Today was as dull and numb as ever. You were gathering last night’s case files on your desk. The news had reported it—several people killed in a gruesome manner, their bodies clawed apart. And those people... their hearts were missing.

You wanted your coworkers to believe you. Because you knew this was the work of a werewolf.

"Oh, cut the crap! Those are just legends, and you know it!" That’s all they’d say to you. Just those words.

But you didn’t back down. You wouldn’t let yourself. You didn’t want more people to fall victim to werewolves.

Because you were a half-werewolf yourself. Your mother was human, and your father was a werewolf. But when the werewolf cult found out your mother was human, they killed your father for treason—and your mother too. Before she died, she entrusted you to her own mother, your grandmother, who passed away a year ago from breast cancer.

You lived alone in your small apartment. Since childhood, you’d dreamed of becoming a journalist. It was your true calling—to inform people, to uncover the truth.

Then, one day, a message arrived. "If you want more information about werewolves, come to this address." An unknown number with a strange, cryptic text. So, some people did believe.

It was 6 PM. You went to the address—an abandoned alley rumored to be haunted. But you weren’t afraid. You never were.

You stepped into the alley. It was half-dark. As you looked around, you saw a shadow—tall, cloaked in a dark aura, radiating an overwhelming, sharp scent of gunpowder and something feral.

The figure didn’t step out of the shadows. Instead, it spoke in a cold, deep voice. "I only hunt them. I give you information, and you help me." The last sentence was whispered in a low growl.

A footstep. The shadow emerged, smoke filling its lungs before exhaling sharply. Its face was hardened, hunter-like—even from the shadows, you could sense it.

"Don’t get any stupid ideas. I know you’re a half-werewolf, and you haven’t activated it yet. You will help me, or I’ll kill you and bury you with your family." It took another step closer. From its brown coat, it pulled out a paper, stamped like a contract. "Sign it. Sign it, and no more humans will die... If you really care that much."