Taming The Wolf

Chapter 1

There are many things in this world that people can easily reach for - wealth, happiness, love, and even power. But for Reverie, it was different. She was never able to grasp even a single one of those things. No matter how much she struggled or how hard she worked, the world seemed determined to deny her even the simplest form of peace.

She worked tirelessly just to survive in the cruel world she was born into. She worked odd jobs, skipped meals, and sacrificed sleep. But no matter how much effort she poured into everything, fate always found a way to pull her down.

"what's this nonsense about you not having any money?" her stepmother sneered at her, her face twisted into a mocking grin.

Reverie had just arrived home, exhausted from a long day, only to find her stepmother rummaging through her cabinet. In the woman's hand was her wallet - containing all of her savings.

"Give that back, Tita," Reverie said in a calm yet firm voice as she reached out for the wallet. "I still need to pay for my tuition fee."

But her stepmother quickly pulled the wallet away from her grasp and narrowed her eyes.

"Tuition fee? What tuition fee are you talking about? Your stepbrother will be the one attending school, not you," she spat before stuffing the wallet into her pocket. She stepped closer and rudely shoved Reverie aside. "You're blocking the doorway."

Reverie clenched her fists tightly, her whole body trembling with anger. She had endured so much from this woman - countless insults, shameless theft of her money, and endless belittling. She had held it all in for years, convincing herself that it wasn't worth fighting over. But now... her patience was wearing dangerously thin.

Without thinking, she followed her stepmother to the living room where the woman was already counting her stolen money. The audacity of this woman knew no bounds.

"Aunt! Give that back to me! You keep calling me worthless, but you have no shame stealing my hard-earned money to spoil your own child!" Reverie yelled, grabbing for the wallet and engaging in a tug-of-war.

Her stepmother's face darkened with fury. "You ungrateful brat! You live in this house for free and you have the nerve to act like this?!"

"What do you mean I don't contribute?! I pay for the electricity, the water, even the rice we eat! And you?! All you ever do is act like some lazy socialite, lying in bed all day while I break my back trying to keep us afloat!" Reverie screamed, yanking the wallet harder, determined to reclaim what was hers.

"You insolent girl!" The woman raised her hand, intending to slap Reverie, but this time, Reverie caught her wrist mid-air. Without a second thought, she pushed her stepmother with enough force to make the woman fall back onto the sofa.

For a moment, everything went silent. Reverie stood her ground, staring down at her stepmother, whose face twisted in shock. For the first time, Reverie had fought back.

But the moment of victory was short-lived.

A harsh slap landed on her cheek, so powerful it knocked her to the floor. A numbing pain spread across her face, and for a few seconds, everything spun. Reverie held her cheek, feeling the sting as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

When she looked up, it was her father standing there - his face twisted in anger.

"You ungrateful child! Have you forgotten that it was me who took you into this house? You better fix that attitude of yours!" he shouted at her, his voice like a whip against her already wounded spirit.

Instead of breaking down in tears like she usually would, anger surged within Reverie, hot and unstoppable. She rose to her feet and met his glare with her own.

"Did I ever ask you to take me in? Who told you to bring me here? Lola didn't want to give me to you because she knew you were worthless! And she was right! You're nothing but a useless father!" she shouted back, her voice breaking with fury and pain. She didn't wait for a response. Reverie stormed into her room and started packing her belongings. There was nothing for her here.

Within minutes, she was out of her room, bag slung over her shoulder. The two people she despised most were still in the living room, glaring at her.

"Get out of here if you want! You're useless, anyway!" her father yelled again, his words venomous.

"Tsk." Reverie clicked her tongue and pushed past them, ignoring the hateful stares. She didn't need them. She never did.

She walked fast, barely paying attention to the people she passed. Some gave her pitying glances, while others whispered behind their hands. She sighed and boarded a jeepney without even knowing where she was headed. It didn't matter. There was nowhere for her to go anyway.

Time passed quickly. It wasn't until she realized she was the only passenger left that she snapped out of her thoughts.

"Where are you getting off, miss?" the driver asked, peering at her through the rearview mirror.

She glanced around, unfamiliar with her surroundings, but it didn't matter.

"I'll get off here," she said quietly and stepped out, handing her fare to the driver.

She found herself in front of a church. Perhaps it was fate - or maybe just coincidence. Either way, she walked inside, her steps heavy and weak. She sat at the nearest pew, her body sagging as exhaustion and hopelessness consumed her.

She was completely alone now. She didn't know where she would sleep tonight. Maybe on a park bench or, if the church would allow, somewhere within its grounds.

She tilted her head back to keep her tears from falling.

"You're a strong woman, Reverie," she whispered to herself. "This is just another trial. You can get through this. You always do."

When she felt a little calmer, she knelt down and began to pray. She asked for strength, for courage, and for a little bit of luck - something she was always denied. And just as she was about to finish her prayer, her cellphone buzzed.

"What now?" she muttered, fishing out her phone. It was a notification from the web novel she had been reading. With nothing else to do and nowhere to go, she opened it and began to read.

She lost track of time, completely absorbed in the story. But as usual, her blood boiled in frustration when her favorite villainous character died an unjust death.

"Tsk. If I were in that world, I wouldn't let this happen," she grumbled to herself, shutting off her phone. She stood up, grabbed her bag, and left the church.

Her heart was heavy - problems stacked upon problems, and now even the story she'd found escape in had betrayed her. Still, despite the way it pissed her off, she kept following the novel's updates. Sometimes, she wondered if there was something wrong with her.

"Miss! Watch out!" a voice shouted.

She turned toward the voice, and her whole body froze when she saw the massive truck hurtling toward her. In that split second, it was as if time slowed down. She couldn't move, couldn't scream. And then - darkness.

She felt herself fly, her body crashing painfully onto the road. Voices screamed around her.

"Call an ambulance!"

"Someone's been hit!"

"The brakes failed!"

"Hurry up, she's still breathing!"

Sounds grew distant, her vision blurring into nothing. Her eyelids grew heavier, and finally, everything went black.

.

.

.

"Lola, who is he?" a trembling little girl asked her grandmother.

"That's your father, Querencia," the old woman replied quietly.

The child kept her head down. She knew this man. He was the one in her dreams - the one who would bring her nothing but misery.

"Come now, Querencia," the man said, extending his hand with a fake smile.

She shook her head repeatedly. "I don't want to go with you."

The man's smile twisted into something terrifying. "But you have no choice." He grabbed her roughly and pulled her away from her grandmother.

The child screamed and cried, calling out for her grandmother. "Lola! Lola! Lola!!!

"Lola!" Querencia gasped as she jolted awake.

Her head throbbed, and sweat clung to her skin. She took a deep breath and sighed. It was that dream again.

It felt bizarre, but she remembered her past life - her old name, her death. And she knew now... she was in the world of the very novel she used to read.

"Milady, the Baron is summoning you," a maid called from outside the door.

Querencia sat up and spoke. "Come in."

The maid entered, her head bowed low.

"What does the Baron want?" she asked.

The maid hesitated before answering. "I-I heard... it's about the Crown Prince, milady. But I'm not certain!"

Querencia sighed. "Fine. You may go. And send for Marina as well."

The maid nodded and left.

Querencia stood from her bed and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"The Crown Prince..." she muttered.

It seemed the story was finally beginning. But she wouldn't let it unfold the way it did in the novel. This was her life now. And she would make sure her fate would be different.

She needed power. She needed protection. And there was only one man in this world who could give her that - the most dangerous, untouchable, and feared figure in the empire.

The Archduke Castriel de Wolreign.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 2

The Villainess Makes Her Move

Querencia walked through the long, dimly lit corridor of the Baron's estate, her footsteps light but purposeful. She paused before a large mahogany door, took a steadying breath, and pushed it open. The scent of old books, cigar smoke, and expensive liquor greeted her. Seated at the grand desk was Baron Loretta, her father by blood, though not by heart.

The Baron's sharp, disapproving gaze shot to her the moment she stepped inside. His dark eyes narrowed, and his fingers laced together atop the polished desk.

"Well, it's about time you learned to listen," he sneered, his voice laced with disdain.

Querencia met his stare without a hint of fear, her lips curling into a sarcastic smirk. "You should be thankful my ears haven't gone deaf from the constant shouting in this house," she shot back, her tone mocking.

The Baron's eyes widened in fury. Without warning, he snatched the heavy ashtray on his desk and hurled it toward her. Querencia's reflexes, sharpened by years of surviving this man's temper, kicked in. She sidestepped effortlessly, the ashtray shattering against the wall behind her.

"Luck won't always be on your side, Querencia!" the Baron bellowed, slamming his fist onto the desk. "Next time, you'll leave this room with a hole in your head!"

Querencia couldn't help the soft, dark chuckle that escaped her lips at the sight of his red, furious face. "Careful, Baron. You'll give yourself high blood pressure," she taunted before spinning on her heel and striding out of the room.

As she stepped into the hallway, her loyal maid Marina was already waiting for her. Querencia gestured toward her with a smirk. "Marina, prepare the carriage and lay out the dress I'll wear for the celebration tonight. It's about time I entertained my dear father," she said with a wicked grin.

"Yes, Binibini," Marina replied, bowing slightly before hurrying off to relay the orders.

Falling into step beside Querencia, Marina couldn't help but comment with a sigh, "It seems you've angered the Baron again."

"Not nearly enough," Querencia replied without missing a beat.

If not for the unfortunate blood that tied them, she might have admired the Baron's cunning. But knowing the depths of his cruelty and the life he'd stolen from her mother, Querencia couldn't muster even an ounce of respect for him. He was a man who believed power justified all sins - and Querencia had long vowed she would never be like him. Or fall under his control.

"Will you be meeting the Crown Prince tonight, Binibini?" Marina asked hesitantly, her voice low.

Querencia laughed at that, a cold, mocking sound. "The Crown Prince would be lucky to have a moment of my attention. That man's the reason for my inevitable death in this cursed story - and I'm supposed to go chasing after him? What do you take me for? A fool?"

Marina offered a nervous smile but said nothing. She'd learned it was wiser to stay silent when her mistress was in such a mood.

The Celebration at the Palace

Night fell swiftly, and soon Querencia was dressed and seated inside her ornate carriage, en route to the grand ball hosted at the royal palace. The cobblestone streets blurred past, lantern light flickering against the windows.

Upon her arrival, the air thickened with the buzzing hum of gossip.

"There she is - the Baron's infamous daughter."

"Querencia Loretta Lynn? Isn't she the one the Baron protects like some prized jewel? I heard he's desperate to marry her off to the Crown Prince."

"They say she's insufferable. Proud and wicked."

"Oh, terribly cruel, that one."

Every word reached her ears, though spoken in supposed secrecy. It made Querencia's lips twitch into an amused, mocking smile. Part of her wanted to walk right into their little huddle, correct their pathetic assumptions, and watch them choke on their words. But tonight, she had bigger plans.

The grand ballroom shimmered with chandeliers and velvet drapes, the air thick with the scent of wine, perfume, and ambition. Nobles spun on the polished marble floors to the sound of a string quartet. And there - near the far side of the room - was her target.

Tall, with pale silver hair and eyes like storm clouds, Archduke Castriel de Wolreign stood apart from the crowd, wine glass in hand, watching the festivities with the bored detachment of a predator in a room of sheep.

Querencia's lips curled.

But before she could move toward him, an unfamiliar voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Delighted to see you, Lady Lynn," a portly, middle-aged noble greeted with a smile too wide to be genuine.

Querencia turned, her face polite but distant. She didn't recognize him, nor did she care to. "The pleasure is mine," she replied smoothly, offering the barest of courtesies.

Without invitation, the man's hand slid to her shoulder in a gesture far too familiar. Her skin crawled.

Disgust rising in her throat, Querencia's polite mask slipped. She straightened, her gaze sharpening like a blade. "It seems your hand has a mind of its own, sir," she said icily.

Before the man could stammer a reply, she grabbed his wrist, twisted it sharply, and heard the satisfying crack of strained joints.

"A-argh!" the man yelped, drawing startled glances from nearby guests.

"You wear those pretty rings to make your hands look noble, but no amount of gold will hide your filth," she spat, releasing him with a shove.

She calmly drew a handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her palm as if to remove his lingering touch, and dipped into a shallow curtsey. "Excuse me."

As she turned away, the stunned man clutched his hand, too shocked to speak.

Tsk. Old fool, she thought.

Querencia scanned the room once more, but the brief distraction had cost her - the Archduke was no longer where he'd been.

Where did that damn man go?

She spun around in frustration, only to overhear the tail end of a conversation.

"Yes, Your Grace. As you wish."

She followed the voice just in time to spot the Archduke dismissing a subordinate. His back was to her, but Querencia's heart leapt. Without hesitation, she crossed the floor and stopped before him.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she greeted, offering a dazzling smile and extending her hand.

Too late, she realized she'd held her hand a little too low - dangerously close to the man's waist.

Oh hell.

Querencia's face flushed crimson as she quickly lifted her hand higher, internally cursing her nerves. If the Archduke were of a dirtier mind, he might think she was greeting... other parts of him.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his gaze.

Shyt, he's tall.

The man was a walking work of art - sharp jawline, cold, elegant features, and eyes like a storm about to break. Even standing in front of him felt like standing at the mouth of a lion's den.

"Your Grace," she pressed on, regaining her composure. "May I have this dance?"

For a long, excruciating moment, he said nothing, his gaze pinned to her face. It felt like being weighed, measured, and judged all at once. Querencia held her ground.

And then, without a word, Castriel de Wolreign turned away.

He placed his wine glass on a passing tray and walked off, leaving her standing there, hand still outstretched, heart pounding in her chest.

W-what the hell?!

Around her, conversations stalled. Curious eyes locked onto the spectacle she'd just made of herself. The buzzing whispers resumed, now aimed entirely at her.

Querencia clenched her fists, her expression darkening.

"They didn't call me a villainess for nothing, Archduke," she muttered under her breath, a sharp smile slicing across her face. "You better be ready. I'm not done with you yet."

And with that, she tossed her head back and laughed - a rich, defiant sound that made even the most self-righteous nobles flinch.

From across the room, Castriel shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Crazy woman," he murmured to himself before vanishing into the crowd.

But Querencia wasn't bothered. This was just the opening act. And in her story, she refused to be anyone's victim.

Not this time.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 3

Querencia was forcibly made to kneel on the floor by her father, while two guards held her tightly in place to keep her from moving.

"Ha! Querencia! Do you have any idea of the disgrace you brought upon me?! You broke Marques Carton's arm! And you even approached the Archduke! Have you no shame?!" he scolded her, and to make sure she couldn't answer back, he covered her mouth.

"My patience with you is running out, Querencia." He grabbed her chin and squeezed it tightly, making her wince in pain. "You should be approaching the Crown Prince - he's your fiancé. He can help our family. We both stand to gain something here, so act properly. Don't turn your back on him like you did yesterday." He released her chin with a flick, making her head snap to the side.

Tsk. The audacity of this man to hit me.

Since only her arms were restrained, she lifted both hands and flashed her middle finger at him.

Then, she hummed the F-word under her breath.

Her father slapped her hard across the face for that.

"You should learn to be useful. Don't forget - I'm the one who put you in that position," he threatened. To others, it might have sounded like he was giving fatherly advice, but she knew better. There was a darker meaning behind his words.

"Take her away," he ordered the guards, and they immediately obeyed.

They pulled her up and removed the gag from her mouth. But before they could drag her out, she shouted - which only made her father angrier.

"Only fools follow you! B*stard! HAHAHA!" she screamed and burst out laughing.

The guards hurriedly dragged her out and shoved her, making her fall to the ground. Marina quickly rushed to her side.

"I already called for a doctor. Come, my lady," Marina said, helping her up.

"Ugh. My leg hurts," she complained.

Marina sighed. "Why don't you just obey the Baron's orders, my lady?"

Querencia gave a bitter smile. "If I obey him, I'll get beaten. And if I marry the man he wants, I might as well be dead," she answered meaningfully.

Marina's expression darkened. "Do you want me to help you escape?" she asked.

Querencia turned to her. "Can you really do that?" she challenged.

"Is your cheek okay, my lady?" Marina asked.

They were now in a house deep inside a dense forest. Marina had brought her there. At first, Querencia thought she was joking or just testing her, but apparently, she was serious.

"I'm fine," she lied. The truth was she wanted to cry. It hurt so much. If someone would offer to swap her a tougher cheek, she'd buy it in a heartbeat - but no one would, so there was nothing she could do.

"I gathered some herbal medicine," Marina said, grinding the herbs. "This should help you heal quickly without leaving a scar," she added with a smile.

Marina applied the medicine to her swollen cheek. It healed quickly, and Querencia couldn't help but stare at her in awe.

"Wow! Where did you get this, Marina?" she asked excitedly.

Marina hesitated. She seemed reluctant to answer, but after seeing Querencia's pleading expression, she gave in.

"Uhm... from the lake we passed by earlier," she confessed, looking down.

Querencia's eyes widened. The lake with those Astils?

"You mean the Astil's lake?" she asked, and Marina nodded.

No wonder the medicine worked so fast. Astils were monstrous creatures resembling orcs. They were huge, and if anyone took plants from their territory, they'd go berserk. They could smell the scent from miles away.

"We're screwed, Marina. We have to run while we still can!" Querencia stood up and grabbed Marina's hand. "We're leaving now."

"W-wait, my lady!" Marina pulled away to grab their bag. But there was no more time. Querencia could already hear the heavy footsteps - no, Astils. There were too many of them.

"Just grab the money, Marina!" she shouted, and Marina quickly did so.

Once she had it, they bolted in one direction, not even knowing where they'd end up.

"KRAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Querencia flinched as an Astil roared. Trees flew as the monster charged, forcing her and Marina to dodge wildly.

"KRAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The ground shook, and when Querencia looked back, an Astil was right behind her, smoke flaring from its nostrils as it glared at her.

It raised its club to strike - but she quickly dodged.

"My lady!" Marina called from a distance.

Querencia ran as fast as she could, but it wasn't easy with thick shrubs and trees blocking her way.

"My lady!" Marina shouted again, but Querencia didn't have time to look back.

She just ran and ran.

She stopped when a massive fallen tree blocked her path. She'd have to climb over it.

She rolled up her pants and started climbing.

She scrambled faster, the Astil too close behind.

Once she reached the top, her shadow suddenly disappeared.

Querencia turned around. The Astil's club was already in mid-air, about to strike.

"My lady!"

Without hesitation, she jumped from the tree, knowing full well she'd break her bones.

"AAAAAHHHH!" Marina screamed as the Astil's club smashed into the wood.

Querencia squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact.

But instead of hitting the ground, she landed in someone's arms - a solid, muscular body. An arm wrapped tightly around her waist. It couldn't be Marina; this person was much taller. It felt like... a man.

"Bin-" Marina's shout was cut off as the man carrying Querencia suddenly leapt high into the air with her in his arms.

"AAAAAAAHHHH! Marina!!!" Querencia screamed as Marina's figure grew smaller and smaller in her view.

Mom!!! What the hell?! They were flying?! No - the man just jumped!

Querencia's eyes widened as she spotted the Astil's body far below. The man landed squarely on its head, but everything happened too fast for her to see his face.

"Ahhhhh!!!" she screamed again when he jumped once more. She clung to his hair in terror. "Why are you jumping again?!" she yelled, gripping his hair tighter, making him curse.

After a few moments, he finally landed on solid ground. Querencia breathed a sigh of relief.

"F*ck it! Let go of my hair!" the man snapped, making Querencia flinch and let go.

She finally looked up to see the man who had given her a wild rollercoaster ride - and her mouth fell open.

"A-a-ar..." she was too stunned to speak.

"You can get down now," he said curtly. She quickly moved as if to get down, but then remembered her plan. She needed to seduce him.

She swiftly hugged the Archduke and acted weak. "I-I feel dizzy, Your Excellency," she murmured, pressing her face against his neck.

Damn! He smells good! But why is his outfit so hard?

A yawn escaped her. She was exhausted.

Even though his uniform was stiff, she rested her head against him and closed her eyes.

"Your Excellency-" a soldier halted mid-sentence upon seeing them in that position.

Castriel sighed. "Get a carriage for the ladies," he ordered, then turned to the maid. "Are you her maid?" he asked.

"Yes, Your Excellency. I'm Marina, Lady Querencia's servant," she replied respectfully.

He looked down at the girl clinging to him.

So this is the Lady of Lynn. The woman who acts without thinking.

"Uhm... urgh," Querencia groaned in her sleep, making him pause. She didn't seem comfortable. He adjusted his hold and only now realized how light she was.

Is it because of his strength - or is she really this light?

"Forgive the trouble, Your Excellency," the maid apologized, and he just gave a nod.

He wanted to ask what they were doing in a place like this, but he'd save that for later. He'd question the Baron's daughter himself.

"Your Excellency. This way," a soldier said, and he started walking.

"Follow me," he commanded the maid, and she quickly followed.

When they reached the carriage, Castriel went in first and laid Querencia down. But suddenly, she pulled him close and without warning, bit and sucked on his neck.

He froze in shock, only regaining his senses when she let go.

"Steak... not yum..." she muttered, frowning in her sleep before dozing off again.

He was left speechless. Did she just... think he was steak? And insult his flavor?!

Castriel rubbed his forehead.

How can a woman be this bold? Tsk.

To Be Continued...