Third Person's POV Agnes had already reached a passable level-her footwork clean, her spins steady, the rise and fall of her wolf-breath aligned with the rhythm-but it still wasn't enough for Aysel of the Moonvale Pack. "Five days," Aysel said, her tone calm yet edged with Alpha precision. "You have only five days to push this dance to its limit. If it doesn't stun at first glance, this entire move on the board is wasted." Agnes lifted a shaky hand and flashed an okay gesture, though her fingers trembled like a young wolf in front of an elder's aura. Moon above, she had never worked this hard even when Giovanna hovered over her during training. "Did you really choreograph this yourself?" Agnes blurted, panting, hair plastered to her forehead. Her technique wasn't top-tier, but after years being quietly guided by Giovanna, her eye for quality was sharp. And she swore on the ancestral fangs: this piece was better than much of what established wolf-dance Masters produced. No wonder her aunt had gone silent when she asked for Magnus's mate's name. When she learned it was Aysel, she froze for a long moment-then murmured how wasteful it was that such talent had been left unused for so many years. "If Aysel had kept dancing," Giovanna had sighed, "she'd already have carved her name into the global dance halls." Aysel only replied softly, "It's just a personal hobby." Agnes could only respond with a silent thumbs-up. Thank the Moon she had retreated early from her reckless instincts. Beauty-wise, she couldn't compete with Aysel. Intelligence-wise, she was miles behind. And now, even in her pride-her art-she was being crushed. If she had stubbornly insisted on chasing Magnus Sanchez, the continent's strongest Alpha and the shadowborne wolf Rafe-she couldn't imagine the depth of her ruin right now. The studio door opened with a soft creak, and Magnus's striking face appeared, carved in cold perfection, eyes carrying the quiet pressure of a dominant wolf. "Dinner."Aysel rose lightly from the floor. Agnes, sensing the shift in aura, quickly grabbed her small bag and scurried over. "I-I have plans with a friend tonight! Won't eat here. I'll come again tomorrow morning!" she declared in one breath, then bolted as if a spirit wolf were chasing her. Yesterday she would've laughed at anyone claiming Magnus personally cooked meals for someone. But now she had seen it-experienced it-and the shock still rattled in her bones. Aysel disliked crowds; aside from the housekeeper who came weekly, she handled everything herself. So when they were home, the cooking usually fell to Magnus. Aysel found nothing unusual about it. But Agnes, witnessing an Alpha who once commanded entire battlefronts calmly preparing a table full of aromatic dishes... her eyes nearly fell out. And worse-Magnus up close was overwhelming. His scent, the cool metallic undertone of a Shadowbane Alpha, pressed subtly on her instincts. The air felt colder, heavier. Eating under his gaze felt like enduring a silent pack tribunal. Agnes would rather starve than endure that again. She was the textbook example of a wolf who admired dragons from afar but trembled when meeting the real thing. Watching her tiny figure flee down the path, Aysel laughed. "Magnus, you really are terrifying." Magnus's expression remained calm. He picked up her water cup, placing it aside as he asked, "Then why aren't you afraid of me?" Aysel thought about it seriously. On their first meeting she'd been emotionally shattered-her senses muted, her instincts numb. She hadn't processed his danger at all. And since she'd mistaken him for a predator harassing her, she'd hauled him straight to a Night Guard station. He had helped her afterward, solving problems she couldn't handle alone. Such a meeting stripped away much of the fear that should've come from his overpowering identity. Meanwhile, Zark-who had disgraced himself at the Moonveil Auction-returned to the Sanchez stronghold only to receive a harsh pack-law punishment from Bastien. A clean "kill one to warn the wolves." The entire Sanchez family had gone quiet afterward.Which allowed Aysel to focus fully on training Agnes. The Moonvale Pack's wardens informed her that someone from her former household had come searching at the old apartment. They left after waiting without finding her. Aysel didn't care. Cutting ties had opened a vast sky above her. While Aysel thrived, Celestine moved through her days with rising anxiety. Her injury and hospital stay had caused her to miss weeks of training-ruining the role she had prepared for half a year. The heroine spot was handed to the alternate dancer, Julia. Worse, someone had recently injected enormous funding into the dance troupe, clearly trying to push Julia into the spotlight. Julia was truly talented-stronger than most. Previously Aysel had overshadowed her because of Moonvale's resources and Celestine's position. But Julia had never been like Aine-who'd betrayed Aysel for quick money and abandoned her own future. Julia possessed talent and ambition. With the right opportunity, she'd soar. Every time Celestine looked at her, she was reminded of the brilliance Aysel once showed on stage. A genius half-grown is nothing. A genius fully awakened becomes a star that eclipses all. Watching Julia finish practice, laughing, sweat shimmering on her skin, Celestine's eyes darkened with something sharp. She had to secure the heroine role in the new international Master's production-no matter the cost. She had invested heavily in her solo performance, craving perfection in every aspect. The Moonvale Pack threw resources behind her. Advertisements, promotions-everything was prepared. She had even hired a top-level choreography Master. Yet something still felt... lacking. Not bad-just not unforgettable.And Celestine wanted unforgettable. Her anxiety over the performance drained her interest in deepening her connection with Damon. Especially with Damon despondent after Aysel had publicly slapped him. Celestine had no desire to see him moping around. She focused solely on herself. Leaving practice early with a dark cloud hanging over her, she exchanged a few clipped words with Julia and headed to a familiar mall for a massage. But as she approached the place, a sight through a floor-to-ceiling glass wall froze her in her tracks. Inside a small, nearly empty dance studio, a young girl-with a fresh, bright face-moved alone to music. Her clothes were cheap, her wolf-aura weak and unguarded, but each turn, each glance over her shoulder, carried breathtaking brilliance. Celestine knew instantly. This was it. She stayed at the window until the song ended, her eyes heating with every passing second. The girl finally collapsed onto the floor, drinking water. Celestine circled around and pushed the studio door open. "Mm? You are...?" The girl blinked up at her-innocent, inexperienced, soft like a young doe. "Sorry," Celestine said smoothly. "I just saw you dancing from outside. It was beautiful. I wanted to ask-did you choreograph that yourself?" The girl brightened immediately. "Yes! I spent so long on it. You saw? This is my first time dancing the finished version-you're my first audience~" She beamed with proud innocence, like a rabbit waiting for praise. "You have talent," Celestine said, eyes scanning her clothes, her posture, her scent-cheap fabric, no pack behind her, alone. "Are you here by yourself?" "Yeah. This studio's business isn't great. At this hour it's usually just me." She giggled shyly. "And it's cheaper when no one else books it." Celestine chatted with her for a while, enduring the girl's naïve small talk. Then she smiled."Have you ever considered selling this dance?" "Sell... like, letting someone else perform it? But what about rights...?" The girl hesitated, confused.