I woke up from my sleep. Although my werewolf body doesn’t sweat, I could hear myself panting and feel my rapid heartbeat. I kept recalling those images: the enemy soldiers’ wails before death and the painful screams of my wounded allies. I kept firing bullets at enemies just a few feet away, stabbing them with a bayonet. The look in their eyes is burned into my mind. I served in the Kingdom of Remus for many years, constantly going through and performing such acts. The severed limbs and spilled intestines of those people—I still remember them all.

  I forced myself to get up and drank water from the bathroom faucet to try and calm down. After a while, I felt a hand reach over and touch my fur.

  "Big Bad Wolf Brother, can’t sleep?" Lyka asked.

  Right, it’s five in the morning. At this time, Lyka should still be asleep. I don’t know why he woke up.

  I answered, "I’m fine. But why are you up so early?"

  "I had a nightmare," he said, then hugged me and rubbed against me. Lyka really liked rubbing my fur when I was in beastman form—maybe because it was really soft.

  Not long after, he let go and said, "I feel much better now."

  I didn’t know how to comfort a boy awakened by a nightmare. In fact, I was frightened awake too, but my fur completed that task for me. Although he’s already twelve years old, sometimes he still acts like a child. That kind of innocence is truly adorable. Mikhail too—though he’s a gifted student, he’s very straightforward and pure. That kind of silliness is actually quite endearing.

  I envy them. I truly envy them.

  He returned to his room, opened the door, waved at me, and went inside.

  Then, a man in a three-piece suit holding a tricorn hat came out from another room. I didn’t see him often, but I knew exactly who he was. He was Mr. Rice—full name Mark Rice, a member of parliament and also the person who adopted me. Because of work, he always left home very early and came back very late. My schedule is very regular: wake at 6, sleep at 10, so I don’t see him much.

  "Good morning, Mr. Rice," I said.

  "Good morning, Ash. Why are you up so early, and still in your wolfkin form?" he asked.

  "It’s nothing, sir. Just came out to use the bathroom," I made up an excuse.

  "I see. Then quickly go back and continue sleeping. Today is Monday, and you’ll need energy for school," he said kindly with a smile.

  He walked down the stairs while I still stood at the bathroom door. I didn’t fully trust Rice. Although he rescued me, gave me a new identity, took care of me, and sent me to school, the kinder he acted, the more I couldn’t figure out his true motives.

  I returned to my room and looked at the clock. It was already 5:30. There wasn’t much time left to sleep, so I tried to transform back into a human. Although I could shift at will, my body always involuntarily turned into beastman form every weekend. I heard this was a built-in safeguard when creating werewolves to prevent people like us from escaping and blending into human society. To me, this appearance seemed like a reminder: I’m no longer human, and I can’t escape my past. I really hate it.

  Transforming from beastman back to human is always hard, especially before sunrise on Mondays. It took me nearly a minute to turn back into a sweat-covered man. I wiped myself with a towel, put on a crew-neck undershirt and shorts, and sat alone on my bed in a daze. Soon after, I walked out of the room, through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the living room. I brewed a pot of black tea for myself and turned on the TV.

  From the news report, I learned the latest developments after the Kingdom of Remus’s failed large-scale offensive on the Northern Peninsula last year. The Kingdom of Remus, unlike the Republic of Yir, is a constitutional monarchy dominated by wolfkin. The king holds ruling power but is limited by the constitution and parliament. The report said that due to rising anti-war sentiment, the Remus leadership was being forced to start peace talks with the Republic of Yir over the Northern Peninsula issue.

  Is the war finally going to end? Is this war that tormented me finally coming to a close? I felt a sense of relief, but also a hint of dissatisfaction. The thought of "Why didn’t you end it earlier?" kept churning in my mind.

  Mrs. Rice came downstairs, surprised to see me in the living room so early in the morning.

  "Why are you up so early?" she asked.

  "I just felt like waking up early today," I gave another vague excuse.

  "I see," she said, walked over, picked up a cup, and poured herself a serving of tea from my teapot.

  At 6:30, I finished breakfast, put on my uniform, carried my backpack, said goodbye to Mrs. Rice and Lyka, and took the subway to school. Today, my backpack contained a poster I prepared for a report. I wondered how Mikhail would evaluate my work.

  When I arrived in the classroom, I found Mikhail already there. I took off my backpack and handed him the finished poster.

  "Pretty average," he said, then, realizing his poor choice of words, panicked and added, "Sorry, I can tell you put a lot of effort into this report, Ash."

  "If it’s average, then I’ll just take it back," I said coldly, reaching out my hand.

  "Sorry, sorry! I’ll treat you to a soda at lunch to make up for it," he said with an awkward smile.

  It’s already the seventh week since school started. I’ve become quite familiar with Mikhail and have gotten to know him fairly well.

  When civics class began, Mikhail and I gave our report. After it ended, Mr. Morozov told us to return to our seats and continued, "Some of you may already know that the Kingdom of Remus is about to enter peace negotiations with our country. According to various analyses, Remus’s move is a response to the large-scale anti-war protests happening domestically. Does anyone have thoughts on this?"

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  A student raised their hand and said, "They’re almost done gnawing all the bones on the front lines."

  The whole class burst into laughter.

  The teacher laughed and said, "That’s not quite it. The Kingdom of Remus suffered heavy losses after last year’s failed large-scale invasion, leading to rising anti-war sentiment at home. The current talks are focused on the issue of prisoner exchanges."

  I knew exactly what the teacher was talking about. I experienced that war last year. After years of serving with the army, the Remus forces began gaining an advantage on the Northern Peninsula. Headquarters issued an order for the entire army to gather and capture the peninsula’s port city, Polustro, to occupy the region.

  Gladius, fully armed, advanced with the T-72 tanks, gradually seeing artillery fire from the city coming toward them. They quickly ducked down, and shells exploded around them. He clearly saw a wolfkin soldier being torn apart by an explosion. Several Mi-24A helicopters from the Remus military then flew toward the city to attack. As the army drew nearer, Gladius was struck by a bullet. Although it pierced the body armor, it did not penetrate his body, as Gladius's body could withstand some bullets. He was not an ordinary wolfkin. He was a werewolf—a man-made creature created by modifying a human body, existing between a wolfkin and a human.

  Gladius saw the flame-filled defensive line of the Republic of Yir. He advanced behind a tank as it drove through the already-destroyed defense line. Human limbs were scattered everywhere. There was no life around, only his own troops moving forward.

  Gladius and the other wolfkin soldiers advanced through the ruined city. Remus’s Mi-24As hovered around the city. Suddenly, one helicopter was hit by a missile and shot down. From behind a nearby building, a 2K22 Tunguska vehicle emerged. Gladius watched as their T-72 fired at it. He then quickly moved along the side of the building to approach the wrecked Tunguska. He saw a large group of enemy infantry. Taking advantage of their panic, he opened fire continuously. Several soldiers were shot dead. Gladius then emerged from cover, drew his bayonet, and began swiftly attacking the remaining soldiers. One by one, their throats were slashed. When he came back to his senses, he realized he had already killed many soldiers. Even after so many years on the battlefield, Gladius had never truly gotten used to the feeling of killing, or the constant screams around him.

  The next day, the Remus military occupied part of the city and continued clashing with the Republic of Yir’s forces. After the first and second waves of attacks, Gladius was still forced to fight and kill constantly. During this, he saw countless mutilated corpses—some caused by his own hands.

  However, just as the Remus soldiers were feeling triumphant, the Republic of Yir began organizing a fierce counterattack. Yir possessed four carrier strike groups, with technology originating from another world called Ukraine. Most of this world’s military technology came from there. One of the aircraft carriers was nuclear-powered, named the Cabital. It was reportedly assembled from parts of a ship called the Ulyanovsk from another world. Later aircraft carriers of the Republic of Yir were developed based on it.

  That carrier, leading several destroyers and amphibious assault ships, arrived at the Northern Peninsula. The Republic of Yir’s naval air force deployed Su-33 fighter jets and a large number of marines, who landed and reversed the situation. They quickly joined the army forces gathered in Polustro, recaptured the territory occupied by Remus for years, and surrounded the Remus troops in the city. At this point, Gladius and his comrades felt like trapped beasts.

  Gladius’s unit gathered their remaining forces, determined to use their current strength to break through the Republic of Yir’s blockade. Gladius stood up in distress and loaded his rifle. His body was weak—he hadn’t eaten for a long time. He listened to the orders and followed the others in charging toward the edge of the city. Suddenly, an enemy T-80U tank appeared and used its machine gun to mow down the soldiers beside Gladius into a bloody mess. Gladius quickly lay down and searched for cover, barely surviving.

  After the failed breakout and heavy casualties, the remaining Remus troops in Polustro had no choice but to surrender. Gladius was among them. He watched his army defeated and was taken away by Republic of Yir soldiers in chains and handcuffs.

  In the POW camp on the Northern Peninsula, Gladius was locked in a cell every day, shackled like a beast. Day after day, he gradually lost his passion for life. After being abducted to this other world and transformed into a werewolf, that drive to live was the only thing sustaining him. Under strict surveillance, he couldn’t even end his own life.

  Day after day passed with no end in sight. Then one day, a man wearing a tricorn hat and a three-piece suit came to visit the prison. Gladius recognized the man’s attire as the formal dress of humans in this world. Beside him was a man in a white coat, probably a doctor or scientist. Though this man did not appear to be military, the guards saluted him, indicating he held a high position.

  The man said, "You were originally human, right?"

  Gladius, with a sorrowful expression, nodded in his wolfkin body.

  "Are you from the Kingdom of Yir, the Republic of Yir..."

  Gladius knew the Kingdom of Yir—that was a nation south of the Kingdom of Remus, composed of humans and wolfkin. The Republic of Yir was a country that had gained independence from the Kingdom centuries ago.

  "...or from another world?" the man asked.

  "Another world," Gladius said weakly.

  People in this world generally knew about the other world—Earth. However, because travel between the two worlds required special connection pathways and was extremely difficult, Earth did not know about the existence of this world.

  "I see..." the man said.

  After a moment of silence, the man continued, "Would you be interested in becoming a citizen of our country and starting a new life?"

  Gladius nodded immediately. If it could get him out of this hell, he was willing to do anything.

  That same day, Gladius was released. The scientist who came with the man taught him how to return to human form. Before this, he had long forgotten what he originally looked like. Looking in the mirror, he was surprised to find he still had the appearance of a teenager. Only his red eyes and the pine-shaped mark on his chest remained.

  "Werewolves can live up to 200 years, so aging is greatly slowed," the scientist said.

  Then he was taken to shower. The filthy water flowed down the drain. After drying himself with a towel, he was given a set of clothes—a shirt and black trousers. He put them on. He hadn’t worn human clothes in a long time—about five years. Then he got into a black car, and sitting inside was the man he had just met.

  "Sorry for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Mark Rice, a member of parliament in the Republic of Yir," he said, extending his hand.

  Gladius shook hands with the man named Rice.

  "Young man, how old are you?" Mr. Rice asked.

  "About twenty," Gladius replied.

  Mr. Rice looked surprised, which was understandable. In human form, Gladius looked like he was only 14 or 15.

  Mr. Rice took out a brown envelope. Gladius opened it and saw an ID and a passport. The name written on it was "Ash Rice."

  Since then, I’ve lived in Mr. Rice’s home, living under the name Ash Rice. I still don’t understand why Mr. Rice took me in. What’s his motive? It’s impossible that he adopted me and created this identity for me purely out of kindness. But since he rescued me, a year has passed, and he has never once given me an order.

  Although there are many doubts, and I live under a false identity, all of this is still better than the life I had on the battlefield, being forced to kill. No matter what, I am very satisfied with my current life and am willing to do my best to protect it.

  Even so, I still envy Mikhail and Lyka. I envy their souls that have never experienced the pain I’ve endured.