Omens Over Mooncall,The Alpha Heir They Tried to Ruin

She bit her lip, her face twisted into a mask of anguished sympathy.

"You're just too strong for your own good. I've told you a hundred times—I can help you. With resources, with pack connections, with anything you need." Her voice trembled with admiration. "But you insist on doing everything yourself." She shook her head slowly. "You're nothing like those pampered Alpha heirs who've had territory and tribute handed to them since birth..."

The Howl-Net chatter exploded across the scrying mirrors:

【Can the former intended mate seriously not tell the female lead is throwing shade at him?! Just forfeit the rite already and give first standing back to our precious male lead!】

【The female lead only offered tribute for this whole Moon-ink rite so she could sit on the adjudicator council—all for the male lead's sake!】

【Doesn't matter how much he lies. Once they pull the scrying mirror records, his "pure moonlight" image is going straight into the gutter!】

【The male lead comes from such a struggling pack and has to hunt his way through the Academy. He's been through so much hardship!】

I stared at Darian.

At the moonstone-encrusted claw-ring on his finger, worth at least a hundred thousand in pack currency. The shadow-silk coat draped across his shoulders, easily eighty thousand. The drake-leather boots on his feet, another six thousand at minimum.

My brow furrowed.

Struggling pack?

Hunting his way through the Academy?

Were we talking about the same wolf?

He was dressed more like old bloodline nobility than I was—and I was the actual Alpha Heir here.

Anyone who'd ever worked with Moon-ink knew how easy it was to get the sacred pigments everywhere. That's why most rune-scribes wore cheap, stain-resistant pelts to work in.

But Darian...

I watched the comments continue to gush over his "admirable dedication" and "humble circumstances."

I had no words.

Before I could even respond, tears began streaming down Darian's face.

"I know you're some wealthy Alpha Heir who doesn't care about tribute prizes this small," he choked out. "But for me, this rite standing represents an entire cycle's worth of Academy fees. I need this tribute. I can't survive without it."

His eyes were red-rimmed, glistening with moisture. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees before me.

Thud.

The sound echoed through the council hall like a death knell.

"I know you swapped the ritual sigils because you wanted first standing. Fine—I'll give you the title. You can have the rite championship." His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "But please, can you at least give me back the tribute prize?" He bowed his head lower. "If you want me to ghost-scribe for you in the future, just ask. You don't have to steal my work."

Selene rushed forward, cradling him protectively against her chest. "A wolf's knees are sacred to the pack! You're the victim here—why should you kneel to him?!"

If I agreed with anything Darian said, I'd be confessing on the spot.

I kept my voice level, letting no growl slip through. "As far as I know, Academy fees are twelve thousand in tribute per cycle. You could sell any single item you're wearing and cover that several times over." I paused, letting my gaze sweep meaningfully over his expensive attire. "And for the record—I have zero interest in winning a traditional Moon-ink rite. Why would I swap anyone's work?"

Darian's expression flickered, freezing for just a moment. His scent spiked with something sharp—fear, perhaps, or calculation. Then he turned to Selene, wounded and helpless as a kicked pup.

"These things aren't mine. They're gifts—from wolves who care about me. They have sentimental value." His voice rose with desperate conviction. "I could starve through three winters before I'd ever sell someone's heartfelt gesture for tribute." He pressed a hand to his chest. "All I want is to earn my way through my craft. Through my own two claws."

"I'm not trying to steal the rite championship from you. I'm begging you—just give me back the tribute prize."

His voice was raw, shredded, barely a rasp.

Selene's eyes shimmered with emotion, her hand stroking his hair. "You sweet, foolish pup..."

The other rite contestants closed in around us, accusations flying like snapping jaws:

"Darian is literally kneeling and begging you. What more do you want?"

"I can't stand these privileged Alpha parasites—thinking bloodline means they can steal other wolves' work."

"Making him return the tribute prize isn't enough. His rite entry needs to be voided entirely!"

The Pack-Echo omens erupted in righteous fury across every scrying mirror:

【Can this piece of trash just DROP DEAD?! He's forcing our precious male lead to KNEEL. I'm howling in grief, our poor baby male lead!】

【Thank the Moon Mother the female lead will expose him for swapping the ritual sigils and give the championship back to the male lead!】

【The best part comes later—the female lead never forgets how the male lead was humiliated. She pretends to pursue the former intended mate, then rejects the mating bond AT THE CEREMONY on their claiming day! The supporting male's whole pack is disgraced, their territory holdings collapse! The female lead claims their hunting grounds and drives his accomplice parents into such ruin they throw themselves from the mountain cliffs!】

I stared at that last omen.

My vision went red at the edges, wolf surging beneath my skin.

The Pack-Echo omens shrieked:

【WAIT—can he actually SEE these?!】

I wrenched my gaze away, forcing my claws to retract, pretending I hadn't seen a thing.