The moment I inscribed my name into the registry for the National Moon-Ink Rite Trial, strange text began scrolling across my vision:

[Here it comes! The idealized love ex-intended returns from the distant territories, steals the Alpha Heir's ritual sigils, gets exposed and humiliated, reputation destroyed!]

[Sure, the Beta Matron and her ex-intended were childhood packmates, but they haven't crossed paths in seven or eight cycles. No way that competes with a pair who's been running together day and night!]

[Idealized love? Please. Kael Nightforge is just a rejected villain. Stop hyping him up.]

A young male approached me—dressed in the same humble style I used to favor during my training years.

"Greetings. I'm Darian Ashfen from the neighboring pack's delegation. I've heard you're an incredible rune-scribe. Always wanted to meet you. Never expected we'd cross paths at the same rite trial."

I gave him a cool nod, catching something sharp beneath his mild scent.

After the Council Adjudicators announced the results, Darian grabbed my arm, his eyes rimmed red with what looked like genuine distress.

"You switched our ritual sigils, didn't you? Using such dirty tricks to claim victory—doesn't that eat at your wolf-heart?"

Selene Crownhollow, one of the Council Adjudicators, appeared beside him. Her brow furrowed so deeply you could've crushed a fly between her eyebrows.

"Go to the Elder Council and withdraw yourself. You have no right to advance to the final rite!"

Contemptuous stares bore into me from all directions, the scent of their disdain thick in the air. I turned and pointed at the worst piece of moon-ink work hanging on the ceremonial wall.

"Win what, exactly? I came in dead last. I couldn't advance if I wanted to."

The omen-feed went wild: [Wait wait wait—what in the moon's name is happening?!]

——

Darian's jaw dropped. "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of rune-scribing prodigy? There's no way that chicken scratch is yours!"

Selene—who had pretended not to recognize my scent during registration—suddenly seized my wrist with surprising strength.

"Kael Nightforge! You've been studying territorial arts since you were a pup. You spent seven or eight cycles training in the distant mountain holds. How could you possibly be last?!"

I was momentarily speechless.

If she recognized me, then she should know.

I've always studied realism rune-craft and territory mapping—not traditional moon-ink sigils.

I only entered this rite trial because my parents mentioned Selene was one of the Council Adjudicators. They specifically asked me to give her a nice surprise.

I registered on a whim. Never intended to place.

Then those strange omens appeared and threw me completely off balance.

Darian wiped his tears dramatically. "You're obviously a repeat offender. All those honors you've won—you stole them too, didn't you? We grew up in neighboring territories. I can't just stand by and watch you keep making mistakes!"

I couldn't make sense of his rapid-fire accusations.

When had I ever stolen anyone's work?

And as for Selene and me "growing up together"—

Our fathers' packs had formed alliance pacts a few times. We'd met maybe three or four occasions at formal gatherings, the last one seven or eight cycles ago.

How did that qualify as growing up together?

The omen-feed calling me her "ex-intended"? That was just pups playing at courtship. Selene and I had never actually been promised to each other.

Yet she'd already pronounced me guilty.

"Withdraw from the rite trial quietly. Hold a public howl and return all the glory that doesn't belong to you." Her grip tightened, claws threatening to emerge. "Otherwise, don't force me to break off our intended mate-claim!"

She was surprisingly strong. She'd dragged me several steps before I could even think to resist.

I frowned. "Intended mate-claim?"

My parents had never mentioned any arranged bonding. They'd always supported me finding my true mate on my own.

What was she talking about?

My genuine confusion must have looked like fear to her.

Disdain flickered in her amber eyes. "If my parents hadn't insisted I get close to you, I wouldn't have spared you a second glance!"

Darian let tears roll down his cheeks, playing the gracious victim.

"If he won't admit it, just let it go. It's only a rite trial. There's always next cycle."

Before I could reiterate that I really did come in last—that I hadn't pulled any tricks—

Selene rushed to shield him, her protective stance unmistakable.

"You come from nothing, Darian! You were counting on winning first place to pay your tribute to the Academy! By next cycle, you'll have been cast out of the pack territories!"

She bit her lip, her face twisted into a mask of anguished sympathy.

"You're just too strong for your own good. I've told you a hundred times—I can help you. With resources, with pack connections, with anything you need." Her voice trembled with admiration. "But you insist on doing everything yourself." She shook her head slowly. "You're nothing like those pampered Alpha heirs who've had territory and tribute handed to them since birth..."

The Howl-Net chatter exploded across the scrying mirrors:

【Can the former intended mate seriously not tell the female lead is throwing shade at him?! Just forfeit the rite already and give first standing back to our precious male lead!】

【The female lead only offered tribute for this whole Moon-ink rite so she could sit on the adjudicator council—all for the male lead's sake!】

【Doesn't matter how much he lies. Once they pull the scrying mirror records, his "pure moonlight" image is going straight into the gutter!】

【The male lead comes from such a struggling pack and has to hunt his way through the Academy. He's been through so much hardship!】

I stared at Darian.

At the moonstone-encrusted claw-ring on his finger, worth at least a hundred thousand in pack currency. The shadow-silk coat draped across his shoulders, easily eighty thousand. The drake-leather boots on his feet, another six thousand at minimum.

My brow furrowed.

Struggling pack?

Hunting his way through the Academy?

Were we talking about the same wolf?

He was dressed more like old bloodline nobility than I was—and I was the actual Alpha Heir here.

Anyone who'd ever worked with Moon-ink knew how easy it was to get the sacred pigments everywhere. That's why most rune-scribes wore cheap, stain-resistant pelts to work in.

But Darian...

I watched the comments continue to gush over his "admirable dedication" and "humble circumstances."

I had no words.

Before I could even respond, tears began streaming down Darian's face.

"I know you're some wealthy Alpha Heir who doesn't care about tribute prizes this small," he choked out. "But for me, this rite standing represents an entire cycle's worth of Academy fees. I need this tribute. I can't survive without it."

His eyes were red-rimmed, glistening with moisture. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees before me.

Thud.

The sound echoed through the council hall like a death knell.

"I know you swapped the ritual sigils because you wanted first standing. Fine—I'll give you the title. You can have the rite championship." His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "But please, can you at least give me back the tribute prize?" He bowed his head lower. "If you want me to ghost-scribe for you in the future, just ask. You don't have to steal my work."

Selene rushed forward, cradling him protectively against her chest. "A wolf's knees are sacred to the pack! You're the victim here—why should you kneel to him?!"

If I agreed with anything Darian said, I'd be confessing on the spot.

I kept my voice level, letting no growl slip through. "As far as I know, Academy fees are twelve thousand in tribute per cycle. You could sell any single item you're wearing and cover that several times over." I paused, letting my gaze sweep meaningfully over his expensive attire. "And for the record—I have zero interest in winning a traditional Moon-ink rite. Why would I swap anyone's work?"

Darian's expression flickered, freezing for just a moment. His scent spiked with something sharp—fear, perhaps, or calculation. Then he turned to Selene, wounded and helpless as a kicked pup.

"These things aren't mine. They're gifts—from wolves who care about me. They have sentimental value." His voice rose with desperate conviction. "I could starve through three winters before I'd ever sell someone's heartfelt gesture for tribute." He pressed a hand to his chest. "All I want is to earn my way through my craft. Through my own two claws."

"I'm not trying to steal the rite championship from you. I'm begging you—just give me back the tribute prize."

His voice was raw, shredded, barely a rasp.

Selene's eyes shimmered with emotion, her hand stroking his hair. "You sweet, foolish pup..."

The other rite contestants closed in around us, accusations flying like snapping jaws:

"Darian is literally kneeling and begging you. What more do you want?"

"I can't stand these privileged Alpha parasites—thinking bloodline means they can steal other wolves' work."

"Making him return the tribute prize isn't enough. His rite entry needs to be voided entirely!"

The Pack-Echo omens erupted in righteous fury across every scrying mirror:

【Can this piece of trash just DROP DEAD?! He's forcing our precious male lead to KNEEL. I'm howling in grief, our poor baby male lead!】

【Thank the Moon Mother the female lead will expose him for swapping the ritual sigils and give the championship back to the male lead!】

【The best part comes later—the female lead never forgets how the male lead was humiliated. She pretends to pursue the former intended mate, then rejects the mating bond AT THE CEREMONY on their claiming day! The supporting male's whole pack is disgraced, their territory holdings collapse! The female lead claims their hunting grounds and drives his accomplice parents into such ruin they throw themselves from the mountain cliffs!】

I stared at that last omen.

My vision went red at the edges, wolf surging beneath my skin.

The Pack-Echo omens shrieked:

【WAIT—can he actually SEE these?!】

I wrenched my gaze away, forcing my claws to retract, pretending I hadn't seen a thing.

The omen-feed settled when I showed no reaction:

[There's no way a side character can perceive the pack-echoes. The one above must be moon-touched.]

[He's merely a stepping stone for the destined pair. His entire bloodline deserves extinction!]

Fury burned through my veins like liquid silver.

I had never harmed another wolf in my existence. So why should I clear the path for Selene Crownhollow and Darian Ashfen's fated bond?

Why should I be framed until my pack's territory holdings crumble and my parents throw themselves from the mountain cliffs?

The gathered wolves helped Darian to his feet, all howling for me to face judgment for stealing another's sacred work.

Selene went straight for the kill, summoning the Rite Arbiters: "I demand a formal grievance be heard! Someone tampered with the ritual sigils and stole another contestant's achievement!"

Darian hung his head in wounded submission, the very image of an innocent omega wronged.

The Council Adjudicators' expressions turned grave.

"The entire inscription process was conducted under scrying mirror surveillance," one of them said. "It would be impossible for anyone to have swapped the works."

Darian's eyes glistened as he lifted his head, glaring at the long-haired female adjudicator at the front. "Elder Duskthorn, you're allies with Kael Nightforge's mother. Of course you'd side with him. But none of us even named the culprit, and you're already rushing to shield him. Don't you think that oversteps your authority?"

Selene piled on, her voice cold as winter frost: "Elder Duskthorn, I offered five million in tribute to this rite. Not so I could watch you play favorites and manipulate outcomes from the shadows. My prize allocation needs to go to someone who actually earned it through honor."

The other contestants joined the chorus:

"So the adjudicator is allied with Kael Nightforge's mother? No wonder he had opportunity to swap the ritual marks!"

"What a dishonorable scheme. And he calls himself Alpha-born? More like a parasite feeding off common wolves!"

Darian fixed Elara Duskthorn with a stubborn stare. "I demand a review of all rite entries! And I demand that Elder Duskthorn—who's clearly protecting him—step down immediately!"

Elara remained silent. I spoke before she could.

"On what grounds are you demanding a review?" My voice cut through the noise. "On what grounds are you demanding Elder Duskthorn step down?"

"Based on nothing but your baseless accusations? Do you have any idea how much burden you'd be placing on the Academy servants?"

"You keep speaking of being some poor rogue who suffered hardship, but you don't hesitate to make life miserable for wolves who actually serve this institution."

"Yes, Elder Duskthorn is my mother's ally. But she hasn't done a single thing to shield me. If you want her removed, you'd better present actual evidence."

I could tolerate Darian slandering me—after all, it was nothing but speculation.

But dragging an innocent wolf like Elara into this? That was unforgivable.

Her bonded mate, Rowan Duskthorn, suffered from a failing wolf-heart. He survived only through constant healer rites and costly moonstone treatments.

She'd refused my mother's offer to help cover the healing costs, insisting she'd handle the thousands in monthly treatment fees herself.

That was why she treasured every position, every additional duty. She never complained. Never sought pity.

I wasn't about to let Darian destroy her.

The moment I defended her, Selene let out a mocking laugh. "Touched a nerve, did we?"

"What's wrong—afraid we'll find proof of your little sigil swap once we investigate deeper?"

Darian clenched his fists, his expression twisting as though he'd finally reached his breaking point.

"All I wanted was for you to return the prize so I could pay my rite fees and remain at the Academy. That's all. But you've pushed me too far. Now you must face consequences."

He pulled out a small howling stone and activated its connection to the Elder Arbitration Council.

"I'm filing a formal grievance. Kael Nightforge colluded with Adjudicator Elara Duskthorn during the sacred rite to swap my work and steal first ranking in the preliminaries. I demand her immediate removal and the return of what's rightfully mine!"

The other young wolves erupted in howls, eager to witness my downfall.

The pack-echo omens exploded:

[This is peak storytelling! The destined one is so powerful!]

[Finally made the call! The Elder Council is sending investigators!]

[The side character's about to be ruined!]