"Carving? Mr. Richard, but ... this bracelet looks completely plain," Jessica said, puzzled. Richard gave a small snort. "No designs? Are you all blind? It's right there for anyone to see." He placed the bracelet back in its velvet box and held it out for everyone to look. Curious, the crowd leaned in. A moment later, gasps of amazement filled the air. From afar, the bracelet looked like a string of ordinary stone beads. But up close, the details emerged—astonishingly intricate carvings graced each bead. Mountains, rivers, endless landscapes—all captured in miniature, as if an entire world had been etched into stone. No two beads were the same; each design held a different meaning. Even if you ignored the symbolism, the craftsmanship alone was beyond compare. No one on the entire Werewolf Continent could possibly replicate such skill. Many of the werewolves present had never seen anything like it. Their stunned silence eventually gave way to admiration. Jessica stood frozen, shocked. Compared to this, the intricately carved mountain centerpiece she'd proudly gifted earlier now seemed amateurish. After all, carving onto a single bead was far more difficult than shaping a larger chunk of spirit stone. "This is incredible—there wasn't a hint of design when you looked at it from a distance." "Who on earth could make something like this?" "Didn't Ms. Sinclair say it was crafted by some ordinary old man? Are there really sculptors even more talented than the famous masters?" "I thought Ms. Sinclair's gift was average, but now ... I see she put the most heart into it." One by one, werewolves began crowding around me, eager to ask where I had the bracelet made. Richard quickly closed the box, clutching it like a treasure as his thumb brushed against the Moon Goddess charm hanging from the strand. His fingers paused—he'd felt something on the back. He turned it over. And froze. On the underside of one of the beads, carved in ancient script, was a name. Narrowing his eyes, Richard looked up at me. "Do I know this person?" I smiled knowingly. "Of course you do, Richard. It's Shay." "You—you actually convinced that old man to do this?" he asked, stunned.Others nearby looked lost. A few of the younger werewolves exchanged whispers. "Who's Shay? Never heard of him." "Must be some legendary sculptor." Jessica squinted, clearly trying to place the name but failing. "Well," I said with a sly grin, "I didn't exactly tell Shay this bracelet was for you. I just asked him to teach me how to make it. If he finds out who it was for, he might just be mad at me." The image of Shay's grumpy scowl flashed in my mind, and I winced a little. "Wait ... he taught you?" Richard picked up on the slip right away. I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Shay taught me the carving techniques himself. I'm still not that skilled though—I had to ask him for some help in the final touches." What I said was only half true. Shay had guided me through the designs, yes. But in reality, I'd long since mastered the art. A rookie couldn't have carved something like this, no matter how much help they got. "Rosie ... What other surprises are you hiding from me?" Richard asked, eyes warm as he patted my hand. Jessica, on the other hand, looked completely rattled. "No way. You couldn't have made this yourself!" she blurted. "I told you—Shay helped a lot," I replied calmly, meeting her gaze. Jessica's smile grew stiff. "I'd love to meet this Shay. He must be some hidden expert. Where on earth did Ms. Sinclair find him?" I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come now, Ms. Sullivan. You should know him—especially since you admire someone like Norris." Jessica's expression faltered; she forced a smile and said, "Ms. Sinclair, you must be mistaken. I don't recall ever meeting a sculptor named Shay." Just then, an older werewolf standing beside Richard spoke up. "Ms. Sinclair ... This Shay you're talking about—could he be Shamus?" "Who?!" Someone shouted in shock the moment they heard the name. "I'm surprised someone actually figured it out," I replied with a smile. "That's right—the old man I know is none other than Shamus Bailey himself." Then I turned to look at Jessica, who was still frozen in disbelief, and asked with genuine curiosity, "Ms. Sullivan, don't tell me you've never heard of Shamus?"