The Wolf's Judgment
“I… see.”
I answered with a hint of reluctance. I didn’t let my surprise show. I had been trained never to display emotional signals outwardly. Concealing my expression was second nature.
Feigning composure, I continued with my question.
“Why did you kill him?”
“Because he deserved to die.”
Gwangrang’s voice carried no trace of guilt or regret. She spoke as if the act had been entirely justified.
She closed her eyes briefly, as though sifting through memories, then opened them and went on.
“Naikle was supposed to be sold to a mercenary band. It’s a common occurrence among the werewolf clans.”
Werewolves generally lived by their instincts. I wasn’t a speciesist, but the public viewed them as impulsive, savage, and gluttonous. Because of that, werewolf families sometimes sold their children to cults or mercenary groups simply to cut down on food expenses.
Naikle had been chosen as that sacrifice.
“The problem was the night before… the very night before she was to be handed over.”
“What happened?”
“Her father came for her while she was asleep. I’d rather not describe it in detail.”
Gwangrang’s eyes flashed. Recalling that night clearly reignited her fury.
“Naikle was only fifteen. She had no strength to resist. Her mother was already dead, and she had no siblings. No one could stop him.”
“So you killed him.”
“Yes. I have no regrets. If I went back, I’d do it again.”
Gwangrang bared her teeth in a smile. Beneath that savage grin lingered a strange trace of sorrow.
“…Afterward, the Public Security Bureau launched an investigation, but they never discovered I was the culprit. They ruled it a simple robbery-homicide.”
I felt a faint sense of dissonance at that moment, but I simply nodded and let her continue.
“Director Justin, who led the investigation, must have pitied Naikle. He took her in and raised her. That’s how she ended up joining the Bureau.”
“…I see.”
I lowered my head, lost in thought for a moment. After quickly organizing the new information in my mind, I looked up again.
“Does Naikle know any of this?”
“No. She doesn’t know she was nearly assaulted by her own father, or that I killed him.”
I finally understood why Gwangrang had asked whether a comfortable lie or a cruel truth was better. The truth surrounding Naikle wasn’t merely cruel—it was filthy and repulsive.
“I just wanted to protect her.”
“Is that why you carry out these ‘judgments’?”
I had assumed as much. Gwangrang despised organizations that committed vile acts, just like the father who had tried to assault Naikle, and that was why she passed judgment on them.
But Gwangrang didn’t nod right away. She seemed to chew on my words, then let out a short laugh.
“Judgment, huh… I suppose it could look that way. But it’s not some grand crusade. I’m simply—”
Gwangrang suddenly stopped mid-sentence and flared her nostrils.
Thud, thud!
She thrashed against the restraints, trying to break free from the chair. The force was so great that the chair creaked ominously, as if it might actually shatter.
Her sudden outburst caught me off guard. I tried to calm her.
“Gwangrang, what’s wrong?”
“Untie me, Counselor. Untie me, now!”
“I can’t do that. The session isn’t—”
“Shut up and untie me!”
Gwangrang’s red eyes flashed toward me, brimming with unmistakable killing intent. Saliva dripped from her mouth. I recognized the physiological response—werewolves entered that state when preparing for combat.
“Why are you acting like this…?”
“You idiot! Did you even check if anyone was following us on the way here? Untie me, quick!”
While Gwangrang berated me with words I couldn’t understand, a loud banging echoed from the door.
Bang, bang, bang!
Someone was pounding on it violently. It couldn’t be a client—I had sent letters to today’s scheduled visitors informing them the office was closed, and I had posted a sign on the door as well. That left only uninvited guests. Their arrival was clearly connected to Gwangrang’s desperate struggle.
I didn’t have time to debate whether to open the door. Moments later came the sound of wood splintering.
These were impatient visitors indeed.
“Eris.”
“Yes. I’ll protect Gwangrang.”
“Who’s protecting who? Untie me, grrr!”
“If you keep causing a scene, I’ll administer the Lullaby of the Mist.”
Eris nodded. By then Gwangrang could only emit low growls, no longer forming coherent words. She seemed to have lost all reason to rage.
The restraints creaked repeatedly as she continued to thrash. I stepped out of the room to confront the intruders.
The broken door lay discarded on the floor. Four large, menacing men stood there, each gripping a weapon and staring at me.
I approached them.
“I’m sorry, but we’re not seeing patients today.”
“Patients? Are you a doctor?”
“Something like that. More precisely, a counselor…”
There was no need for further explanation. The men ignored my words entirely and began muttering among themselves.
Eventually, the most vicious-looking one among them fixed his glare on me. A small sword-shaped tattoo marked the skin beneath his eye.
“Doctor. My subordinate saw you carrying Gwangrang here.”
“Gwangrang…? Ah, you mean that urban legend?”
I kept my expression perfectly neutral. The tattooed man stared hard at my face, as if trying to read it. He wouldn’t succeed, of course.
Just then, a dull thud came from inside the office—from the room where Gwangrang was. A faint growl followed.
The tattooed man frowned.
“What’s that sound?”
“Probably just the wind. I left a window open.”
“Sounds more like a damn dog to me.”
“Strange. It sounds like wind to me.”
“Oh? So you’re saying my ears are broken?”
“Perhaps. Would you like me to take a look?”
The man’s expression twisted into something truly vicious.
“There’s always idiots who can’t understand a single word unless you spell it out… Tch.”
He suddenly extended his arm. There was no time to dodge. His limb wrapped around me like a snake.
The world spun.
Crash!
When I came to, I was sprawled ungracefully on the floor. He had used some technique to throw me. A sharp pain radiated from my back where I had struck the ground.
His subordinates laughed as they looked down at me. The tattooed man regarded me with cold eyes.
I dusted off my knees and stood up, then moved to block his path toward Gwangrang’s room.
“…That hurt.”
“Move. Next time I won’t stop at just throwing you.”
“Why are you looking for Gwangrang?”
“Because that bastard attacked our organization.”
The tattooed man spoke calmly, though his eyes burned with killing intent.
“It seems the organization you belong to engages in evil deeds.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I’ve heard Gwangrang only judges the wicked. What exactly do you do?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“It’s part of a counselor’s job to be curious.”
“Let me give you one warning…”
The man stepped closer. He first tapped my shoulder, then began poking at my neck and cheek.
“Curiosity like that will get you killed young, Doctor.”
“I imagine I’ll outlive you.”
He glared at me with murderous eyes. A thick, repulsive scent of killing intent washed over me.
“I was planning to just search and leave… but I suppose I’ll have to fix that mouth of yours first. Boys.”
He signaled his subordinates with a glance.
“Cut out his tongue. And his ankles. Since he’s a doctor, leave his arms intact so he can still operate.”
“Yes, sir.”
The men answered in low voices and advanced toward me, gripping clubs and daggers. A nauseating scent emanated from them—a mixture of killing intent, hostility, excitement, and pleasure. Their eyes, expressions, and the emotional scent all lacked even a shred of guilt. They were so accustomed to violence and murder that they actually enjoyed it.
‘These men cannot be reformed.’
I stepped backward while reaching into my pocket. My fingers closed around a flask containing blue liquid.
Call of the Dawn—an undiluted stimulant. The version I prescribed to clients was diluted to one-twentieth strength. Drinking the pure concentrate would normally cause vomiting or even death in an ordinary person.
But I was no ordinary person.
I uncorked the flask and swallowed the liquid in one go. A burning sensation trailed down my throat. The effects hit instantly.
“Wh… at… the… hell…?”
The subordinates’ mocking words reached my ears with agonizing slowness. Their movements appeared almost frozen.
‘The world feels slowed down.’
More precisely, my nervous system had been accelerated by the stimulant. My reaction speed and thoughts had become so fast that everything else seemed sluggish.
I immediately pulled out the next flask—Lullaby of the Mist, an undiluted sedative. While injection was most effective, oral ingestion or absorption through mucous membranes also worked. In its pure form, even skin contact could trigger the effect.
Whoosh!
I sprayed the undiluted sedative over the tattooed man and his subordinates. He reacted quickly and ducked, but the others weren’t so fortunate. They were drenched in the liquid. At first they simply blinked in confusion, not yet realizing what had happened.
Then the effects took hold.
“Ugh… ah…?”
Their eyes rolled back. Strength drained from their bodies, which had been tense with anticipation. One by one they collapsed, limbs limp, like paper dolls caught in the wind.
“You… what…?”
The tattooed man, now alone, looked momentarily bewildered before his face contorted with rage.
“You… son… of… a… bitch…!”
He drew a dagger from his coat and charged. Calling it a dagger was generous—it was nearly as long as a forearm. The blade whistled toward my neck.
Whoosh!
In my accelerated state, the attack looked like a child’s game. I tilted my head back and evaded it effortlessly, then closed the distance in an instant.
“Hrk…!”
Startled, he tried to retreat, but I gave him no chance. I crushed the empty sedative flask in my hand. Shards flew through the air. I snatched the largest, sharpest fragment.
Thud.
I drove it into the side of his neck. His eyes widened in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
“Ghk… urk.”
Understanding dawned too late. He dropped to his knees, clutching his throat.
“You… who… are you…? Not… a doctor… Who… sent you…?”
His words were slurred and disjointed as death approached.
“I’m a counselor, not a doctor. Though I suppose I’m both.”
“Kgh…”
He pressed desperately against the wound, but it was already too late. His body trembled once, then went limp.
‘He’s dead.’
Blood pooled across the floor. I closed my eyes tightly. The metallic stench filling the office was unbearable. My hands shook as I stared at the corpses.
Upon closer inspection, each of them bore a tattoo near the ankle—a sock-shaped mark, vivid red as if drawn in blood. I recognized the symbol.
‘…Castalnus.’
A vicious syndicate involved in everything from petty theft to human trafficking, especially the abduction and sale of young girls. The Public Security Bureau had issued a large-scale wanted notice for them. Justin had once mentioned how difficult they were to track because they frequently relocated their hideouts and operated in isolated cells.
Any lingering guilt vanished. These men deserved to die.
‘No—rather, they needed to be eliminated.’
Now came the cleanup.