"I don't need it." Clayton clasped my hand tightly. "I can eat anything. There's no need to spend money on me. I won't die."

This amount of money was nothing more than Salem's monthly snack budget.

"It's fine." I ruffled Clayton's head and held out the newly selected collar and muzzle. "Do you like them?"

It was a slender black metal collar paired with a custom-made black muzzle.

I'd initially decided not to have Clayton wear such things anymore, but the doctor insisted on it.

"Don't be fooled by the wild beastkin's appearance. He could bite your neck off in one bite," he had said.

I could only try my best to choose something comfortable.

While removing his old muzzle, the doctor asked Clayton, "Were you a venting beastkin or a gladiator?"

Clayton lowered his head further, his voice muffled. "I was both."

"I see." The doctor handed me the old muzzle to examine. "Look at these teeth marks. He must have bitten down when the pain became unbearable."

Clayton paused. "That's from last night."

I froze.

"In the arena?" the doctor asked.

"No," Clayton said before glancing at my retreating figure. "That happened while venting."

…

I got home at dawn. My parents had long since fallen asleep.

Salem was most likely sleeping in my sister's room.

The cold, incandescent light in the entryway was the only thing greeting me.

"Come in." I kicked off my high heels and turned to look at Clayton.

The cold light swept across his high, prominent brow, settling on his angular features. He didn't move, his gaze fixed on the discarded collar on the floor.

I picked it up. "This is Salem's."

Salem was the service beastkin my parents gave me to compensate me for losing me for 18 years.

My parents lost me at five and were only reunited with me when I was 23.

Upon my return, I discovered that my parents had long ago adopted a little girl from the orphanage. Her name was Lisa Manfred. My parents had adopted her since infancy, and she was now 17.

Lisa reacted very poorly to my return. She couldn't accept that she was adopted.

She hurled everything within reach at me, wailing and screaming hysterically. "Get out! I'm their daughter! Why are you trying to take them from me? This is my house, you filthy beggar! Get out!"

My mother, Anna Larson, rushed over to embrace her, murmuring gentle words of comfort. "Don't cry, you'll always be our daughter. Just because your sister's back doesn't mean we don't love you anymore. We'll love you as much as we did. We'll love you both."

My father, John Manfred, stood protectively before me with a resigned look. "Lisa's been spoiled rotten by your mother, and now she has a real princess complex. Since you're six years older, do try to be more patient with her later on."

I should've been heartbroken, but I was already 23. I had already moved past the age of craving my parents' affection. By then, I had entered the age of liking wealth even more.

I lowered my gaze, tears of hurt trailing down my cheeks. "I understand, Dad."

Showing vulnerability had its uses after all. Now, the monthly allowance I received kept increasing.

During the first birthday celebration at my new home, my parents gifted me Salem, a show-quality service wolfhound.

"You're too shy," my parents said. "We're giving you a puppy so you can be more lively and cheerful."

At the time, Salem was just a puppy that hadn't shapeshifted.

This made Lisa cry buckets. "Why does only Lisa get one? You promised not to play favorites! He's mine!"

She scooped up Salem and vanished after dashing outside. My birthday party was ruined, and I no longer had a present.

Mom and Dad were at their wits' end, weeping every day.

I wept too. "It's my fault, Mom and Dad. I'm sorry. I pushed her away."

It wasn't until one afternoon over ten days later that Lisa and Salem reappeared at the front door, covered in dust and dirt. "Mom and Dad, I'm so hungry. I'm sorry, I won't run away again."

Mom and Dad rushed forward to hug Lisa, and all three of them wept uncontrollably.

After crying, Mom turned around and suddenly remembered that there was still the odd one out in the house—me. Her expression instantly turned guilty, and she turned and slapped Lisa hard across the face.

"Did you just hit me?" Lisa's eyes brimmed with tears. “Do you have any idea what I've been through these past ten days? I finally made it back, and you hit me!"

"Have you ever considered what your sister has endured these past 18 years?" Mom pulled Dad back as he tried to comfort Lisa. "If you can't accept your sister, then you're no longer my daughter!"

From then on, Lisa no longer openly picked fights with me.

Not long after she returned Salem to me, Salem shapeshifted.

He had curly black hair, almond-shaped eyes with slightly downturned corners, and glossy black fur.

He tilted his head at me and called out the first name he'd ever heard in his transformed state. "Lisa?"

"I'm Lisa!" Lisa rushed up from behind me and jumped into his arms. "Salem, you actually remember me! Remember when I brought you with me to wander the streets?"

Salem caught her with ease, his tail wagging happily. "I remember. I remember everything about you."

My parents sighed and put their arms around my shoulders to comfort me.

Salem was sullen for a long time after he found out I was his true owner.

I tried different methods to coax him every day before he reluctantly accepted me.

He stubbornly refused to wag his tail at me or let me touch his ears, nor did he wait for me to come home as other beastkin did.

He only reacted to Lisa's footsteps and awaited her return.

I always watch them interact in a daze, but deep down, I didn't really mind because Salem's substantial monthly expenses were deposited into my account.

My parents' silent guilt also kept flowing into my account.

It was just that recently, I'd started getting pimples. After a checkup, I realized my body actually had… needs.

Salem refused to let me touch him. Since Clayton happened to show up, I had no reason to refuse.

"Why don't you sleep in my room tonight?" I took Clayton's hand and led him toward the bedroom. "I'll take you shopping for clothes tomorrow."

"Won't he mind?" Clayton asked.

I turned around to face him. "Who?"

"Salem." He lowered his gaze and added, "Wolfhounds can be territorial."

"No. He doesn't like rooming with me."

Clayton suddenly remembered something and tightened his grip on my hand. "Do we still have to tonight?"

"Have to what?" I asked.

A faint blush spread across the tips of his ears. "To vent."

"I want to, but my legs are sore," I replied.

"I'm in great shape, so you can just relax."

"That sounds like a hassle," I said.

"It's not."

…

"Layla?"

That morning, I happened to leave the room as Salem did.

He frowned at me. "Why were you talking in your sleep all night? All that whimpering and moaning… Didn't you realize how noisy it was?"

I didn't get annoyed and replied good-naturedly, "Sorry, I'll keep it down next time."

His tone softened slightly as he awkwardly asked, "Did you have a nightmare? I thought I heard you crying."

"That was from pleasure," I thought.

"If you're having nightmares, I can—"

As he spoke, he was suddenly interrupted by Lisa saying, "Salem, my slippers are missing."

"Don't just wander barefoot." Salem strode over to Lisa's bedroom and carried her outside. "How could your slippers be in the hall when you're in the bedroom, silly?"

"I was too tired yesterday. You're the one who carried me to bed last night," she replied.

Salem held Lisa as he helped her find her bunny slippers. Then he sat her on his lap, held her ankles, and patiently slipped the slippers onto her feet.

Only after finishing these tasks did Salem head upstairs toward the bathroom.

He was a perfect service beastkin—only his services weren't directed at me.

"Layla, my clothes are in the laundry basket. Remember to send them for dry cleaning," he ordered.

As he passed by me, he suddenly halted. "What's that scent?"

I was puzzled. "Huh?"

Salem stepped closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. The more he sniffed at me, the tighter his grip became.

"Layla, why do you smell of another beastkin?" he demanded.

I said nothing.