The Werewolf Count and the Trickster Tailor, Volume 2

by Yuruka Morisaki

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Character Page

  ♚Chapter 1: Not Even Enough Time to Enjoy a Date

  ♚Chapter 2: A Pledge for the Future

  ♚Chapter 3: The Hunter and the Hunted

  ♚Chapter 4: Waiting for the Chance to be Reunited

  ♚Chapter 5: Wolves Form Packs

  ♚Chapter 6: Never Let Go

  ♚Afterword

  Other Series Pt. 1

  Other Series Pt. 2

  The Werewolf Count and the Trickster Tailor, Volume 2

  Yuruka Morisaki

  Translation by Charis Messier

  Illustration by Tsukito

  Title Design by KC Fabellon

  Editing by Tom Speelman

  Proofreading by A.M. Perrone

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The Werewolf Count and the Trickster Tailor

  © 2017 by Yuruka Morisaki

  English translation rights reserved by

  Cross Infinite World.

  English translation ©2021 Cross Infinite World

  All rights reserved. In accordance with U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email below.

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  First Digital Edition: September 2021

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945341-61-8

  ♚Chapter 1: Not Even Enough Time to Enjoy a Date

  ON that day, a calm dusk settled over the shantytown on the outskirts of the imperial capital.

  As far as Rock knew, there’d been one case of a wallet being nicked and three pickpockets caught red-handed on Market Street during the day, and the city constables had kept dropping by her place on patrol. At Floria Clothes Shop, there’d been one custom-made order, two ready-made garment purchasers, and five mending requests.

  One drunk who’d mistaken the shop for a tavern and one conman selling suspicious get-rich-quick-schemes had also come inside but were quickly driven away by Phoebe’s death glare.

  It truly was a peaceful day like any other.

  After closing up shop, Rock headed with Ebel to do some shopping on Market Street. They were out to buy ingredients for dinner.

  “I could swear I invited you to dinner…”

  Ebel cocked his head to the side, baffled by the turn of events as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder down the busy street.

  “You did, which is why we are going shopping,” Rock replied, batting her eyes at him as if his comment was strange.

  Ebel had certainly invited Rock to dinner when he came by the shop. That’s when Phoebe, who happened to be present, asked them to eat at his place.

  It just so happened to be evening and Ebel was the day’s last customer. Rock decided to close early and take Ebel shopping with her. The plan was to go back to Phoebe’s place, where he was waiting for them, after they’d bought all the ingredients.

  “Don’t worry. Phoebe’s a great cook.”

  Rock was thrilled by the unexpected new plans for her evening.

  She was equally looking forward to Phoebe’s home cooking and spending some quality time with Ebel for the first time in a while. She was also happy her father had invited him over. Surely, a delightful dinner awaited them.

  “Phoebe can make just about everything and fast too. Probably because he had to cook on the go as an explorer. He’s not just fast either—the food tastes heavenly!”

  Ebel broke out in a wide grin.

  “You sound excited, Rock.”

  “I am! We haven’t had a chance to spend time together in a while.”

  Ten days had passed since Guido Linus had become a werewolf.

  Today marked the first time Rock had seen Ebel since that night, and they both had so much to discuss with the other. Rock had a mountain of questions for him. How were the repairs faring at Mateus Manor? Had Johanna and the others recovered from their injuries? And how was Ebel feeling now? Was he able to come to terms with his feelings since then?

  More than anything else, she wanted to see Ebel smile.

  “I hope you enjoy yourself as well.”

  Ebel seemed convinced by her explanation.

  “Then I’ll happily eat at your father’s house,” he said, giving in to the change in plans.

  “Please do!”

  “I hope you’ll treat me to your cooking next time,” he shrewdly added.

  “I better practice then.”

  “You’re already great at it. That wheat porridge was phenomenal.”

  Rock had served him porridge for breakfast the last time he stayed over at her place. Ebel had been stuck in werewolf form then, so she’d made something easier for him to eat.

  But wheat porridge was too easy to make to call it cooking.

  “I need to make something fancier if I’m going to be serving a count.”

  Ebel firmly shook his head, denying Rock’s supposition.

  “Please don’t think that way. I’m happy with anything made by you.” He paused, then continued softly, as if relishing the memory. “Your kindness that night and the morning after touched me in ways I’d never felt before. I’ll never forget the taste of your porridge either.”

  Rock gazed up at his handsome side profile with his eyes cast down, feeling a similar curious sentiment.

  That night had become an unforgettable, heartwarming memory for her too.

  After walking in silence, they eventually spotted a neighborhood lined with stalls and tents at the street corner.

  This was Market Street’s famous Hawker Square.

  In addition to freshly harvested fish, meat, and vegetables, there was a wide range of items sold there, like black market goods, stolen goods, and smuggled goods that couldn’t be brought into the imperial capital’s commercial district. Only human trafficking was forbidden on these streets.

  Rock often shopped here, but she never bought thread or fabrics for the shop from these stalls. She didn’t want to have anyone picking a fight with her later, claiming she’d sold them stolen goods.

  But food was the one thing no one could contest once it was eaten.

  “Ebel, let’s check out the meat at that shop first,” Rock suggested, pointing to one of the outdoor stalls.

  A butcher wielding a large cleaver had set up a stall among the street vendors. Racks of lamb and pork that’d been drained of blood hung from the stall, and they’d arrived just in time to see another customer getting their cut of meat.

  “Phoebe wanted me to buy chicken,” Rock continued, taking Ebel’s hand to lead him closer.

  Ebel suddenly frowned.

  “…I hear people arguing.”

  “What? Where?” Rock asked, but even her human ears immediately picked up the sound. />
  She turned just in time to see someone being knocked back into a nearby stall. The wooden frame collapsed with a loud crack, and the man who’d fallen on it after being either shoved or punched was grabbed by the collar by another man as he tried to stand.

  “Ya damn swindler! How’re ya gonna pay me back for this, huh?!”

  His angry shout echoed, and the nearby shoppers moved away from the area faster than the tide receding, forming a wide-berthed crowd around the broken stall.

  Rock doubted anyone in their right mind would want to get involved in this mess…

  “Let’s break it up, shall we, fellows? I can’t have you fighting in the middle of the street like this.”

  Ebel rushed in and told them to stop without hesitation.

  Both men stopped dumbfounded and looked at him.

  Rock plunged into the center of the crowd, following him, and realized she knew the man being held by his collar. She recognized his dull silver hair and effeminate features—and wished she didn’t.

  “Krister Gionet!”

  As soon as she knew he was involved, Rock had a rough idea of what had transpired without having to ask.

  “Is he an acquaintance of yours?”

  “Not really,” Rock answered Ebel’s question with a strained smile. “I just know him because he’s a tailor too.”

  Ready-made clothes, scraps of cloth, and decorative buttons in a bamboo basket were strewn about the crushed stall, attesting to his profession.

  Krister was Floria Clothes Shop’s business rival, to be exact. He seemed to have an endless supply of customers, as he worked for cheap. Those same customers tried to haggle Rock’s prices down by saying “Krister’s shop is cheaper.” So it went without saying that Rock viewed him as little more than a nuisance.

  “Why, if it isn’t Rock Floria…”

  Krister casually raised his hand in greeting, his cheeks swollen.

  But his smugness deflated under the glare of the man who’d hit him.

  “Stay outta this! I’m the victim ’ere!”

  The man who yelled at them was, by all appearances, a no-good thug. Rock didn’t recognize him, but his kind were a dime a dozen in the slums.

  “You’re the victim?”

  “What did you do this time, Krister?”

  Ebel blinked as Rock questioned Krister.

  “Just doing business is all,” Krister answered with a cocky laugh. “This…gentleman here wanted a pair of trousers, so I sold them at the right price.”

  “Right price, my foot! Trousers shouldn’t tear just from bending over!” The customer lost his temper and bore down on Krister. “The ladies laughed at me when they tore and exposed my ass! Ya made me a laughingstock!”

  That’s some bad luck right there, Rock thought.

  Krister was infamous for his workmanship being as cheap as his prices. Many people complained about how their newly bought clothes tore or fell apart at the seams right away. The only reason he continued to have an endless supply of customers was because the slums were full of people who could barely afford to get by each day. Few were wealthy enough to pay for something of decent quality.

  That being said, buying from Krister was the definition of getting what you pay for.

  “Sorry, friend! I’ve been busy lately and got a little sloppy.”

  Krister’s apathetic apology finally caused the customer to explode with anger.

  “Don’t think I’ll let ya off the hook… Gimme back my money!”

  “Fine! I’ll pay you back.”

  “Ya better pay extra for embarrassin’ me!”

  The customer was reasonably angry, but that didn’t give him the right to demand more than he was due.

  “I understand how you feel, but let’s just settle this with a refund,” Rock interjected, hoping to end things amicably. “Krister will never pay extra. You’re just wasting your time threatening him.”

  “Shut up, cheeky brat!”

  Ebel swiftly moved in front of Rock when the man yelled at her.

  “Honor isn’t something you can buy with money. If you want to rinse away your shame, stop threatening people and start acting like a gentleman.”

  Whether the count was trying to advise or provoke with that sound argument—

  “What the hell did ya just say to me?!”

  —it caused the man to finally lose it.

  He tossed Krister to the side and charged straight at Ebel.

  He pulled out a dagger but was no match for Ebel, even with a weapon. In the blink of an eye, Ebel knocked the dagger out of the man’s hand, twisted his wrist, and slammed him down to the ground.

  “Damn swindler! Curse you!”

  The customer staggered to his feet and ran away, cursing them. He shoved his way through the crowd and quickly disappeared down the street.

  “Well…that was child’s play.”

  The sound of things being roughly scooped up off the ground drowned out Ebel’s exasperated voice. Rock turned around just in time to see Krister gather the last of his wares from the broken stall before making a break for it.

  “I owe you one, Rock Floria! Thank your buddy for me too!”

  “Huh? Tell him yourself—wait, where are you going?!”

  “I’m not stickin’ around for the constables! Take care of the rest for me. Ta-ta!”

  Krister Gionet disappeared into the crowds ten times faster than the thug had.

  All that was left was a trashed stall, decorative buttons scattered on the ground, and the crowd surrounding Rock and Ebel.

  “Are you hurt, Ebel?”

  Rock returned to her senses first and offered Ebel her handkerchief, but he gently refused it.

  “I’m fine. But do you think I shouldn’t have gotten involved?”

  “Krister would have been stabbed if you hadn’t intervened, Ebel.”

  Rock was sure of it. At least his life was saved, if nothing else.

  Sadly, she knew this wouldn’t be enough to make Krister turn over a new leaf. He was bound to cause trouble again soon.

  “I would like to think I helped too…” Ebel sighed, unsure how to feel about it all. “There’s all sorts of people in this city, huh?”

  The slums were the stomping grounds for people who’d been forced out of the imperial capital. And even with quarrels like this, it was considered business as usual—just another peaceful day.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  Ebel’s golden eyes widened at Rock’s apology.

  “Why are you apologizing? Besides, I didn’t find it the least bit upsetting.”

  “Really? But…”

  “I might even call it thrilling. This district continues to amuse me,” Ebel said with ease, offering Rock a gentle smile. “Now then, why don’t we get on with our shopping? Eating delicious food is the best way to change the mood.”

  Rock felt like she finally understood what it meant for someone to touch your heart. So she returned his smile with a genuine one of her own.

  “…Okay. Let’s go, Ebel!”

  ♚♚♚

  “THAT punk Krister got himself into trouble again?” Phoebe sighed as soon as he heard what happened from Rock and Ebel when they got to his house. “I knew he’d get stabbed someday doing business that way.”

  “He avoided getting stabbed this time thanks to His Excellency,” Rock responded wryly, handing Phoebe the meat and vegetables she bought at Hawker Square.

  Phoebe accepted the ingredients and carried them to the kitchen while checking to make sure they got everything.

  He had returned home first to remove his makeup and change out of his dress into a pair of slacks. He normally wore comfortable, feminine clothes at home too, but now that Rock thought about it, he might’ve changed to come across as more “fatherly” in front of his daughter’s beau.

  Ebel already knew about Phoebe’s two identities, so he could’ve stayed in whatever outfit made him most comfortable, but Rock didn’t say anything because she wante
d to respect her father’s choice. Just as she’d respected his decision when he asked her to specifically refer to him as “he/him” rather than “she/her” as she’d grown accustomed to.

  “Does he always do business like that?” Ebel asked, sitting on the sofa like a proper houseguest.

  Rock and Phoebe nodded in perfect unison.

  “He’s the type to try to make the most money possible with the least amount of work.”

  “He’s an underselling business rival, I’d say.”

  “…Oh dear. It sounds like I helped someone I shouldn’t have.”

  Ebel rubbed his temples with mixed emotions.

  But Count Mateus was not the kind of man to let Krister get killed in front of him, even if he knew the truth about him. He had something to him the people of the slums didn’t, and that was exactly what drew Rock to him.

  “Let’s forget about him,” Rock chirped, trying to brighten the mood. “His nastiness will leave our minds once we get some delicious food in us.”

  “That little punk wouldn’t learn any better even if he got a knife to the gut,” Phoebe added, purposely trying to sound mean. “Knowing him, he’s already drowning the memory with a bottle of ale. We’re just wasting our time thinking about that troublemaker.”

  Ebel finally smiled after both Rock and Phoebe put it like that.

  “In that case, I’ll forget him as well… On another note…” His golden eyes took in the room and widened in awe. “This is my first time visiting your home, and it’s…not what I was expecting.”

  “What were you expecting?” Phoebe asked.

  “Something more feminine,” Ebel answered honestly.

  Phoebe’s apartment was located down the alley behind Market Street.

  Brick apartments counted as fairly good dwellings in the slums, and his castle was located on the top floor, where the rent was the cheapest. It was a five-story building, so you wouldn’t want to live there unless you were a brave soul with strong legs.

  He had a one-bedroom apartment where the kitchen and living room shared the same space. Phoebe’s prized possessions decorated the living area the three of them were in. Jewel-encrusted ceremonial swords, frayed ancient imperial textiles, beautiful agate and ivory vases, well-used iron armor—all items Phoebe had collected in his mercenary days.