Chapter 15: The Secret Behind the Trial List and the “Wolf King Project”
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Raccoon was chasing chickens across the courtyard. Firewood was nodding off with a root in his mouth by the cooking pot. And the little wolf pup—eyes squinting seriously—was poring over a document.
“Boss,” he called, “there’s something fishy about this new trial list.”
I rolled over, draping my coat across my shoulders like a cape. “What’s fishy isn’t the list. It’s the person who sent it.”
“Talk.”
He handed me the paper. “Normally, each trial batch has 20 candidates. This one has 28. And look—there are names from the Three Great Houses in the main district.”
“Noble bloodlines?” I frowned. “How’d they get into a slave camp’s trial list?”
He pointed to the last few lines. “They’re all marked ‘Special Observation.’”
“That’s an old label… used back when they ran the original Wolf King Project.”
I stared at those names—and my heart stuttered.
One name stood out.
Coren.
The boy I had just taken in. The one who smiled like sunlight on fur. Who cooked bone broth for the children. Who sang lullabies by the fire.
The one I almost… trusted.
I marched outside and found him crouched by the wall, feeding a half-blind puppy.
“Coren,” I called.
He turned and smiled. “Boss? You’re up early—”
“What’s your name.”
He blinked. “Uh… Coren?”
“Full name.”
His fingers drew something on the dirt. Eyes lowered.
“…Coren Synor.”
I froze.
Synor—once one of the Three Great Houses, until they were wiped out in what was said to be a ‘necessary purge’… by my mother.
And now, here he was. Living under my roof.
“You came here… to observe me?”
My voice was calm. Too calm.
Coren looked up slowly, eyes shadowed. “No.”
“I came here… to run.”
“To run from the Wolf King Project.”
Then he told me everything.
The Wolf King Project—designed by my mother years ago—was a breeding and conditioning program. To raise the perfect, obedient ruler. A king not of honor, but of command. A leash hidden beneath a crown.
Coren was the seventh generation of that project.
And he ran before the Awakening Ritual.
“I’ve been hiding for four years,” he said. “Until you took me in.”
“You were the first one who made me believe… wolves don’t have to bite.”
I looked at him for a long, long time.
“You know why I don’t trust you?”
“Because the brand on your back still reeks of her.”
He smiled bitterly. “I know. That’s why I’m not asking you to trust me.”
“I’m just asking you not to kill me.”
“I’ll give you everything. The whole plan. Even the real targets on that list.”
I exhaled. “Well, at least you’re not stupid.”
“So tell me—how far along is this new King Project?”
Coren’s eyes hardened.
“The next trial isn’t just a test.”
“It’s the king’s rite.”
“All three ‘Special Observations’—they’re candidates.”
“And you…”
“You’re the Trial Master.”
“You are their test.”
I swore under my breath. “She wants me to train her future king?”
He nodded. “And when the king rises, your job is done.”
“Retired—with force.”
I slammed the list onto the table, laughing coldly.
“Oh, so she thinks I’ll raise her wolf pups?”
“Fine. Then let’s raise them wrong.”
That night, I summoned the Gray Tower squad to the basement.
Our first “Anti-Trial Operation” began.
Raccoon: “We punch before we talk!”
Firewood: “Don’t forget to feed the dog, or it’ll bite someone.”
Amy: “Can I write scripts and stage distractions?”
Coren raised a hand. “I can pretend to be the top candidate. Misdirect her spies.”
I nodded slowly.
“Alright. Let’s do this.”
“We’ll crash this little Wolf King show.”
“She wants fruit?”
“Let’s make sure every branch grows crooked.”
