Clara’s POV
One month later, Paris.
I stood before the gates of the Parisian Academy of Werewolf Arts, looking at the century–old building, my heart filled with
excitement.
Ivy climbed the ancient stone walls, and warm light shone from the tall arched windows.
This was the most prestigious art institution in Europe, a place where countless masters had studied and created.
“Professor Clara, welcome,” the academy’s dean of affairs greeted me warmly. “Your studio is ready. It’s on the top floor of the North Wing, with the best light in the entire academy.”
“Thank you,” I smiled as I followed him inside.
The hallways were filled with student work–paintings, sculptures, installations, each piece bursting with creativity and
passion.
The rich, creative atmosphere made my wolf stir with a life it hadn’t felt in years.
“By the way,” the dean said, “our honorary president would like to meet you. He’s very excited about you joining us.”
“Honorary president?”
“Yes. Though he is young, he has a very high reputation in the art world. You’ve surely heard of his work.”
We arrived at the door of a spacious office.
The dean knocked. “Mr. President, Professor Clara is here.”
“Please, come in,” a familiar voice replied from inside.
I pushed the door open and froze.
Sitting behind the desk was Asher.
“Surprised?” he stood up with a gentle smile. “Welcome to my academy, Professor Clara.”
“You… you’re the honorary president here?” I looked at him in disbelief.
“Since three years ago,” Asher walked over. “I established the psychic arts department here to cultivate talented werewolf artists.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” his eyes shone with a tender light. “Besides, this way we can see each other more often.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm.
Asher was always like this, showing me the greatest care in the gentlest ways.
Over the next few days, I began my teaching work.
The students were brilliant, with a deep interest in psychic art.
I taught them how to channel the energy of their wolf into visual art, how to let emotion drive their creations.
“Professor, your painting ‘Moonlight Rebirth‘ is absolutely breathtaking,” a student named Sophie said excitedly. “The transition from despair to hope is so moving it makes you want to cry.”
Chapter25
+25 BONUS
“Art is meant to touch the soul,” I said gently. “Your work must also be an honest expression of your inner world.”
In my free time, I often walked around the academy grounds.
Every plant and stone here brought me a sense of peace, as if I had found my true home.
But I noticed there was always one gardener working near me.
He wore a wide–brimmed hat and a mask that obscured most of his face, but his height was unmistakable. Whenever I passed by, he would stop his work and watch me from a distance.
“That gardener is a bit strange,” I mentioned to Sophie.
“You mean Jacques?” Sophie looked out the window. “He just started last month. I heard he’s a refugee wolf from Germany. He doesn’t say much, but he’s a hard worker.”
“From Germany?”
“Yes. And he always seems to be working near you,” Sophie said thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s trying to look out for you. You are
the new star professor, after all.”
Protect me?
The word stirred a complex feeling in my heart.
On Friday afternoon, I was in my office grading student work when Sophie knocked.
“Professor, the President wants to see you,” she said. “He’s waiting for you in the secret garden on the top floor.”
“Secret garden?”
“It’s the President’s private garden. It’s usually closed to the public,” Sophie’s eyes twinkled with gossip. “I’ve heard he’s never invited anyone else up there.”
I straightened my clothes and took the elevator to the top floor.
A long hallway led from the elevator to a glass door, with the faint outline of green plants visible behind it.
I pushed the door open and was greeted by a beautiful rooftop garden
All sorts of exotic flowers swayed in the evening sun, the air filled with a faint, sweet fragrance.
Moonflowers, silver ferns, and other sacred wolf flowers I couldn’t name created a dreamlike world.
“Asher?” I looked around. “Are you here?”
But the garden was quiet. No one answered.
Strange. Sophie had clearly said he was waiting for me here…
I was about to turn and leave when I heard a loud SLAM behind me.
I turned to see the glass door had been heavily locked.
