Drawing Manga in a Romance Fantasy

Chapter 123

Werewolves, commonly known as lycanthropes, were often distinguished by the color of their fur.

Among these werewolves, the Blue Werewolf, known for its cool, moonlight-like blue fur, was said to be an ancestor to other werewolves, renowned for a strength on a completely different level.

However, due to their extremely low numbers and their role as guardians of the Blue Flower, they were seldom encountered and thus not widely known.

"A werewolf!"

Satanail was witnessing something so shocking that he momentarily forgot about the Blue Flower slipping from his grasp.

What he had thought was merely a large dog began to change shape in a flash of light, transforming into a werewolf right before his eyes.

“You... You’re a bad guy. You reek.”

In a halting, childlike manner, the young werewolf, Rasshu, addressed Satanail.

“So, you’re one of the surviving Blue Werewolves.”

Now covered in blue fur that hadn’t been visible earlier, Rasshu stood in his werewolf form. Satanail quickly realized that Rasshu was indeed a Blue Werewolf, the guardian of the Blue Flower mentioned in the ancient texts.

An ancient clan that had long fought against the minions of the night, now thought extinct.

“Blame your bad luck; the Blue Flower has become a part of you, and now I have no choice but to kill you!”

If Rasshu had been a fully grown adult, Satanail might have considered abandoning the Blue Flower and fleeing.

According to the ancient texts, the Blue Werewolves were born warriors capable of defeating dozens of the night’s minions on their own, making it impossible for Satanail, in his current weakened state, to face them.

But Rasshu appeared to be just a boy.

A not-yet-matured Blue Werewolf, and Satanail himself, a chosen minion of the night reborn as a Dark Elf with stolen True Blood—there was no way he could lose.

“You’re weak. Weaker than Ada.”

“Insolent brat!!! I don’t know who this Ada is, but you’re dead!”

As if reading Satanail’s mind, Rasshu taunted him in his awkward speech, dealing another blow to Satanail’s already shattered pride.

Blinded by rage, Satanail summoned all his remaining strength and charged at Rasshu, who merely crossed his arms in front of him, waiting.

Satanail’s terrifying momentum was relentless.

But Rasshu was unfazed, his mind drifting instead to memories of his mother, now returned to nature.

Somerset’s forests, once called the southern labyrinth, were notoriously perilous a few decades ago, teeming with magical beasts and spirit creatures.

But now, it was a safe haven where children played, thanks to a single Blue Werewolf who had rid the area of all threats to protect her child and the Blue Flower—a secret known to few.

An enormous one-eyed bear, a venomous mist-spewing snake, and countless other creatures that had sought the Blue Flower had all perished, returning to the soil to nourish the forest, a sight Rasshu would never forget.

Swish!

As Satanail charged, Rasshu slashed downward with his crossed arms, as if tearing through the very ground.

“Gah!”

Initially, Satanail thought Rasshu’s stance was madness, incapable of blocking his assault, but then he felt a wind coiling around him.

It wasn’t a gentle breeze but a sharp, slicing wind like a blade.

The Gale of Death.

It was a technique unique to the Blue Werewolf clan, turning wind into cutting blades.

Carefully, he pulled out a small, broken statue resembling a goddess, split in two.

“Could this... be part of the plan as well?”

Alexander murmured cryptically, studying the fragmented statue.

“What’s going on?”

“Sir Rupert is unharmed. Just place him in bed and let him rest alone.”

With Alexander’s assurance, the Earl and Richard sighed in relief.

“Where is this...?”

When Rupert opened his eyes, he was in a place he knew all too well.

Whirring.

The familiar sound of his ancient computer’s fan, always on due to running 24/7.

In front of him sat the tablet he valued nearly as much as his life, on his cluttered desk.

His cozy bed, where he would often fall asleep instantly from exhaustion.

And the kitchen shelf stocked with ramen—a familiar sight indeed. This was undeniably his original home.

“Is this... a dream?”

Rupert—or rather, Sunwoo Hyuk—recalled what had happened just before.

The somewhat embarrassing memory of charging at Satanail to stop him from taking the Blue Flower, only to be knocked out in one blow.

“At least I managed to throw him off once.”

The only silver lining was that he clearly remembered tossing the Blue Flower to Rasshu in his final moments.

Believing that his clever companion had escaped, Sunwoo Hyuk felt reassured.

Still uncertain if he’d truly returned, he instinctively sat down at his computer.

Spending most of his time here, it felt perfectly natural even after so long.

“Ha... This is what I was looking at before I was dragged away?”

A sigh escaped him as he looked at the monitor.

On the screen was the final chapter of the webtoon Youngest Son of the Hwang Family, where a dragon was attacking the imperial palace with its fiery breath—a scene he’d spent an absurd amount of effort on, one he now couldn’t quite fathom.

If he had been a reader, he would have shown up at the artist’s house with a baseball bat instead of leaving hate comments online.

“I really wasn’t in my right mind back then.”

Left without an assistant by the company’s failure to find one, he’d been pulling all-nighters alone to keep up with the series.

When his editor abruptly notified him that the series would end, it was a wonder he hadn’t lost his sanity.

“If I could do it again, I’d give it a different ending.”

Despite his immense success and newfound wealth in the other world, that unresolved ending had continued to haunt him like a thorn in his side.

“Are you sure about that?”

Startled by the sudden voice, Sunwoo Hyuk turned around.

Standing there was a woman.