Moonshadow Abyss

Jack's breath quickened, his fingertips instinctively pressing against the blurred surname, as if he could erase it just by touch.

"This can't be…" he murmured under his breath.

Aisha watched him, her gaze unreadable, layered with something complicated. "Do you know your family's history?"

Jack shook his head. His parents had died when he was very young. The only relative he had was an uncle he barely spoke to. He knew nothing about his lineage.

Aisha didn't look surprised. She closed the book, lowering her voice. "I don't know if you've noticed, but this city has been… uneasy lately. These murders—they're not just wild animal attacks. Or rather… not ordinary animals."

Jack's stomach sank. "What do you mean?"

Aisha didn't answer. Instead, she reached into her bag, pulled out a photograph, and slid it across the table.

The image was grainy, like a still from a surveillance camera. In the dimly lit street, a hunched figure crouched over something, seemingly feeding. It looked human, but its shoulders were unnaturally broad, its limbs distorted in proportion. The most unsettling detail was its fingers—elongated, ending in razor-sharp claws.

Jack's stomach twisted.

"This…" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"This was taken the night before last, at the scene of one of the murders." Aisha's voice was calm, almost too calm. "The police have hidden this image, but I have my ways."

Jack's hands trembled. "How did you get this?"

Aisha met his eyes, her voice deliberate. "Because I've been investigating them."

The air in the library seemed to drop a degree.

Jack stared at her. "Them?"

Aisha nodded slightly, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Werewolves."

Jack's heartbeat thundered in his ears, like it was trying to burst free from his chest.

"How do you know this?" he asked, his voice low.

Aisha leaned in, her breath barely a whisper against his ear. "Because… I'm part of an organization that hunts them."

For a moment, Jack's blood turned to ice.

"What did you just say?" His voice came out hoarse, foreign to his own ears.

Aisha slowly raised her hand, revealing a thin silver chain hidden beneath her sleeve. Dangling from it was a small, polished silver bullet.

"How do you think I got my information?" she asked.

Jack shot up from his seat, his entire body tensed like a coiled spring. His breathing was ragged, the veins on his temples pulsing, his fingers twitching—was it fear, or fury? He couldn't tell.

Aisha remained seated, her expression unwavering. "What are you so afraid of?"

Jack glared at her, his voice a deep growl. "Do you even know what I am?"

Aisha's fingers brushed over the silver bullet, her lips curling into a faint, almost dangerous smile.

"I don't," she admitted. Then, after a pause, her eyes darkened like the night itself.

"But I intend to find out."

Jack's heart pounded violently, as if an invisible hand had clenched around it. He stared at Aisha, and for the first time, she felt terrifyingly unfamiliar.

A werewolf hunter organization?

He had always thought Aisha was just an ordinary girl—mysterious at most. But now, her identity was far more complicated than he had imagined. And the thing she had been investigating in secret… was the very monster he might become.

Jack took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "How long have you been looking into this?"

Aisha was silent for a second before answering slowly, "For a long time."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "How long?"

"Longer than you've known me." Aisha's voice was quiet as her fingers absentmindedly toyed with the silver bullet on her chain. "I've been waiting… waiting for an opportunity."

Cold sweat formed on Jack's back. A chilling realization struck him—Aisha's approach to him might not have been a coincidence at all.

"You got close to me because of this, didn't you?" His voice was low, almost a growl.

Aisha looked up at him. Her expression remained calm, but there was a fleeting hesitation in her eyes. "…No."

But Jack wasn't listening anymore.

Pain flared inside him. A strange heat burned beneath his skin, his blood surging through his veins like it was being stirred by some uncontrollable force. His fingernails paled, his fingers tensed, and his bones let out faint cracking sounds.

Something was wrong.

Fighting against the growing fire inside him, he rasped out, "Aisha… if you've been hunting werewolves… have you ever considered that one might be right in front of you?"

Aisha didn't answer. Slowly, her hand slipped into her pocket.

Jack's pupils contracted, instantly registering the movement. It was the instinct of a predator—the scent of danger thickening in the air.

No—no, this wasn't his instinct…

"Are you planning to kill me?" His voice was as cold as ice.

Aisha didn't draw a weapon. Instead, she spoke softly, "I don't know if you're a werewolf. But if you are, I need to make sure you don't become the next killer."

"Make sure?" Jack let out a dry, bitter laugh, his lips twitching. "So if I really am one, you'd pull the trigger without hesitation?"

Aisha didn't confirm or deny it. She only watched him, as if weighing something in her mind.

"I want to help you," she said slowly. "But if you lose control, I have to do something."

Jack locked eyes with her, his breathing heavy. The fire inside him grew hotter, searing through his body. His fingers dug into his forehead, nails biting into his skin—something was happening to him, something irreversible.

Then, he heard it.

—Kill her.

A low, rasping voice, seeping into his mind like poison, echoing from the depths of his blood and bones.

Jack's pupils constricted sharply. His hands slammed onto the table, his fingertips nearly piercing through the wood. He gasped for breath, his voice strained with pain.

"Aisha… get out of here."

Aisha's expression finally shifted. "You—"

"Go!" Jack growled, veins bulging at his temples. Beneath his skin, his blood vessels darkened into an eerie black.

Aisha's pupils trembled. At last, she realized—Jack's body was undergoing an unstoppable transformation.

The air grew heavier, charged with an impending storm.