I Was Caught in a Dilemma

My face burned instantly. No. This was too embarrassing. I instinctively shook off his hand and lowered my voice. “… Then what do you suggest we do?” He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, as if weighing something. “Take me to where you grabbed the powder,” he said. “We need to figure out exactly which one you mixed up.” “I didn’t steal it,” I whispered back, defensively. “I just… took it casually.” The words sounded weak the moment they left my mouth. He let out a soft chuckle, as if he had already expected me to say that—half exasperated, half calmly seeing through me. I wanted to refuse, to insist this was internal Tideborne Covenant business, that my father’s storeroom was a clan secret. But the words froze on my lips. There was no better choice. In the end, I had no option but to grit my teeth and nod. My father’s storeroom lay at the very heart of the clan territory. As the heavy stone door swung open, a mixed scent of parchment, herbs, and metal rushed out. The space was enormous. The first three rows along the walls were lined with tall, orderly bookshelves, filled with ancient tomes. Parchment scrolls and hardbound books sat side by side; many covers had been worn pale by time. The middle three rows were the apothecary section. Rows of cabinets held wooden boxes, clay jars, and moon-crystal vials, all meticulously labeled—almost obsessively precise. And the last three rows— Weapons. Spears, short blades, heavy swords, silver chains—all arranged silently in the shadows, like a row of watchful sentinels. Caedmon stood at the doorway and clicked his tongue lowly. “Tideborne Covenant—” “Truly a centuries-old werewolf clan.” His gaze swept slowly over the storeroom, his tone for the first time tinged with genuine admiration. “Impressive collection.” I walked ahead, fingertips brushing unconsciously along a row of wooden cabinets. “As long as I stay here,” I whispered, “all of this… will eventually be mine.” I paused, then added quietly: “But if I leave—then it will all be beyond my reach.” He didn’t respond immediately. As a fellow heir, he should understand my feelings. After a moment, he finally gave a slight nod. “I understand.” At that moment, his tone wasn’t that of the heir to the Silver Throne of the Argent Moon—he was just another person bound by blood and duty. We walked to the apothecary section. As we approached, I immediately sensed something was wrong. On the floor, a wooden box lay toppled, its lid askew, a small amount of powder spilled out. And on the shelf— Another box had been opened. Caedmon followed my gaze, frowning slightly. “Which one did you take?” I pointed to the shelf. “I remember… I took it from up there. It was too dark at the time—I didn’t notice if there was a box on the floor.” We knelt together, placing the two boxes side by side. The markings on the lids were clear. One read: Lunarbane Dust The other, The script was ancient and unfamiliar. Moonwoven Veil I frowned. “I’ve never heard of this one before.” No sooner had I spoken than I sensed it—Caedmon’s expression changed instantly. “You don’t know it?” His voice was almost a whisper, as if afraid to disturb something. I slowly stood, a sudden unease rising in my chest. “What… is it?” He didn’t answer immediately. Just the moment his eyes rested on that box, it was as if something had struck him hard. I stared at the empty box, frowning, a deeper unease gnawing at me. Caedmon knelt down, his fingers brushing lightly over the Moonwoven Veil, then slowly lifted his head. His voice was low, carrying a weight of suppressed history. “This is f*******n in every clan,” he said. “So it’s normal you’ve never heard of it. Its origin… is not simple.” I held my breath, following his gaze closely. “Two hundred years ago, there was a female apothecary,” he paused, as if recalling a dark, ancient tale. “She… fell in love with an Alpha in her clan.” I swallowed instinctively. “The problem was, that Alpha already had someone in his heart,” a cold edge flickered in his eyes. “So she schemed… and created this potion.” I wanted to ask—what exactly did this potion do? He spoke softly, deliberately. “During a time when the Alpha was ill and needed medicine, she secretly gave him this potion.” “And the result?” His voice was clear, almost narrating a story. “The Alpha who takes it will mistake the first woman he sees for his fate mate. Not only will he mark her… but—” He paused, sweeping his gaze over me, leaving the rest for me to imagine. “…He will have s****l relations with her.” My face went pale; my palms began to sweat. He continued. “By the time he realizes what has happened, it’s too late. His true love couldn’t bear such a violation, and she left the clan.” My heart raced, my scalp prickling. “Of course, he hated the apothecary,” Caedmon’s voice hardened, “and imprisoned her. But the potion… it was too cruel. It activates unpredictably—the apothecary herself never fully mastered it, and she didn’t even have time to make an antidote before giving it to him.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “So…” he lowered his voice, almost as if recounting a family disgrace, “…the Alpha would relapse from time to time. Unable to bear it, he would seek the apothecary, begging for the antidote.” “Eventually, the apothecary became pregnant. The Alpha, due to the potion’s effect, could not love anyone else. So he renounced everything—his position as Alpha, his place in the clan—and went to live with the apothecary in the Wasteland.” Such a bleak, tragic story. I clenched my fists, my heart churning. And this potion… it still existed, here, in my father’s storeroom. I didn’t understand—why would something like this even exist? Caedmon slowly lifted his head, expression grave. “This potion has been completely f*******n,” he said, “but some clans still secretly brew it, using it to ensnare Alphas of other clans.” I looked at him, voice low. “Then… what do we do now?” His silver eyes were deep, calm, yet beneath the surface a trace of anxiety lingered. “The High Priest of the Silver Throne of the Argent Moon has studied every kind of potion, and he keeps everything tightly sealed. We can ask for his help.” I frowned. “But… it’s half a month’s journey to your side. Can we survive that long?” He didn’t answer immediately, instead letting his gaze sweep over the shelves of potions and tomes, then resting on me—silent, complicated. “We have to go,” he said, voice low and firm. “Otherwise, tonight’s situation will eventually spiral completely out of control.” “Or… do you want to be my mate?” His voice was low, deep, carrying a faintly provocative, teasing edge. I shook my head repeatedly, desperate to banish that thought from my mind. “No… no way.” I whispered, fingertips clenched. “I could never be with you.” I took a deep breath, letting rational thought flood my mind like ice water. “The potion is affecting you right now,” I hurriedly explained. “While you’re under its effect, you’ll think I’m your fate mate—it’s too dangerous!” My heart raced, palms slightly damp. “Going out with you alone is like sending a lamb to the wolves!” He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “I… if I bring others, we risk being discovered anyway.” I sighed, desperation in my voice. “It’s… really difficult.” In the silence, a thought suddenly occurred to me—according to the story he just told, this potion specifically affected Alphas. He hadn’t mentioned any effect on women. I tried to grasp at hope, asking cautiously, “Could it be… the potion… doesn’t affect women?”