“Blair, if you wish to dissolve your mate contract with James, you must voluntarily give up the ten million-credit resource allotment granted to you by the clan, as well as one-third of your designated core-territory shares. You will leave Moon-Mark City with nothing.”

“Alright.”

The clan adjudicator paused for a moment, startled. His tone grew even colder.

“You must also relinquish all future custody rights to any offspring, and you are forever forbidden from forming any bloodline link with James or any of his future young. Do you understand what you are agreeing to?”

“I accept.”

My voice was calm, cold—like wind cutting across a snowfield.

Three days ago marked the fifth year of my Moon-Vow union with James, and also the day our mate contract was supposed to be renewed.

But my mate—the Alpha I once believed was destined for me—was lighting fireworks at the Galactic River with his childhood sweetheart, the clan’s most beloved Omega.

Those were frost-silver fireworks, reserved only for the royal bloodline during their most significant celebrations.

Many werewolves stopped to admire them. Someone casually captured the moment on an image stone and posted it on the MoonNet. The scene spread quickly across the clans, drawing waves of praise.

“They look perfect together.”

“An Alpha is born to stand beside the gentlest Omega.”

“Compared to his current mate, that one is much more pleasing to the eye.”

Even James’s friends sent me messages, half-joking:

“Why didn’t you go?”

“So what are you going to do now?”

I replied only one line:

“What else is there to do?”

That night, I sat alone in the vast, empty Mate Hall.

The oil lamps beneath the silver dome had gone cold.

The anniversary feast I had prepared with my own hands exuded a faint chill.

Listening to their laughter on the image stone, my chest felt as if a silver blade had sliced it open.

Five years of companionship.

Five years of night-bound journeys at each other’s side.

All of it shattered—destroyed entirely by a single display of frost-silver fireworks.

1.

That night was my birthday.

James had promised he would return early to our shared territory to celebrate with me.

But at dusk, he suddenly sent a message through the mind-link, claiming the clan had urgent matters to handle and he might return late.

I believed him.

And even so, I still waited for that moment when he would open the door—

even if it was only to cut a small piece of cake with me under the full moon.

I never imagined that his so-called “clan duty”

was actually lighting royal fireworks at Riverbend Cliff with his childhood sweetheart—

the Omega most blessed by the clan, Aria.

How ironic.

In the image stone, James’s handsome Alpha features were illuminated by the shimmering trails of moon-scar fireworks.

The man who was usually cold, distant, and stone-faced

was smiling—truly smiling.

And the way he looked at Aria…

his gaze was so gentle it nearly melted into the night.

A gaze I had never once received.

I always thought he simply disliked expressing emotions.

I even believed that an Alpha’s aloofness was instinctive.

But after seeing that recording, I finally understood—

he had simply never given his warmth to me.

I let out a faint, self-mocking laugh.

I unwrapped the birthday cake I had bought for myself and quietly ate it.

The sweet cream dissolved on my tongue,

yet somehow, everything tasted like nothing.

I picked up the communication stone and sent a mind-link call to James.

He answered quickly, his voice still clipped and icy.

“What is it?”

As he spoke, I could clearly hear the roar of moon-flame fireworks in the background.

Frost-silver fire—something only royals or high-ranking Alphas were permitted to ignite.

I fell silent for two seconds, swallowed the cake in my mouth, and asked calmly,

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the council hall processing documents. Did something happen?”

He had likely already left the cliff; the sound of fireworks was fading.

His tone remained perfectly even, not a hint of guilt.

A high-tier Alpha’s lies were always flawless.

I glanced at the image stone still replaying that scene over and over,

and suddenly, I felt nothing at all.

“Let’s dissolve our mate contract.”

“You’re overreacting again.”

I let out a low, cold laugh.

“Why don’t you check MoonNet, my dear clan hero?”

With that, I severed the mind-link.

Since I was the one who initiated the dissolution,

I no longer had any reason to stay on his territory.

I looked at the cold remains of the birthday feast on the table,

stood up, and walked toward the kitchen.

I found a few containers and carefully packed everything away.

Then I quickly packed my luggage, summoned a night-running carriage beast,

and returned to the small apartment that belonged solely to me.

That apartment had been a gift from my parents for my coming-of-age ceremony.

After I bonded with James, he always said that traveling between our two clan territories was a hassle,

persuading me to move into his Alpha stronghold in the central district.

But the distance between those two territories

was the same distance that had grown between him and me.

We lived on the same land,

close enough to touch,

yet separated as if by the entire Frozen Sea Strait.

A distance harder to cross than any mountain.

Back in the long-unseen apartment—

my private inheritance from my adulthood ceremony—

I tidied up quietly.

After washing the dishes and leaving them to dry under the candlelight,

I lay down on the familiar bed.

The next morning, there were only a few messages from James on the communication stone.

What’s wrong with you now?

Come back when you’ve calmed down. Don’t be stubborn.

He must have returned to his Alpha estate last night

and realized I had already moved out.

I didn’t respond to any of the messages.

I simply continued living at my own pace.

After all, situations like this were nothing new between us.

Whenever Aria felt the slightest emotional ripple—

fear, restlessness, or even waking up startled by thunder—

she would call James through the mind-link.

And no matter how late it was,

he would immediately throw on a coat

and rush to her territory to comfort her.

I had questioned him, argued with him, pleaded and reasoned—

all useless.

He would always reply with the same cold line:

“A filthy-hearted person sees filth everywhere.”

Every time he left me for Aria, he would return with a house full of moon-roses to soothe me.

And every time, I allowed myself to fall into that false tenderness, pretending nothing had happened.

But this time, I was truly tired.

That night, when I walked out of the Clan Affairs Tower after work, I saw him standing outside.

He wore a dark Alpha ceremonial uniform—broad-shouldered, long-legged, tall and imposing—his presence so commanding that many people turned to look.

Passing werewolves instinctively stepped aside from his aura.

That oppressive force was something only high-tier Alphas possessed.

If it were any other day, I might have walked up to him, urging him softly to get in the car so the clan wouldn’t stare.

But today, I simply wanted to pretend I didn’t see him.

I headed alone toward the Moon-Mark subway station.

It didn’t take long for James to catch up.

He didn’t mention my leaving, didn’t bring up the contract at all—he merely said, lightly:

“Tonight is Vito’s birthday feast. He invited us.”

I stopped walking and looked at him.

“Of course.”

We boarded his vehicle together.

The cabin was silent—so silent that even the faint ripples of the mind-link felt like winter wind, cold and biting.

A breeze slipped through the window seam, carrying the chill of night mixed with a faint jasmine scent.

Aria’s scent.

As an Omega, her natural fragrance was soft, soothing—something that instinctively pleased an Alpha.

It wasn’t overwhelming, just familiar enough to make my chest tighten with cold.

Casually, I asked, “Do you like the smell of jasmine?”

James’s eyes flickered ever so slightly—an involuntary emotional reaction common to Alphas.

“It’s fine,” he said flatly.

“Really?”

I laughed inwardly.

“Then why have you always carried that scent on you for the past few years?”

I didn’t press further.

In wolf-clan customs, scent transfer meant deep emotional closeness.

But he had never once explained it.

We arrived at the Moon-Mark Hotel where we were meeting.

Vito and Aria had clearly been waiting.

When Aria saw James and me appear side by side, she froze for a moment.

“Good evening, James… Blair. We’ve been waiting a while.”

Her voice was soft, tinged with the Omega’s natural gentleness and deference.

I smiled faintly, without warmth, and turned to Vito.

“Apologies. I came in a rush and didn’t prepare a gift.”

Vito had been James and Aria’s childhood companion—

the three of them had grown up together in the same training camp since they were pups.

James had brought me to their clan gatherings back when we first bonded,

which was how I became familiar with them at all.

“I sent one for you,” James said calmly.

Then he guided me toward the seating area.

Two seats were left—directly opposite each other.

Whether the arrangement was intentional or not, I no longer cared.

I released his hand and walked straight to the opposite seat.

James’s expression shifted slightly, but he said nothing.

He simply sat in the empty seat beside Aria.

His choice—guided by territory instincts—felt more like a declaration than etiquette.

I knew what his friends were thinking.

They had never approved of our mate contract,

and had always treated me with a polite, distant frost.

In the past, I had tried to fit into their circle, choosing thoughtful gifts for every holiday.

But those gifts were never used—

the packaging had never even been opened.

They had never considered me one of them.

Thinking back, those symbolic efforts felt laughably naïve.

I said nothing and quietly lowered my head to eat.

The table was lively, filled with fragrances and chatter,

yet I felt as if I were sitting alone on a distant island.

James chatted easily with them,

and while talking, he began peeling the Moon-Bay shrimp on his plate.

According to his habit, he never touched such sea-creature delicacies unless someone else peeled them for him.

Even then, he would only take a symbolic bite—

for a high-tier Alpha, peeling the shells himself was a bothersome task.

But now, he didn’t seem bothered at all.

He peeled the entire plate of shrimp with practiced ease, then pushed the glistening red meat toward Aria.

After that, he slowly picked up the cleansing towel and meticulously wiped his fingertips.

It was the most intimate etiquette an Alpha could offer when tending to an Omega.

And it was something I had never once received.

Seeing this, my chest tightened—just slightly, but enough.

I had already decided to let him go.

But witnessing him treat another with such tenderness…

that kind of pain still surged up uncontrollably, sharp as frostbite.

Vito clearly noticed too.

He glanced at my expression, then at James, nudging him deliberately with a teasing smirk.

“Don’t just take care of one person. Peel some for your mate too.”

James seemed to suddenly remember something.

He lowered his head, looked at the empty plate before me, and said,

“Order another serving.”

“No need,” I said calmly, taking a sip of my drink. “I don’t like shrimp.”

“What about grilled fish?”

“I don’t like the smell.”

James stared at the table, his brows narrowing slightly.

“And the roast moon-chicken?”

“I don’t like that either.”

He froze—clearly not expecting me to refuse so bluntly.

I lifted my gaze and met his eyes, my voice smooth yet edged like a blade.

“Anything you recommend, I don’t like.”

“Blair, are you upset?”

Aria asked softly, her Omega presence timid and fragile.

“Why aren’t you eating what James ordered for you? Please don’t be angry at him.”

Her careful tone made me seem like a bully picking on the weak.

“How could I be angry?” I smiled faintly.

“Please enjoy the meal. I suddenly remembered there’s work I haven’t finished, so I’ll take my leave.”

Maintaining perfect politeness, I picked up my bag and prepared to stand.

“Oh come on,” Vito drawled, voice full of mockery.

“You’re not seriously mad about James setting off fireworks for Aria, right? Such a small thing?”

The moment he brought up that night, Aria immediately lowered her eyes and spoke softly:

“I’m sorry, Blair. I wasn’t feeling well that day… James only wanted to comfort me.

James, you should apologize to her.”

James frowned.

“I only lit a few fireworks. Why should I apologize?”

The moment the words fell, the air around the table froze completely.

And in the angle James couldn’t see,

Aria lifted the corner of her lips ever so slightly.

A small, delicate smile—

the kind of smile only an Omega shows when quietly claiming territory.

As if telling me without a sound:

This Alpha is mine.

How laughable.

Those who commit wrongdoing are often the last to understand their fault.

And just like the countless times before,

James still didn’t see the real issue.

He always believed that if he soothed me with a few empty words,

I would remain silent, patient, obedient—

the compliant mate I had pretended to be.

Instead, I let out a soft laugh and said gently:

“You’re right.

Those moon-flame fireworks really were beautiful.

Next time, don’t forget to make the display even grander.”

My tone was soft—

yet sharp as a silver blade.

Before anyone could react,

the restaurant manager entered carrying several bottles of rare Silvermoon Wine.

“These are the bottles you and Miss Aria stored with us during your last visit.

Shall I open them for you now?”

The entire private room fell utterly silent.

The manager stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do.

So I spared him the embarrassment.

“Open them all,” I said lightly.

“No need to waste anything.”

With those words, I rose and walked out of the room.

James quickly followed, a rare trace of unease in his voice—

something high-tier Alphas almost never revealed.

“Blair, the company sealed a major deal recently.

Those wines were meant for the celebration.”

I waved a hand dismissively, not caring in the slightest,

and walked into the women’s restroom.

When I returned to the private room,

James was shielding Aria from the alcohol.

His hand covered hers around the glass,

blocking the Silvermoon Wine with a natural, practiced motion—

as if he had done it countless times before.

And that scene…

was far too familiar.

Two years ago, at almost the exact same type of banquet—

I, severely allergic to alcohol,

was pressured and taunted by a circle of male werewolves taking turns pushing drinks on me.

And back then, James didn’t stop them.

He didn’t shield me.

Instead, he watched with half-lidded eyes,

wearing the cold indifference and impatience unique to high-ranking Alphas.