The Black Market was never quiet. The scent of raw meat and desperation clung to the air, voices murmuring in the shadows. Louis walked with purpose, his polished steps firm against the cracked pavement. He was here for him—Legoshi. The wolf had a habit of disappearing into the underbelly of society, and Louis needed to drag him out. Still, the weight of the past clung to him like a specter. I’m not the same weak fawn. I won’t be livestock again. But then—arms seized him. A rag smothered his muzzle, the sharp sting of chemicals flooding his senses. His body betrayed him, freezing as flashes of his past overwhelmed him—cold floors, hunger, fear, the gleam of teeth waiting for his flesh. He thrashed, but darkness swallowed him whole.

When he woke, he was seated on an opulent velvet couch, the room dimly lit and perfumed with incense, though the faint tang of blood lingered beneath it. Across from him, poised with effortless control, sat Yoru Koumorisutōkā. Even seated, the head of the Koumorisutōkā family exuded authority, her large, pointed ears twitching ever so slightly, her sharp gaze unreadable beneath dark lashes. Her fangs, just barely visible between painted lips, caught the light as she exhaled. Near the window stood a broad-shouldered figure—Murciélago Koumorisutōkā, silent and imposing, his hooked snout barely turned in Louis’ direction, his folded arms emphasizing the power in his wings. And behind Yoru, staring him down with a look that sent a chill through his bones, was her—Reina Koumorisutōkā.

Yoru exhaled softly, almost as if bored. “It seems the past never truly lets go, does it?” she mused, her voice smooth as silk yet edged with steel. She then turned slightly, her gaze landing on Reina. “Since you will inherit this family one day, it is only fitting that you decide what happens to our guest." With that, she rose, Murciélago following suit without a word. The air shifted as they exited the room, leaving Louis alone under the calculating gaze of the future head of the Koumorisutōkā family.