A boy awoke in a dark place. His limbs were bound, and something was stuffed in his mouth. Through dim lighting and the vibrations beneath him, he realized he was in an elevator—a massive freight elevator packed with wooden crates. Nearby were other boys, also bound like him. He wasn’t sure what had happened. All he remembered was going to a job interview and drinking the beverage they offered him, only to pass out shortly afterward.

  After that, he had awoken tied up in what appeared to be an aircraft. He caught a glimpse through the window and knew he was being transported. After the plane landed, he blacked out again—and now he found himself here.

  Looking around, he noticed the others were from all over the world—white, black, and fellow Asians. Their eyes all bore the same fear: they didn’t know what was going to happen to them. He felt the same.

  The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. Uniformed men stormed in, unshackling their feet and yelling in a language he couldn’t understand. He and the others were dragged out.

  They were taken to a room lined with beds that looked like something out of a lethal injection chamber. Though he struggled, the boy was strapped down just like the others. The uniformed men brought in several containers with tubes attached to needles. They placed the containers under the beds. He felt a sharp pain—a needle had been inserted into his back.

  Others were also hooked up. Then came the mechanical sound of valves opening. The devices were activated.

  He watched as others began to bleed and tear apart. Even with gags in their mouths, their screams were unmistakable. Pain overtook him too—as if his body were ripping itself apart. His limbs swelled, bursting through his clothes. Hair burst from torn skin. His head elongated, reshaping grotesquely. The cloth gag fell out of his mouth as a guttural roar escaped him:

  "AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

  A pine-shaped mark appeared on the boy's chest; his head was covered in blood, grew hair, and his mouth stretched forward, had transformed into that of a wolf.

  A flood of brutal war scenes flashed through my mind.

  I awoke in shock. My heart pounded wildly. My wolf-like head panted as I tried to calm myself. I covered my face with both hands, trembling, and tears welled up in my eyes. Even after all these years, that memory still tormented me.

  I had been the only one to survive the procedure. Those responsible handed me over to the Remus military—the force I once served. The Kingdom of Remus, neighbor to the Republic of Yir, which I now called home. I later learned the Remus military had paid one million Remus As (As being an ancient Roman currency, as noted in Wikipedia) to buy me from those traffickers.

  But that was in the past. I kept telling myself I had nothing to do with it anymore.

  Even so, my wolfkin body still trembled.

  After some time, I calmed down and began shifting back into my human teenage form. Werewolves in this world can change shape at will—except on weekend nights, when transformation is uncontrollable, and they can only return to human form the next morning.

  I walked to the wardrobe, put on my underwear and school uniform, grabbed my tricorn hat and backpack. By the time I stepped out of my room, I looked just like any ordinary student. No one could see the beast hidden beneath my skin.

  It was my first day of school in this country. I went downstairs and saw Ms. Rice had already made pancakes and placed a cup of tea beside the plate.

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  "Thank you, ma’am," I said.

  "You're welcome," she replied with a gentle smile.

  Ms. Rice was always kind to me, but there was a distance in that kindness—the kind you show to strangers. I didn’t blame her. We hadn’t known each other for long.

  I sat at the table and began eating. Not long after, Lyka came down the stairs.

  "Morning, Big Wolf Brother!" Lyka greeted me cheerfully.

  "Good morning, Lyka," I replied.

  He glanced at the breakfast, a bit disappointed, but sat down and began eating anyway.

  Mr. Mueller walked over and informed us that the car was ready. Lyka nodded. After finishing my breakfast, I brought my dishes to the sink, grabbed my bag, and left the house.

  After a subway ride of several minutes, I arrived at North Forest Middle School. I entered, climbed the stairs, walked down the corridor, and stepped into my classroom: Grade 1, Class Ж.

  Everyone was unfamiliar except for Mikhail, who had spoken to me yesterday. He sat alone by the back window, not interacting with anyone. I sat beside him. While I preferred to keep my distance, I also understood the importance of building at least a few connections. People need help when things go wrong.

  "Morning, Ulyanov," I greeted.

  "Morning, Rice," he replied after a pause.

  We sat together and watched our classmates chat, lean on desks, or lounge in chairs. Unlike yesterday, Mikhail said nothing. Maybe this was his true self. Some people try to reinvent themselves in new settings, but usually, it doesn't last.

  The bell rang. Our teacher entered. After calling for silence, everyone gradually took their seats.

  He wrote on the board: Марк Морозов.

  Before starting school, I had crammed the local language. I knew they used Cyrillic letters to phonetically spell English. The name read: Mark Morozov.

  Then he wrote: Ворлд ситуэйшн, meaning "World Situation."

  "Welcome to North Forest Middle School," he said. "I'm your civics teacher and homeroom advisor, Mark Morozov. Today, I want to talk about world affairs. But let’s be honest, if I stood here giving a speech, none of you would really listen."

  "So instead, throughout this term, I want you to take turns doing group presentations on current global issues."

  The class buzzed with chatter.

  "Quiet down," Morozov said. "This is also a good way for you to get to know one another. Now, please form groups of two or three."

  Moments like this highlight the importance of connections. I turned to the only person I knew.

  "Sure thing, Rice. Let’s do this," Mikhail said.

  After we grouped up, the teacher asked us to decide on topics. Mikhail turned to me.

  "How about we talk about diplomatic relations between Remus and our country? Ever since last year's war, it's been a hot topic."

  "Sure," I said. But what surfaced in my mind was the image of Yir’s T-80U tanks tearing through our lines, machine guns cutting down our soldiers, warplanes dropping bombs and blasting my comrades to pieces. Their final screams still echoed in my memory.

  "Sure," I forced a smile. "But I bet lots of groups will pick that."

  "Then let’s hurry and claim it!" Mikhail said, oblivious to my hidden meaning. He rushed to talk to the teacher, and I saw Morozov nod. Mikhail’s face lit up with excitement.

  Well, looks like I’m stuck with it. I should’ve declined more firmly.

  That afternoon, students began streaming out the school gate. I boarded the subway, thinking about the day’s events. Mikhail seemed like a simple, socially awkward kid. But I felt more at ease around people like him. People who were naive and honest.

  The opposite kind? I couldn't relax around them. Like Mr. Rice, my foster guardian.

  I returned home and greeted Ms. Rice and Lyka. Lyka bounded up to me with a grin.

  "Big Wolf Brother, how was school? I met so many fun classmates today!"

  "Not bad. I met a decent classmate, too. He's a lot like you," I said.

  It was true. Lyka was also innocent and warm.

  We chatted and were about to head upstairs when Ms. Rice interjected, "That's enough, Lyka. Ash is tired. Let him rest. Come here—I need to talk to you."

  So I went upstairs alone and took a shower. As the warm water ran over me, I thought about Ms. Rice's words. I had been living here for six months, yet she still seemed wary of me. I didn’t blame her. Aside from being a werewolf, I hadn’t told her much about myself.

  I looked down at my ankle. An electronic shackle was clamped around it. It was meant to monitor me and prevent me from becoming a threat. After all, if a werewolf lost control, the destruction would far exceed that of any human or wolfkin.

  In this country, the government was wary of me. My new family had doubts. I couldn’t truly open my heart to anyone.

  Still, it was better than my time in Remus.

  Back then, I was treated like a weapon. I conquered lands. I brought only blood and screams.