"Fine! I'll move forward. After all, in my old world, I'm certain my life has ended. So, I'll make the most of this new chance!"
The past? Left behind. The future? Uncertain, yet it pulsed before her, inviting her to take a step forward. If her old life had truly come to an end, she would make this new one a story worth living.
Eager but nervous, Ophelia stood up, feeling the soft, slightly cool grass beneath her feet. She took a deep breath and started walking north, admiring the breathtaking sight of the flower-filled field. She continued on until the flowers began to dwindle, replaced by grass and shrubs. Along with this shift, the sound of running water reached her ears.
Excited and thirsty, Ophelia rushed toward the sound until she spotted a crystal-clear, pristine stream. Kneeling down, she gazed at her reflection in the surface, stunned by the impression of sheer beauty staring back at her.
"Is this... really me?"
Her face was delicate and smooth, flawless; her lips were full and the soft shade of cherry blossoms. Her eyes gleamed in a deep, rich violet, crystalline as precious gems, framed by long platinum-gold lashes.
Her hair, once golden, now cascaded in silky platinum waves, rippling like the ocean itself. Her slender body possessed impeccable proportions, her curves balanced in all the right places. But among all these transformations, one detail would have been impossible in her old world—a pair of lupine ears, plush, delicate, and incredibly soft.
Satisfied yet still in shock, she cupped her hands together, collecting the clear water. It was so pristine it mirrored her image like a perfect glass. She brought it to her lips and drank. The taste was refreshing and pure, as if it had been born from the earth itself.
Rejuvenated, she stood with a smile and decided to search for food. She followed the stream for a few minutes until she spotted a tree full of ripe fruits, resembling the mangoes from her former world.
Hesitant, she scanned the area for signs of danger—perhaps a dead animal, an indication of poison. But all was peaceful. Just vibrant grass and damp earth from the stream.
Hungry, she picked up a long branch nearby and, with a few precise strikes, managed to knock down two fruits. Holding one, she felt its firm, smooth texture and murmured:
"Maybe the peel isn't edible."
With her hands, she peeled it away, revealing its golden, succulent flesh.
As she took her first bite, an incredibly delicate yet sweet flavor exploded in her mouth. Juice dripped from the fruit, and for a brief moment, Ophelia closed her eyes, savoring the taste as if it were the first meal to truly nourish her soul.
After finishing the entire fruit, Ophelia observed the only thing left—a round seed, its core resting upon the soil. Satisfied and renewed, she sat at the tree's roots, taking in the peace around her.
But tranquility never lasts long.
A sudden snap of twigs echoed through the forest, followed by a deep growl. Her body tensed. Ophelia turned—and froze.
Before her stood a massive silver-furred wolf, its glowing eyes the same striking shade as its coat.
Her heart pounded wildly. Without realizing, her fingers lost grip, and she dropped the second fruit onto the ground. She couldn't move. She didn't know what to do.
The wolf simply watched, its sharp eyes tracking every subtle movement, as if studying her presence. Fear gripped her, and—driven by a childlike instinct—Ophelia squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the worst.
Nothing happened. No attack. No sudden movement.
Instead, a gentle touch.
A hand clasped hers.
Her heartbeat skyrocketed. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes—and the sight before her was even more surreal than before.
Now, standing before her, was an astonishing man. His silver eyes and hair shimmered like faded stars, his soft wolf ears perched atop his head, identical to hers. His slender, yet perfectly sculpted physique, carried an aura of both strength and mystery.
With a confused yet slightly amused expression, he spoke:
"What are you doing alone in this isolated part of the forest? Do you have a mate? Who are you? What's your species?"
His keen eyes scanned her, taking in every detail before adding:
"You look like a wolf, like me—but I've never seen a pure white one before."
A barrage of questions hit her all at once. Ophelia hesitated, taken aback by his sudden intensity. Yet, deep down, she felt relief—her first encounter wasn't with a wild beast, but an orc.
With a soft voice, tinged with uncertainty, Ophelia replied:
"I… my name is Ophelia. I suppose I'm a wolf, like you. My tribe abandoned me… and I have no mate."
She kept her expression neutral, but inside, her heartbeat raced. It was a lie—a fabricated excuse pulled from the scarce information she received upon waking. But what else could she say? She had no choice. She still knew nothing about her true origin.
Azazel furrowed his brow, surprised. Something about her hesitation when speaking of her own kind intrigued him. But what perplexed him even more was how such an exquisite beauty could be alone, without a tribe, without a mate.
For a moment, his silver eyes flickered with curiosity before he finally said:
"Pleasure to meet you, my name is Azazel. If you are lost and your tribe abandoned you… how about coming with me to mine? Even if you only want to stay temporarily, I'll understand."
His words were direct, yet carried a hint of caution and understanding.
Ophelia hesitated. Was it safe to trust him?
She had no alternatives. Staying alone in the forest could be far more dangerous than accepting the help of a stranger.
With a quiet sigh, she tried to mask the tension in her voice and answered:
"Alright, Azazel. Take me to your tribe."