My online boyfriend is my university professor and the future werewolf king, Sarek. And me? I’m Mila—just a human hunter’s descendant scraping by in the cracks of an era where species coexist in uneasy peace. What he doesn’t know is that his online girlfriend, whom he wishes to tear apart a thousand times over, is sitting in the very last row of his classroom.

The online relationship was never meant to be real. It started as revenge to get back at him for failing me. But who would’ve thought this werewolf was so starved for affection that he’d fall deeper and deeper in love?

Again and again, he pushed to meet in person. However, if we ever really met face to face, I’d be torn apart and swallowed whole—bones and all. To save my life, I made a split-second decision and broke up with him.

The result? The “abandoned” werewolf king lost his mind. Classes dragged on for three extra hours, and homework increased fivefold.

For the sake of my classmates’ mental and physical health, getting back together… wasn’t entirely impossible. There was only one condition: he could never find out who I really am.

At ten thirty at night, the tiered lecture hall at Saint Chimera University was still brightly lit. The students were starving and furious, yet not a single one dared to complain. The source of their fear, Professor Sarek, the man destined to become the future king of the werewolves, stood at the front of the room.

At that moment, his red eyes were locked onto his phone screen, his expression dark.

On the screen was the last message he had received: [I’m sorry. You’re far too aggressive. I’m afraid of you. Please don’t look for me anymore.]

Next to it was a red exclamation mark, showing that he had been blocked.

“P-Professor…” A beastman freshman shakily raised his hand as he said, “The cafeteria has closed–”

With a bang, a deep crack split the lectern straight down the middle.

“Then starve,” Sarek snapped as he lifted his head.

Under the lights, his golden-brown pupils contracted into dangerous vertical slits. “If this were the battlefield, trash like you who only think about food would’ve been torn apart and used as rations.”

The innocent beastman student felt silent.

I shrank into the very last row, holding a book up to cover my face.

I was guilty. He was waiting for a reply from an online girlfriend whose ID was “Gray Wolfie’s Little Bunny,” and unfortunately for him, that was me. Even more unfortunately, I had blocked him an hour ago, but it had all started three months ago.

My name was Mila, and I was the last descendant of a human hunter family. In this so-called era of species living in harmony, that title was about as useful as a museum relic. Its only real function was ensuring that every non-human student on campus despised me.

To survive, I studied like my life depended on it and fought my way to a full scholarship. Then I met Sarek, my werewolf professor, and he failed my ten-thousand-word paper on recklessness and intellectual shortcomings in werewolf tactics with a bold, blood-red F.

His feedback was, “If you know nothing about the true strength of the werewolves, I suggest you drop out and go home to herd sheep.”

Herd sheep? I’d never even seen a sheep in my life! My ancestors hunted werewolves!

Failing meant losing my scholarship. Losing my scholarship meant I couldn’t pay next semester’s tuition, and that meant getting kicked back into the human slums to wait for my death.

That night, I anonymously posted a thread on the campus forum, asking how I could make a werewolf professor who always picks on me grovel and call me Daddy?

An account called “SuccubusGirl” slid into my DMs.

“Werewolves are arrogant and emotionally starved but loyal. Trick him emotionally. Make him fall in love with you. Then dump him hard. Manipulation hurts more than a silver blade.”

I believed her.

That same night, I registered a burner account with the username “Gray Wolfie’s Little Bunny” and added Sarek’s private academic account.

Don’t ask how I got it. Hunter families had… inherited skills.

My opening message was carefully crafted to sound like an ignorant human girl obsessed with werewolf culture.

[Professor Sarek, I’m sorry to be messaging you at this hour. I just read “Loneliness Under the Full Moon” and was deeply moved. But as someone who would be the future werewolf king, do you ever feel lonely?]

Less than three minutes after I sent it, my phone vibrated.

Sarek: [Loneliness is the fate of the strong. Only the weak huddle together for warmth.]

He had been baited.

I replied immediately. [That’s so cool! I always thought werewolves were just savages, but your thoughts are so profound! I’m just a timid human, but I really want to learn from you!]

Sarek: [Humans have biological limitations. That isn’t your fault. What do you want to learn? I can make an exception and teach you.]

Oh, how arrogant he was.

Over the following days, I flirted with him. We moved from academic discussions to my admiring him.

[Professor, you look so handsome when you’re serious!]

[Studious and polite… You’re exactly my type!]

I thought he’d blush. I thought he’d fall. Instead, his reply nearly made me black out.

“Good, but don’t get distracted. Continue reviewing the cooperative strategies in wolf-pack hunting.”

I was left speechless. I wasn’t here to enroll in an online course!

No one could understand what it was like having to be in his lecture during the day and then going back to the dorm at night to listen to his voice messages explaining his coursework. I thought I was losing my mind.

Then, one month later, a turning point finally came.

That night, I happened to scroll past a photo of a male model, soaked, fresh out of the water. His broad shoulders, narrow waist, clearly defined abs, water droplets sliding down along his V-line, and disappearing into the waistband of his pants… Damn. As a healthy adult woman, I was hungry.

Without thinking, I forwarded it to my best friend with a message attached.

[Feast on this! This is totally your type!]

A few seconds passed with no reply. Then, I noticed something. The chat name wasn’t hers but Sarek’s.

I scrambled to delete the message, but it had been read.

Sarek: [What? I’m not gay. And I don’t eat people.]

I was done for. I typed frantically, explaining that I’d sent it to the wrong person and swearing I had zero interest in that kind of barbaric muscle display.

Sarek replied: [That kind of muscle counts as barbaric? Then what kind of body do you like?]

It was a trick question. If I didn’t answer, I’d look guilty. If I answered wrongly, my persona would crumble.

While I was frozen in indecision, my phone vibrated, and a photo popped up. It was one of Sarek in his bathroom. Steam fogged the mirror, and his chest looked like it had been carved from stone, abs sharply defined, water droplets tracing every line before slipping beneath the edge of a loosely tied towel. The knot was so loose that one tug felt like it would unravel completely.

I stopped breathing. Every shred of reason screamed at me to delete that man—the same man who had failed me. However, my hand had a will of its own, saving the photo.

Objectively speaking, I would eat that werewolf up if I ignored the face.

Sarek: [This is what strength looks like. That male model’s physique is just decoration.]

I wiped my bloody nose, inspiration striking.

[Professor… I’m shy. I’m too afraid to look at your face… From now on, could you just take photos of your body?]

It was the perfect excuse. It concealed the truth—that I disliked his face—and satisfied my own selfish desire to admire the goods.

Sarek was clearly pleased. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a timid little rabbit overwhelmed by male hormones.

He replied: [Coward]

From that point on, everything spiraled out of control as he confessed.

[Be my partner. You can become even more familiar with my body.]

For my grade and for that god-tier physique, I agreed. That was the moment Pandora’s box opened. He didn’t just send photos anymore. When his heat cycle hit, he started calling.

Last Friday night, deep into the night, Sarek sent a voice message—low and breathless.

“Little Bunny… pick up. Help me. I want to hear your voice.”

I shot upright in bed.

How could I help him? I was in a four-person dorm!

If my roommates heard me on a late-night call with the future werewolf king professor making those sounds, I’d be socially ruined by morning. However, refusing a werewolf in heat felt like a tragic waste—this was a prime opportunity for manipulation.

Grinding my teeth, I grabbed my jacket, slipped out, and found the sketchiest motel on the street behind campus. The moment I answered the call, I heard fabric shifting, followed by restrained, heavy breathing.

“Say my name…” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. “Put your hand there… be good.”

I sat on the cheap motel bed, still holding the sausage I’d just bought from the front desk. I meant to half-ass it by eating my late-night snack and getting through the call. However, the sounds coming through the speaker had to be considered illegal.

That was the future werewolf king at the peak of desire. His low growls mixed with static were tempting me over and over again.

My legs went weak.

“Open your mouth… take it,” he ordered.

My face burned, and my gaze drifted against my will to the sausage in my hand.

“Mm…” I bit down.

Juice burst out with a wet, unmistakably suggestive sound.

The breathing on the other end stopped. Sarek’s voice dropped even lower. “Baby, what are you eating? That sounds… wet.”

I was stunned. I wanted to explain it was sausage, but my throat locked, only letting out a distorted whimper.

“N-Nothing…” I gulped in a panic, but somehow, it sounded even worse.

“Good.” He encouraged me again, clearly having misunderstood me. “Just like that… don’t stop. Imagine I’m in front of you…”

D*mn it. I imagined it. I imagined that body from the photos pressing down, that overwhelming strength capable of crushing anything. The sausage in my hand suddenly felt scorching hot, and my breathing broke. It was supposed to be an act, but I dragged myself into it.

Cursing my lack of self-control, my eyes burned as I followed his instructions and let out a real, trembling gasp—one edged with tears.

“Sarek…”

That night, I didn’t just finish the sausage. I nearly lost my soul in that broken-down motel.

Before hanging up, clinging to my last shred of sanity, I sent him a bill.

[Fifty dollars for the room, fifteen dollars for the taxi, and five dollars for the sausage. The total is seventy dollars.]

Three seconds of silence later came a bank transfer of seven thousand dollars with a note stating, “You sounded great. Buy yourself something good to recover. Next time, choose a better motel.”

I stared at my balance, my heart pounding wildly. That money… came at a very real physical price.

I thought this dangerous game could go on forever, until yesterday, when he sent another voice message.

“I want to see you. I want to turn the sounds you make on the phone into something real.”

Meet in person? That would be my death sentence, and even if I dodged it once, what about next time?

I was human, and he was the future werewolf king. My family had once hunted his ancestors. If I were exposed, I wouldn’t just die; I’d die horribly.

No matter how reluctant I was, mostly to part with that body and the money, staying alive mattered more. Hence, I replied.

[I’m sorry. You’re far too aggressive. I’m afraid of you. Please don’t look for me anymore.]

Then, I blocked and deleted his number.

…

On the podium, Sarek stared at the red exclamation mark and lost his temper. He lifted his gaze, his golden-brown eyes sweeping across the classroom, before finally settling on me.

My entire body froze.

“Class dismissed,” he said coldly. “Everyone is to submit a five-thousand-word paper titled ‘The Consequences of Betraying a Werewolf.’ If it’s not on my desk by tomorrow morning, every one of you will fail this course.”

Wails shook the room, and I collapsed back into my seat. This wasn’t an assignment. It was a message sent directly to me.

Since I had the nerve to dump him, I had to suffer the consequences, and now, before he discovers the truth, I have to find a way to survive. Or… I could make him fall back in love with Little Bunny once again.

At eight o’clock on a Tuesday morning, the tiered lecture hall was thick with resentment. There were fifty students in the class. Forty-nine of them had dark circles under their eyes. Those were the marks left by pulling an all-nighter to finish an essay titled ‘The Consequences of Betraying a Werewolf.’

Everyone except me. I had planned to lie down for just a moment before starting. Unfortunately, that “moment” lasted until sunrise. Forget five thousand words, I hadn’t even written five lines.

I slumped over my desk, trying to curl into the smallest shape possible. I was done for. There was no way to make it up now. My only option was to distract him and make him happy.

With that thought, I pulled out my phone and unblocked him. My fingers flew across the screen as I typed my personal get-out-of-death-free card. My thumb hovered over the send button, and my heart pounded like crazy, ready to strike at any second.

Just then, the tapping sound of leather shoes approached. Sarek entered the lecture hall, consumed in fury—one that screamed with severe dissatisfaction. His shirt collar was loose, muscles taut beneath the fabric. After being blocked all night, that werewolf looked like he could kill someone.

“Hand in your assignments.”

He casually tossed his laptop onto the lectern and turned on the projector. However, instead of displaying the lecture slides, the big screen showed Sarek’s private chat.

The entire class froze, and so did I. The contact name at the top read “Luna (Draft),” and worst of all, the chat background was the only image I had ever sent him. It was the photo of my expense receipt from that night.

In the dead silence, everyone stared at the screen filled with red exclamation marks.

[Yesterday 11:30 p.m.: Baby, I was wrong. I won’t be so aggressive anymore. Please talk to me… You like sausage, right? If I buy a sausage shop, will you talk to me again?]

[Today 2:15 a.m.: Baby, I cried all night. My pillow is soaked. If you’re afraid of me, I can wear a bite guard. I’ll be very good… Now, I’m jealous of the me from that night. At least he could hear your voice as he got off. Now I have nothing…]

My mind went blank. Was this the same werewolf king who threatened to tear us apart on the battlefield? No, this was a drenched stray werewolf begging for shelter in the rain.

And about him getting off… Was this even allowed to be projected on the big screen?

However, none of the students laughed. Instead, despair spread through the room, because knowing too much usually meant one thing: death.

A vampire in the front row crossed himself. A witch in the back hurriedly deleted her browser history. Everyone silently drafted their last wills, seriously considering where they’d like to be buried and whether the feng shui would be decent.

Meanwhile, Sarek was completely unaware. With his back to the screen, his sharp gaze locked onto me like a blade.

“Mila. Where’s your assignment?”

My legs went weak as I stood up. “P-Professor…”

“You didn’t do it?” His eyes narrowed. “It seems you’re quite attached to getting F’s.”

He stepped closer, one pace at a time, continuing, “Would you like me to draft your withdrawal application for you?”

The oppressive presence of a top predator crashed down on me.

His shadow swallowed me whole as he looked down. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

At that moment, I secretly hit the send button.

“Ding!”

The notification sound exploded through the silence. Sarek froze and then lowered his head to check his phone. At the same time, everyone’s eyeballs nearly popped out of their sockets.

On the big screen, the little bunny avatar lit up with a new message.

[I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to block you that night. I miss you too. I’ve been thinking of you so much that my legs are weak.”

The coldness around Sarek vanished instantly. The corners of his mouth shot upward before he forcibly suppressed the smile. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

He replied immediately, the eagerness impossible to hide. His reply popped up on the screen.

[Be good. I will call and comfort you after class. Please don’t be mad anymore, baby. I was too aggressive. From now on, I’m yours.]

A dead silence filled the class. No one dared to laugh. It felt like they were witnessing a bloodthirsty Tyrannosaurus suddenly putting on a pink bow and dancing ballet. It was deeply unsettling. After seeing something so private, the lecture hall might very well become our mass grave.

Sarek put away his phone and walked away with noticeably lighter steps.

“Since this is Mila’s first offense, her assignment can be postponed. Sit down.”

I collapsed into my chair, having narrowly escaped death. However, before I could even breathe a sigh of relief, the atmosphere turned unbearably heavy again.

In his good mood, Sarek finally noticed something was wrong. Why did every student look like they were ready to die, and why were they all staring past him?

With that, he turned around sharply.