When Glen turned his gaze back, he found Leila’s face startlingly close—her dark, crystal-clear eyes glimmered as though starlight danced within them. His right hand was still clasped tightly in hers. Alarmed that he might react impulsively, Glen swiftly withdrew it. “Miss Leila, why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, taking a half-step back.

  He had no desire to harbor improper thoughts toward a girl so young.

  Leila blinked as if waking from a trance, only then realizing what she had done. The rush of excitement in her chest faded into awkwardness. To grasp a man’s hand so freely—it was hardly proper. A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mr. Glen. That was terribly rude of me…”

  “It’s nothing,” Glen replied calmly. “Just try not to be so reckless next time.” “I usually only act that way with my female friends,” Leila stammered. “I suppose I got a bit too excited…”

  You held my hand the first time we met, and now again, Glen mused inwardly, suppressing a sigh. Aloud, he asked, “Were you about to say something just now?”

  Leila exhaled softly to steady herself before speaking with earnest gravity. “Mr. Glen, I’d like to write down the story you told earlier—would that be all right?”

  Glen raised his brows. “You liked it that much?” “Yes,” she said solemnly. “I swear, I’ve never loved a story as deeply as I did today.”

  Her tone was so sincere that Glen knew she spoke from the heart. After a moment’s thought, a new idea stirred within him. “Of course you may,” he said. “But I’d like to give you a task, if you’re willing.”

  “A task?” she echoed, puzzled. “What kind of task?” “You saw what happened earlier,” Glen explained. “There are many children in town like those two. Why not do as I did—share this story with them? What do you think?”

  Leila’s eyes widened, her face lighting up with uncontained delight. “That’s exactly what I was thinking!”

  “Uh…” Glen blinked, a little taken aback. Then he added, “One story might not be enough. Next time, I’ll write a few more fairy tales for you. How does that sound?”

  “There will be more?” Leila exclaimed, grabbing his hand again, her face flushed with excitement—only to release him in embarrassed haste. Standing abruptly, she brushed the dust from her skirt. “Then I’ll go home and record the story at once. Goodbye, Mr. Glen!”

  Before he could reply, she darted off like the wind.

  Glen chuckled and stood as well, stretching lazily. “I’d better get back… still need to bake that cake.”

  His deer had long finished its feed and was now nibbling tufts of grass growing through cracks in the stone path. At Glen’s command, it lifted its head obediently and began pulling the cart toward the outskirts of town.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Tia sat gloomily at Glen’s doorstep, a cloud of worry on her face. Earlier that day, she had seen several rough-looking strangers entering and leaving Bayek Town—people whose very bearing felt wrong. Yet still, Glen had not returned.

  She was restless, her mind fixed on learning how to make cakes; waiting even a moment longer felt unbearable. In truth, it was only a little past two in the afternoon. Glen usually left early and came home late, but Tia had forgotten this detail.

  As she sat daydreaming, a coarse male voice suddenly broke the quiet. “So this is the kid’s place, huh? Smells just like him.”

  Startled, Tia turned and froze in fear. Three men stood a short distance away—hard-faced, dangerous types. One carried Gotaya slung over his shoulder, bound tightly with rope, her mouth gagged so that she could only make muffled sounds. Another had Night Howl tied up like a mummy and hefted over his back, the creature writhing helplessly.

  That man’s strength was monstrous—Night Howl had grown nearly a ton in weight, yet he carried it with ease.

  “Who are you people?! Let go of the elf lady at once, or Mr. Glen will never forgive you!” Tia cried, standing her ground.

  The leader ignored her plea and sneered. “Tell me, little girl—where did the owner of this house go? Do that, and maybe I won’t hurt you.”

  “Release the elf first!” Tia demanded firmly.

  The man’s grin widened as he stepped closer, heavy boots thudding against the ground. “You really don’t understand, do you? I’m not asking—I’m commanding.” He reached out a rough hand toward her chin.

  But in that instant, Tia moved. A flash of silver gleamed as a dagger appeared in her hand, slashing straight for his throat. The man’s eyes widened—he jerked back just in time, and the blade carved a red line across his cheek.

  Tia lunged again, but a powerful hand seized her wrist, unyielding no matter how she struggled. “Such a disobedient girl,” the man snarled—and drove his fist into her stomach.

  Agonizing pain burst through her, and her consciousness went dark.

  He tossed her limp body to one of his men. “Tie her up. She’ll make good rations for the road.” The subordinate caught her and quickly bound her with rope pulled from his pack.

  “We’ll wait here,” the leader said coldly, “for the one who killed Baggins to return.” His companions grinned wickedly in agreement.

  Inside a nearby house, Miss Puppet had witnessed the entire scene through a window. She was about to leap down to help when her brother’s voice stopped her.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Aina?” “Our neighbor’s in trouble! Of course I’m going to help!” she replied indignantly.

  “You will not,” said her brother—the one in the blue vest—his tone brooking no argument. “But—” “No buts!” Philindes stepped forward, eyes sharp. “It’s not our concern. You know the rules of this town—no meddling. Stir up trouble here, and we’ll wake things best left asleep.”

  “I…” Aina wanted to protest, but she couldn’t refute him. “If you go, you’ll cause chaos—and then there’ll be no place left for us. Shut the window. Let him handle it himself.”

  Reluctantly, Miss Puppet obeyed.

  Glen had just entered the outer woods of Bayek when he caught a strange, foreign scent. “Werewolves…” he murmured, a bad feeling twisting in his gut. He leapt from the cart and sprinted ahead at full speed.

  It didn’t take long to reach the pigpen. The moment he saw it, fury erupted within him.

  The area he had recently repaired was now in ruins—splintered wood scattered everywhere. The pigpen itself still stood, but when he checked inside, his temper flared further.

  “Three are missing!” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  A quick scan revealed bloodstains and chunks of flesh—clear evidence that they’d been eaten. The remaining black pigs had been spared, likely because the intruders planned to take them alive.