When Glenn returned to his doorstep, he paused briefly, inhaling the air to confirm that Black Crow had indeed been there.

  From beneath a stone, he retrieved his keys and unlocked the front door of his home.

  The items were placed just inside; he knew Black Crow had likely not entered, merely leaving the belongings behind before departing.

  “How simple-minded he is…” Glenn mused inwardly, picking up the things and stepping inside.

  He needed to devise a way to preserve the pork he had acquired that morning. In this world, there were no refrigerators, so he decided to rely on a traditional method: curing the meat.

  Apparently, this world possessed freezing magic—he made a mental note to investigate it further. With such magic, he would never have to worry about preserving food again… Glenn allowed his mind to wander while carefully attending to the kitchen chores.

  …

  After experiencing the despair of yesterday, Lera could scarcely imagine how she would face life if she had truly lost her mother. Yet, by a stroke of fortune, a kind gentleman had saved her life.

  “My child, you must express your gratitude to that benevolent gentleman. In these times, people like him are exceedingly rare,” Mrs. Dery, Lera’s mother, said gently, patting her daughter’s hand. “You are a girl who knows the value of kindness—I am certain of that.”

  “Yes, mother. Tomorrow, I will inquire about Bayek Town. If possible, I will bring some friends along,” Lera replied softly.

  “That is wise. But mind your manners; your friends must not do anything to leave a poor impression.”

  “Don’t worry, mother. They are all courteous.”

  As she spoke with her mother, Lera’s mind naturally wandered, recalling her impressions of Glenn.

  He was a lean young man, seemingly not much older than herself. Compared to others, he possessed a certain distinct aura—his gaze calm and composed, his attire as simple as hers. Yet, despite his simplicity, he lingered in her thoughts.

  There was something undeniably different about him… What could it be?

  Just as her thoughts began to drift, her mother’s words drew her back.

  “Perhaps we should consider moving…”

  Mrs. Dery’s weary face bore the strain of recent events.

  “Move again?” Lera could scarcely accept the notion. She had lived here for several years, formed friendships, and known her neighbors. Moving meant leaving all of that behind.

  They had already relocated twice before, each time forcing her to adapt anew—a harsh reality for a fifteen-year-old girl.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “You understand. Your father has found us again. Today, he nearly took my life. Had it not been for the nearby patrolling officers, I cannot imagine what would have happened,” Mrs. Dery said, clutching Lera’s hands, her eyes filled with worry.

  “I understand, mother…” Lera gazed upon her mother’s still-healing face, noting the concern in her eyes. Though her mother bore the injuries, Lera’s own grievances seemed trivial in comparison.

  …

  Having returned late the previous night and spent time in the kitchen, Glenn did not wake until eleven o’clock.

  Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he opened the second-floor window and saw the elderly neighbor carrying a Rottweiler pup back from beyond the town.

  The old man truly loved dogs! Glenn leaned out, calling down cheerfully: “Good neighbor! Where did you get the pup? It looks wonderful!”

  The sudden loud voice startled the old man on the quiet streets of Bayek. He glared in Glenn’s direction, his expression stiffening, then snorted and turned away.

  Glenn chuckled and retreated indoors to wash up.

  Suddenly, he whistled toward the window. Moments later, a massive beast emerged from the distant mist, quickly arriving at Glenn’s house.

  The beast crouched below, awaiting orders, its slightly glowing eyes radiating focus.

  “Station yourself in the forest outside the town. If a girl approaches, protect her from the shadows,” Glenn instructed, leaning out.

  The beast shifted its stance as if saluting—a gesture that seemed to silently say, Yes, Sir. Then, it darted off like the wind.

  Today, Glenn planned to rearrange his home, particularly the fireplace. Being enclosed, it could not serve for curing meat; modifications were necessary.

  As he began dismantling one corner of the brick fireplace, his keen ears detected an unusual sound from below.

  Setting down his hammer, he tapped gently on the floorboards.

  Thunk… thunk…

  Through careful probing, he pinpointed the source. Subtle though it was, he had indeed found it.

  Empty space beneath? Glenn’s face lit with surprise. The previous owner had never mentioned a basement.

  Curiosity piqued, he searched the house for an entrance, reluctant to damage his floors unnecessarily.

  Eventually, he discovered a trapdoor beneath a large wooden cabinet in the cluttered room.

  Rusty chains encircled the door, clearly intended to deter intruders.

  For Glenn, however, this was no obstacle. With a modest exertion of his werewolf strength, he snapped the chains and opened the trapdoor.

  A wooden staircase descended into darkness.

  A musty odor wafted up. Glenn frowned but did not retreat.

  Fetching an oil lantern, he lit it and descended the staircase carefully.

  Upon reaching the floor below, Glenn surveyed the scene.

  A swarm of rats scurried into the shadows, squeaking. Several old bookshelves lined the walls, their tomes chewed and tattered.

  A decayed wooden round table held miscellaneous items, glass containers shattered on the floor, their contents spilled.

  Glenn moved through the basement lightly, clicking his tongue in surprise. He had never imagined such a space beneath his home.

  He picked a relatively intact book from the shelf and tried reading.

  “Holmorgan’s Second Substitute… Seal of the Law…” he struggled, eventually closing it and muttering in Chinese, “What the hell is this gibberish? I can’t understand a word!”

  Returning the book, he sifted through the clutter on the table—mostly drafts and containers, nothing noteworthy. He resumed exploring the basement.

  Being small, it did not take long. Glenn’s disappointment grew; the basement contained almost nothing of value.

  Yet he noticed another door, placing his hopes upon it.

  “Perhaps something worthwhile lies beyond…” Glenn thought, taking a deep breath.

  The door was made of dark brown wood, adorned with simple patterns, framed by runes.

  Above it was a device resembling a clock, but with only a single hand and a face divided into five sections inscribed with strange symbols, evenly spaced.

  The hand currently pointed to the topmost section.

  Turning the handle, the door creaked open. Glenn did not notice that, the instant the door opened, the symbol above it glimmered faintly.