Emily

Year: 3002

As the sun began to rise, a tiny butterfly flew around the beautiful Ark Pack. As it fluttered, it passed every magnificent high-tech building—no one would ever believe werewolves resided in them.

The butterfly flapped its wings faster as the beings started waking up. Some opened their windows with just a button on their shelves, some programmed their robot taxis for the day, some were carried from bed by high-tech devices to their bathrooms, and others were dressed up by robots. Some ran into the woods in their wolf forms, while others remained asleep.

The peaceful, quiet environment from minutes ago became as busy as a market. Robot noises echoed; wolves yelped; children laughed; teenagers chuckled; parents shouted; chefs cooked; shops opened automatically; and bikes moved on their own, delivering goods.

Desperate for a quiet place to perch, the butterfly searched—but found none. With no room left for it outside, it quickly flew into a well-structured peach building.

There lay Emily, quietly sleeping on her bed, an oxygen mask resting on her pale face. The butterfly decided this was the perfect place to be. As Emily slept peacefully, it perched on her forehead, desperate to find peace too.

But unfortunately, it woke her.

Her eyes flipped open slowly. For a moment, she was surprised she was still alive. As she rose, the butterfly flew away. With a grin, Emily watched the beautiful creature until it disappeared from sight.

"I just hope you bring me good luck, butterfly," she whispered. Removing the oxygen mask, she sighed heavily.

"Another day, Emily," she said to herself.

Slipping her feet into her slippers, she prepared to stand—but suddenly, a guy dressed in a hijab jumped into her room through the window.

Startled, Emily clenched her bedsheet and screamed.

Immediately, the guy removed the hijab veil. When she saw his face, she sighed in relief—though her breathing remained heavy.

[If not Jack, then who?] her wolf, Sylva, groaned angrily in her mind.

Emily stood up to retaliate, but before she could say a word, the guy rushed to her.

He cupped her mouth, grabbed her waist, and pressed his lips against his hand on her mouth, moving his head in a kissing rhythm.

Emily froze, puzzled—until a group of werewolves ran past her window.

After they passed, he let go of her waist and removed his hand from her mouth.

"Are they gone?" he whispered.

Emily nodded, walking to the window to check.

Turning back to him quickly, she whispered, "Hide."

Without hesitation, he jumped into her bed, covering himself with her blanket.

Emily facepalmed.

Moments later, one of the werewolves returned and peeked into her room.

"Hey, Miss, by any chance, did you see any woman in a hijab run past here?" he asked, scanning the area.

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied with a grin.

"You sure? She's quite dangerous."

"Yeah, I'm sure. If I see her, I'll let you know."

"Thank you," he said with a bow, then left.

As soon as he was gone, Emily stormed over to her bed and whacked the guy hiding under her blanket.

"Idiot! What have you done this time?"

He jumped out of the bed. "Ow, ow, ow—easy, Emily," he said with a smirk, brushing his curly hair from his handsome face.

Suddenly, banging on her room door made both of them jump.

"Emily, sweetheart? Are you okay?" her mother’s panicked voice echoed.

Emily glared at Jack. His smirk remained.

"Yes, Ma," Emily replied, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"Please open up. I heard you screaming," her mom insisted.

"Oh, Ma, it's nothing. I saw a cockroach," Emily said, giving Jack a death glare while kicking him, gesturing frantically for him to hide.

Still, he didn’t get it.

"Okay, open up. I brought you breakfast," her mom said.

Emily’s heart raced.

"Hide," she whispered urgently.

"Where?" Jack whispered back, scanning the room with his hazel eyes.

"Anywhere!" she hissed, pushing him toward the corner.

But then, her mom realized something.

"Oh... I thought you locked the door."

The door creaked open.

Her mother stood there, eyes wide, almost dropping the tray of food in her hands.