“How can you all chat so merrily with a filthy werewolf? Does it not disgust you?”

  The jarring voice shattered the harmony of the gathering in an instant. The hum of conversation fell silent as Glenn and the others turned toward the speaker—a white-scaled, draconic creature named Gabbai, who approached with a sneer curling on his face.

  “Gabbai, we’ve all gathered here to enjoy ourselves for once—don’t stir up trouble!” A burly man among the guests frowned, his tone reproachful.

  “I’m not stirring trouble,” Gabbai replied coolly, circling closer until he stood beside Glenn. “The one causing trouble… is him.”

  His words drew low murmurs from the crowd—half in annoyance, half in anticipation of another of Gabbai’s theatrics.

  Finally, Gabbai stopped before Glenn, their gazes locking. Glenn merely regarded him with mild amusement, the faint curl of his lips carrying a hint of mockery. That look alone made Gabbai’s blood boil.

  He turned to the onlookers, raising his voice so all could hear. “I know everyone wishes to enjoy this banquet—as do I. But I simply cannot tolerate the presence of a werewolf among us!”

  The crowd erupted in restless whispers.

  “A werewolf? Impossible! That young man seems so calm, so decent.” “And Lady Regila would never associate with one. There must be some mistake.” “Gabbai doesn’t usually lie… but still, it seems strange.”

  Tia squeezed through the onlookers, tugging at Glenn’s sleeve with anxious eyes. Glenn only gave her a reassuring glance, silently telling her to stay back—he would handle this.

  Across the hall, the commotion had already drawn the attention of the hosts—the Black Raven couple.

  “That Gabbai—still the same arrogant fool,” Dao’ov muttered, gripping his staff. “So unlike his elder brother! I cannot fathom why Redvit would send such a brainless whelp.”

  Lady Regila, reclining gracefully on her seat, sighed. “Perhaps Redvit had no choice. He’s always busy—you know that.”

  “Shall I intervene?” Dao’ov asked.

  But Regila stopped him with a hand, pondering for a moment before leaning closer to whisper something into his ear.

  Meanwhile, Gabbai continued to taunt Glenn, his tone sharp with provocation. “What’s the matter, werewolf? No explanation? Or are you about to transform and attack us all?”

  Glenn scratched his head as though genuinely puzzled. “Why do you say I’m a werewolf? Do you have proof?”

  That feigned innocence made Gabbai’s temper snap. “Do you take me for a fool? My senses clearly—”

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  He froze mid-sentence. The dragon’s nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, then narrowed his eyes, sensing again—and his expression twisted with disbelief.

  “H–how is this possible?! What did you do?!”

  Glenn shrugged. “Do? I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I… I—” Gabbai stammered, utterly at a loss.

  The bystanders, catching his flustered state, began to laugh and jeer.

  “So it was all nonsense! What a waste of breath.” “Must be bored—trying to make a spectacle for us, like some second-rate stage play.” “Were it not for his brother, he’d never have met Lady Regila at all.”

  If dragons could blush, Gabbai’s scales would have turned crimson from snout to tail. The humiliation was real enough regardless.

  Hidden among the crowd, Baiyi clutched his stomach, struggling not to burst out laughing. What an amusing sight, he thought. That Glenn fellow truly knows how to toy with people.

  The mockery struck Gabbai like knives. His mind roared like a brewing storm, rage surging to the edge of eruption. He drew a deep breath, ready to unleash his dragonfire—

  When a voice cut sharply through the tension, saving him from his own folly. “This is Lady Regila’s birthday celebration. What nonsense is this commotion?”

  It was Dao’ov.

  “Master Dao’ov, it was Gabbai who started it!” cried a tiny tree spirit, pointing indignantly at the dragon.

  Gabbai bared his teeth, and the terrified sprite darted behind Dao’ov for cover.

  “Explain yourself, Lord Gabbai,” Dao’ov said sternly.

  “I wasn’t causing trouble!” Gabbai protested, his tone defensive. “I simply can’t understand why Lady Regila would invite a werewolf! Such creatures don’t belong here!”

  Dao’ov listened quietly, then nodded once.

  Before he could respond, a woman in a long gown spoke up. “Master Dao’ov, Gabbai has shown no proof of his accusation. It’s merely his word.”

  “My innate senses never lie!” Gabbai roared in frustration.

  “Enough.” Dao’ov’s calm voice carried such weight that the hall fell instantly silent.

  He turned to Glenn. “And what do you have to say, Mr. Glenn?”

  Glenn sighed lightly. “Well, since we’re being honest… yes, I was teasing Lord Gabbai. I am indeed a werewolf.”

  A collective gasp swept the room.

  “He really is one? Incredible—I’d never have guessed.” “I’ve met werewolves before, and none carried themselves like him.” “Perhaps Lady Regila has her reasons…”

  Their tones held no hostility—only curiosity and mild intrigue. They knew full well that Glenn’s earlier deception had been meant to humble the arrogant dragon.

  Dao’ov cleared his throat, restoring order once more. Gabbai’s eyes bulged, his teeth grinding audibly. “You mean to tell me—you toyed with me? You made me a fool on purpose?”

  Glenn smirked. “Exactly. Surely you’re not angry over that? Don’t tell me you’re so thin-skinned.”

  The words left Gabbai seething, speechless in rage.

  You dare play games with me… Glenn thought with a faint, cold smile.

  “Master Dao’ov!” Gabbai finally shouted. “You heard him! He’s a werewolf—he has no right to be here!”

  Dao’ov’s expression didn’t change. “And who decides such rights? Anyone invited by Lady Regila is welcome here, regardless of race.”

  “But—”

  “Enough.” Dao’ov’s voice cut through again. “It’s clear this is not about species—it’s about you and Mr. Glenn personally, isn’t it?”

  “I…” Gabbai faltered, glancing around, unable to answer.

  “In that case,” Dao’ov continued smoothly, “the simplest solution is a fair one. The two of you shall settle this with a duel.”

  The hall went utterly still—then erupted into cheers from those who loved spectacle and combat alike.

  “A duel!” “Now that’s worth watching!”

  Glenn’s eyes lit up with interest. “Now that sounds like my kind of entertainment.”

  Gabbai’s lips twisted in something between pride and satisfaction. To call it a duel against a mere werewolf was beneath him—but the opportunity to thrash his opponent in front of everyone was too tempting to resist.

  As Glenn flexed his fingers in anticipation, a voice echoed softly in his mind—Dao’ov’s calm, resonant tone:

  Teach him a good lesson. That’s Lady Regila’s wish as well. Don’t worry—you won’t displease her.