"Is he coming?" Robert repeated his question.
In the quiet, cold room, only two people occupied the staff lounge of the café—everyone else was busy dealing with the rampaging monsters outside.
"Who is—"
Before Robert could finish, the door was flung open with a loud bang. A man in a black cloak had kicked it wide open.
Robert's eyes widened in shock when he recognized the figure as someone he never wanted to meet again—just as Aamon had warned him.
"You!?" Robert shouted. "What are you doing here!?"
The silhouette of the man infuriated him, but Robert knew him all too well, especially because of the scarf he always wore.
"You're wasting your energy, little wolf," the man said, his voice cool.
The words only made Robert angrier, especially being called "little wolf."
"This has nothing to do with you!" Robert snapped, waving his hands around. "Are these monsters your doing, Blow Chester?!"
The man's name was Blow Chester. The shadows slipped from his face, revealing sharp features, black hair, and piercing black eyes. His face was expressionless, as if carved from porcelain. No smile, no emotion—just an unreadable mask.
"You always assume the worst, Robert," Blow replied, his tone flat.
"How could I not!? Your face alone is suspicious!" Robert shot back.
Blow ignored Robert's angry words and shifted his gaze to Aamon, who was standing across from him. Aamon's expression remained unphased, though his smile was unnervingly calm.
Blow wasn't one to let things slide easily.
"Nameless one," he addressed Aamon.
Aamon gave a small nod, his smile widening slightly. "You can call me Aamon now."
Blow's eyes widened a little in surprise. "So you've finally earned yourself a name, organization's dog."
"You—!"
Robert, now fuming, couldn't stand the insult aimed at Aamon. But Aamon swiftly raised his hand, stopping Robert from lunging at Blow.
Robert could feel the red aura of his anger thickening.
"You came here for me, didn't you?" Aamon asked, his question drawing a slight smirk from Blow.
"As sharp as ever, Aamon—though that name hardly suits you," Blow replied.
Aamon didn't respond. He just smiled, a smile that both Blow and Robert found impossible to read, plunging the room into a tense silence.
Blow cleared his throat, breaking the stalemate. There was no point in standing idle—Aamon wouldn't speak unless it was necessary.
"Yes, I came here to see you. How have you been, my old friend?" Blow asked, though his words and expression didn't match.
Aamon let out a cynical chuckle. "Friend, huh? I haven't heard that in years."
"So, what do you want with me? There's no need to bring up the past," Aamon said, cutting to the point.
"Yeah! You'd better take those monsters and leave, or I'll kill you right here!" Robert shouted, his patience wearing thin. "Just seeing your face reminds me of your crimes!"
Blow didn't seem fazed by Robert's cutting remarks, his attention fully fixed on Aamon.
"You're still the same," Blow muttered under his breath, just loud enough that Robert couldn't make out the words.
"What did he say!?" Robert turned to Aamon for clarification, but Aamon simply shook his head.
Blow glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist. Midnight.
"The monsters are still eager to tear this café apart," Blow said, turning his gaze back to the door he had shut tightly.
Almost on cue, loud thuds echoed from outside the room.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Where's Cath?" Robert asked, his voice sharp as he looked to Aamon, sensing something dark in his aura.
Aamon fixed his gaze on Blow. "Tell me now."
Blow raised an eyebrow, but still no smile touched his lips. "You already know my purpose," he replied.
"I'm not going to say it again. You'll tell me, or I'll change my mind," Aamon warned.
Blow smiled faintly. "Very well. Join the Hunter Organization."
BANG!
The door burst open, and one of the monsters, drawn by curiosity, stood in the doorway. Bright light from the café spilled into the room, revealing the chaos outside.
In a flash, Robert leaped in front of the beast. It was grotesque, its body twisted and unclear, with fangs dripping blood and eyes that gleamed red.
There was no time to waste. Robert, swift as lightning, slashed at the creature's face with his wolf claws.
SRAK!
The sound of tearing flesh filled the air, and blood poured from the monster's face, exposing bone. But it didn't fall—it stood firm.
Robert growled in frustration. He dodged as the monster swiped at him, its claws missing him by a hair. He felt a rush of gratitude for being born a werewolf.
"Suddenly, I'm glad to be a werewolf," he snarled, leaping again.
With a single, powerful swipe, his claws extended into massive, razor-sharp talons, and the creature was sliced in half.
As the monster's body fell lifeless to the ground, silence reclaimed the room. Blow stood by, watching, while Aamon's smile faded. What were they thinking? Robert didn't know.
"What?" Robert asked, irritated by the attention. He was growing more aggravated by Blow's presence.
Ignoring Robert, Blow turned back to Aamon and sighed. "If the organization learns your identity, you'll be protected, along with Cath and Robert. We'll send you food regularly, so you won't have to worry about hunting."
Robert growled again, his dislike for Blow only intensifying. "What the hell are you talking about? Don't you dare look down on us!"
"Robert," Aamon's voice cut in, freezing Robert in place before he could attack Blow.
"What now? Are you going to accept his offer?" Robert asked, anger rising. "You get a name, and suddenly, you're a different person!"
Aamon didn't answer.
"Why won't you say anything?!" Robert pressed, his frustration boiling over. "You're not the same!"
"Robert. I told you to be quiet," Aamon said coldly, forcing Robert to grit his teeth in frustration.
"Is there anything else you want to say?" Aamon asked Blow.
Blow smiled faintly. "Like I said before, I'm offering you a place in the organization. You and your loved ones will benefit greatly from joining the Hunter Organization."
Robert wanted nothing more than to punch Blow in the back, but Aamon's watchful eyes stopped him.
"So, accept my offer and become one of the strongest members of the Hunter Organization," Blow proposed.
"Hah!" Robert scoffed. "You want him to become the organization's lapdog?!"
"I'm not talking to you."
The chilling aura radiating from Blow made Robert's hair stand on end. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.
"So, what's your answer?" Blow asked, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a serious threat.
For a moment, the temptation hung in the air, especially in a time of economic crisis. But Aamon's sharp smile cut through the tension.
It was a smile that froze everyone in place, his eyes gleaming dangerously. His fangs were visible—sharp and menacing.
A few silent seconds passed before Aamon responded to the offer that had Robert fuming.