When an unusually warm year arrives, sometimes flowers bloom even amidst the bitter cold of the Demonic Realm. They say that the rare, enchanting scent of these flowers drives wolves and lycanthropes mad. So, if the wind from the Demonic Realm carries a hint of floral fragrance, you’d better rein in your hunting dogs and stay indoors.
Despite her grandmother’s stern warning, young Louise would always scoff at the tale.
At least, until that day she caught an unfamiliar, sweet scent during a walk.
“…Max.”
He was her loyal friend, always following her on her walks, even if he was preoccupied with taking care of his pups.
That was until she saw the unmistakable bloodthirst reflected in the faithful dog’s eyes.
“Max.”
At dawn, Louise went to the kennel, vigorously shaking a piece of unseasoned jerky.
But the proud wolfhound only glanced at her before turning away again.
Unlike his mother, Max never opened his heart to her. Louise couldn’t tell if it was due to the forced master-servant relationship or perhaps the scent of his mother’s blood he’d smelled as a pup.
In the end, she had to return home, disappointed as always.
“Sniff. Went to see that dog again, did you? You haven’t been to the kennels much lately.”
Her father, who was having a light meal alone, noticed her and asked, probably sensing the smell of dogs lingering…