Although Nolan found Fleur to be an insufferable Veela, she hadn't lied.
Ligeitoli, who had been devouring food in the dining hall the entire time, had attracted some unwanted attention.
The one pestering her was a teenage boy, about fifteen or sixteen, dressed fashionably and brimming with confidence.
He had a head of golden hair and carried himself with an air of practiced ease—clearly someone well-versed in the art of flirting. He sat beside Ligeitoli, chatting nonstop, eager to strike up a conversation with the pretty girl next to him.
Unfortunately for him, the pretty girl in question had absolutely no interest in him.
Ligeitoli was far too busy stuffing her face with fried chicken and pudding to waste her precious eating time on small talk with some random stranger.
Nolan normally wouldn't have cared if some idiot decided to bother the foolish elf, but something about the blond boy rubbed him the wrong way.
A deep, inexplicable sense of loathing rose in his chest—an almost primal surge of disgust and fury.
Without thinking, he strode forward and grabbed the boy's wrist in a crushing grip. In an instant, he twisted the boy's arm behind his back and slammed him onto the table with a loud thud.
"Oi! What the hell is wrong with you, bastard?!"
The blond boy howled in pain, while Ligeitoli sat there frozen in shock, her mouth hanging open so wide that the half-eaten fried chicken she had been chewing fell straight onto the plate.
"Mmm—mmbf!" The elf hurriedly wiped her greasy lips and shrieked, "What happened, grumpy jerk?!"
At that moment, she overheard a conversation at the next table. A mature woman whispered to her companion, "Oh, look, the boys are fighting over the girl. How adorable."
Ligeitoli's face immediately turned bright red.
She waved her oil-stained hands in a panic. "H-He didn't do anything to me! No need to get angry! Calm down!"
Nolan cast her a cool, unreadable glance.
That look alone made Ligeitoli shrink back, her ears twitching nervously as she clamped her mouth shut.
The blond boy groaned under the pressure on his arm but still managed to keep his tone light and playful.
"Ow, ow, ow—alright, mate, you're hurting me! Look, inviting a lovely lady to a date is a perfectly normal thing for an English gentleman. You can't fault me for that, can you?" He winced. "How was I supposed to know she already had a boyfriend?"
Nolan scoffed. "Let's be clear—she's not my date."
The boy let out a knowing chuckle. "Oh? You haven't won her over yet? Then that means we're still in fair competition, yeah?" He grinned. "Gotta say, a girl this stunning isn't easy to find in London. Mate, why don't you let go of me so we can have a civilized conversation?"
Nolan narrowed his eyes, lowering his voice to a whisper as he leaned in. "How about we have a chat... about the fact that you're a werewolf?"
Werewolf.
—A vampire's natural enemy. Their mortal enemy.—
A deep-seated instinct made every vampire loathe werewolves on sight.
It was why most wizards struggled to identify a werewolf in human form, while a vampire could always tell. It was ingrained in their very nature.
The boy's expression turned serious in an instant. "You're a vampire?"
Nolan released his grip and straightened. "Looks like I was right. And as you said, we definitely need to talk."
Under the curious gazes of the other cruise passengers, the two of them left the dining hall.
Trailing behind them, still clutching a whole box of fried chicken, was a certain elf.
When they reached Nolan's cabin, the blond boy hesitated at the door, reluctant to step inside. But the cool press of a blade against his back changed his mind.
He let out a dramatic sigh. "Guess I don't have a choice, huh?" He raised his hands in surrender and added, "Look, vampire bro, I know hunting werewolves is your species' favorite pastime, but you should know—I'm a rogue werewolf. I've never once snapped a vampire's neck, never sunk my teeth into one. I don't know if you guys taste any different from Muggles, and frankly, I'd rather not find out."
He smirked. "See? I'm a peaceful werewolf."
Nolan's expression remained cold and unreadable. "Which pack are you from? Coldclaw?"
"Coldclaw? Oh, no! That's the biggest werewolf clan in all of England—why would they ever accept a fledgling pup like me?"
The blond boy grinned, his tone lighthearted. "You know, Coldclaw werewolves have a distinct mark on their arms. You can check for yourself."
Nolan turned to Ligeitoli and spoke in a quiet but firm voice. "Pull up his sleeve."
"Oh..." The elf obediently nodded and tugged up the werewolf's sleeve.
Nothing.
There was no mark.
"See? I told you, I'm not Coldclaw!" The boy looked rather pleased with himself.
But his smug expression didn't last long. A moment later, his grin faltered, and he let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I tried to join them once. But when they found out I was a weak little werewolf—one who had never even killed a single Muggle—they turned me away. Can you believe that? What kind of werewolf has never killed a Muggle? Ha... ha..."
"Actually, there are a lot of werewolves like that," Ligeitoli suddenly piped up.
Nolan shot her a sharp glare. "Shut up."
Then he turned back to the young werewolf and said, "You're unlucky to have run into me. Get inside. I'll make sure you get the best punishment."
"What punishment?! I don't want any punishment! I just want to live!"
The werewolf shoved Nolan aside, then spun around and delivered a powerful kick—BANG!
The door in front of him splintered apart, and without a second thought, he bolted into the room beyond.
Nolan watched with a cold smirk. "Werewolves really do have thick skulls. I wouldn't bet on him being any smarter than Longbottom."
But as it turned out, the room the werewolf had barged into wasn't just anyone's—it was Nolan's own cabin.
The young vampire and the elf followed him inside.
In the dimly lit room, Nolan's voice was laced with amusement as he leaned against the doorframe.
"That was a very short-lived escape, little wolf."
In the darkness, the werewolf let out an awkward chuckle. "Heh... vampire, now doesn't seem like the time for jokes."
His eyes weren't on Nolan anymore. Instead, he was staring past him—at the other person in the room.
"Looks like you already had a guest in here—hey, mate, what are you? Another vampire? A Redcap? A Swamp Bigfoot? Or something even worse?"
The werewolf groaned dramatically, raking a hand through his golden hair.
"Merlin's beard, I really hope you're just a Muggle thief. But knowing my luck? Hah! Lately, everything's been a bloody disaster. First, I get rejected by Coldclaw, then I try chatting up a girl and end up running into a vampire, and now? Now I've got a whole new problem..."
Nolan's eyes darkened.
Yes. There was someone else in the room.
A young man—tall, dressed in Muggle clothing.
But Nolan knew, with absolute certainty, that he wasn't a Muggle.
Because in his hand, he held a wand.
Nolan stepped further into the room, his golden eyes gleaming in the darkness.
"This is my cabin." His voice was cold, unforgiving. "The werewolf was invited in. The wizard? Was not."
His left hand tightened around the dagger at his waist. His right hand had already drawn his unicorn wand.
"You'd better have a good reason for being here, wizard. Otherwise, you'll end up just like the werewolf."
The werewolf let out a yelp. "What do you mean, 'just like the werewolf'?! What's gonna happen to me?!"
Nolan shrugged. "Something unpleasant."
"Nooo! I'm a good werewolf!"
The young werewolf's distressed cries echoed through the cabin, but Nolan ignored him.
The wizard was far more important.
Because Nolan was sure of one thing—this man was here to steal something.
And there was something familiar about him...
"Ah, you're..."
Before Nolan could finish, Ligeitoli let out a small gasp of recognition.
At that exact moment, the wizard made his move.
With lightning speed, he raised his wand and cast a spell.
"STUPEFY!"
~~~----------------------
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