Chapter 17: Overthinking is a Disease

Bridget was only fifteen years old when he became the chieftain of the Northern tribe. At this age, no one would normally accept him as their leader. Unfortunately, he was too ruthless.

He treated his enemies with cruelty, and he was even harsher on himself.

He could disregard his own bloodied and battered body, still brutally charging into battle.

For a werewolf tribe that relied on fighting for survival, this was a positive trait. However, sometimes it was a terrifying disease. When a warrior could no longer distinguish between enemies and allies, the only outcome was death.

No one would tolerate having a powerful but uncontrollable weapon by their side.

Perhaps it was a stroke of luck. Lucky that Bridget still maintained his sanity, lucky that he still knew who he was and hadn’t lost his way.

However, not having lost his way didn’t mean he never would.

Bridget's current state of losing control was something few in the Northern tribe were aware of. He didn't want those cunning elders to seize his leadership position before he found a solution to his problem.

Thus, Bridget’s condition remained a secret.

Bridget lowered his head to hide his bloodshot eyes. He tapped his fingers on the table to quell the rising impatience. With his other hand, he gently stroked his small wolf.

How strange.

Normally, whenever he went mad, it took a long time for him to return to normal. But now, he discovered something interesting: not only did his little wolf prevent him from going mad, stroking its smooth fur also helped him calm down quickly.

Could it be that he had changed? If he had known earlier that having a pet could support his mental state so much, he would have kept dozens of them by now.

Of course, Bridget knew better than anyone that keeping so many pets during a time of scarce resources was problematic. Not to mention, he knew only the little wolf could help him.

His usually merciless golden eyes unexpectedly softened.

However, it was a bit odd that the target of this gaze was a little wolf.

Although this little wolf was originally a human in disguise, no one knew about it!

Bridget regained his composure. He glanced indifferently at the two foolish men below, his deep voice resonating like a warm melody of nature. However, the content of his words bore no warmth.

"Take them out, crush their legs, and throw them out of the tribe."

"No!!! You can't do this, chieftain!!!" the two ugly men, both in appearance and spirit, screamed in madness.

But unfortunately, while living in the tribe, these two fools had always caused trouble for others. This had made it so that no one in the tribe wanted to help them.

Such a pity for the wicked.

…

Bridget listened indifferently to the screams echoing from outside. He gently stroked the beautiful fur of his pet, satisfied to see the once dirty fur now soft and silky. It was so soft that it seemed to touch his very heart.

The image of a beautiful girl by the stream suddenly flashed in his mind.

He remembered how her long hair had been wet and shimmering in the water, like a beautiful fabric that accentuated her full figure.

Surely… her hair must be as soft as his pet’s, right?

A silly question kept swirling in his mind. Of course, when he met her again, he wouldn’t foolishly say that out loud. He would gently caress her long, glossy hair, touch her soft and fair skin, lose himself in her blue eyes, and together they would fall into the depths of love.

Damn it! He had fallen in love.

He had fallen in love with someone he had only glimpsed.

He didn’t understand why he was acting like a young boy, craving an intense and passionate love.

Perhaps he and she were destined partners, a magnificent pull of fate.

Ha ha.

Bridget mocked himself. He laughed at his bloodstained soul, seeking to bask in love. Even though he knew his thoughts were surprising and irrational, he wanted to believe in them.

How naive.

What if that girl was a spy from a rival tribe, using some dark magic to enchant him?

He didn’t know.

He was torn between reason and heart.

Reason told him to be cautious of everything. The girl’s appearance was too coincidental. Her disappearance was too swift, as if she had been waiting to lure him in and then vanish once her mission was complete.

His heart, on the other hand, eagerly reminded him that it was destiny, fate’s compassion for his loneliness, sending the girl to fill his incomplete heart.

He didn’t know whether to trust his reason or his heart.

His hand never stopped stroking the little wolf. His once solemn eyes became gentler, and he smiled lightly.

Why be confused?

If the girl appeared, he would keep her by his side. If she had ulterior motives, he would make her forget them.

But that depended on whether his feelings would last until then. Who knows, the love spell he had fallen under might suddenly lose its effect, and he would no longer feel infatuated.

Ah, at that time… he would just kill her.

He was a madman.

Never changed.

…

Layla shook her head in discomfort from being petted for too long. She didn’t want her beautiful fur to go bald!

She glanced at the man holding her. Her sharp teeth bared in an attempt to scare his mischievous hand. However, she didn’t realize that in others' eyes, she looked like a pet begging to be petted. She also didn’t know that her sudden transformation had caused this madman to ponder deeply, even deciding on the type of rope to bind her with.

That’s why they say, overthinking is a disease!!! It needs immediate treatment!!!

…

In a place not far from Bridget’s abode.

A girl with short black hair and tanned skin, which highlighted her beautiful figure, making her even more charming, was present. Her skin tone, inherited from her mother, who was a werewolf from elsewhere, made her stand out.

At that moment, the girl was in a mysterious cave, where moans and shameful sounds echoed. Beside her was a strong werewolf man. However, he was tied up and covered in wounds. His hands were bound by a special rope, hard to tear.

The girl sat atop the man, her seductive voice calling someone’s name with excitement. Her graceful movements were like a mesmerizing dance, her scent so alluring it made others lose themselves.

The man bit his lip, preventing sounds of satisfaction from escaping.

As a werewolf who had lost his territory, his pride didn’t allow him to serve the girl like a lowly slave. His consciousness was continuously trampled by her every move.

Until he could no longer think, the unfamiliar name the girl uttered with a passionate tone stuck in his mind.

“…Bridge!”