table, while she herself pulled over a small stool to sit across from me.

I took in everything around me, my heart a tumult of conflicting emotions.

Yulia should have been a woman who lived in sunlight. She was elegant, tidy, and cherished life. If she hadn't fallen in love with that Black Wolf Alpha, if she hadn't given birth to Rasen, this half-blood child, she might have found a suitable human husband and lived in a house with a garden, spending her afternoons on the balcony drinking tea and reading.

Instead of this—trapped in this lightless underground city, guarding this room of barely a hundred square feet, counting every penny just to survive.

"Have some tea. I mixed it myself from herbs. It can't compare to the tea above ground, but it warms the stomach."

Yulia placed a chipped enamel cup before me, steam rising in delicate wisps.

I cradled the cup, feeling the warmth seeping through the metal, my eyes beginning to sting.

"Yulia," I said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Why apologize?" She smiled at me, her gaze clear.

"Because of Rasen, and because of you... If it weren't for us—I mean, even though everything my uncle did was to protect my mother and me, Laboratory Zero was still an evil existence. His love was great, but it was also obsessive."

I couldn't imagine how many innocent people had died in that laboratory over the years.

That was no excuse for the harm he had caused others.

"No, child." Yulia shook her head, reaching out to gently cover my hand with hers. "That has nothing to do with you. In fact, we're grateful that laboratory existed. It sheltered you all this time, allowing all of us to see that you are our hope."

My head snapped up, staring at her in shock.

"Professor Claremont often speaks of you to us." Yulia's voice was soft but every word distinct. "He says you're the only half-blood in three hundred years to awaken the Golden Wolf bloodline. He says you will change everything."

"I..." My mouth opened, but I didn't know what to say.

Change everything?

Could I really do that?

"I don't know if I can..." I murmured. "I just... I just want everything to get better. I don't want to see people like Old John scavenging for food in sewage, or Martha being thrown out with her children..."

"That's enough." Yulia interrupted me, her gaze both firm and gentle. "That's more than enough, Fiona."

Just then, the melodious yet mournful harmonica music drifted in from outside again.

Rasen had returned to that worn plank, facing those compatriots struggling in their pain, playing that familiar tune.

The music echoed through the narrow alley, miraculously soothing those restless souls.

"Rasen is a very gifted child." Yulia watched her son's silhouette through the doorway, her eyes full of pride.

I nodded. I knew.

When he had been dating Diana, he was already preparing to apply for a music academy scholarship. He loved music, loved beautiful things.

"What I want to do is perhaps to hope that one day, every half-blood like Rasen can find their own place and purpose. Not hiding in the gutters, but standing on stage, receiving applause."

Yulia looked at me, tears glistening in her eyes.

"You will do it, Fiona," she said with conviction.

I lowered my head, watching the herb leaves floating in my cup. The flame that had been so faint in my heart now, in this moment, finally ignited into a wildfire.