The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 111

**Chapter 111**

In the arena bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, one would expect a serene silence to settle over the audience, a soft lull following the exhilarating performance. Yet, the atmosphere was anything but tranquil. The livestream chat, displayed prominently on the hovering holo-screens that adorned the outer plaza, erupted into a cacophony of chaos, each comment a sharp jab in the unfolding drama.

The comments surged forth like a wild pack of wolves, roused into a frenzy:

[Was that the Moonvale heir just now? Did the eldest son of the lunar house try to shut the stream?]

[So arrogant—does he think that just because he’s wealthy, he can control the entire continent?]

[Someone’s guilty. Why else would he rush to cut the feed?]

[I came here because of the trending topic. Did Celestine Ward really steal a dance? Isn’t she supposed to be the prodigy of her generation?]

[I’m just a neutral wolf. Even I’ve heard she’s a genius. This has to be a misunderstanding… right?]

[Misunderstanding my tail. The timing and movement breakdowns are identical.]

[Or perhaps someone jealous forged evidence to frame her.]

[You can’t wake a wolf pretending to be asleep.]

Yet, the tone of the comments hadn’t always been so hostile. Just moments before, the screens had been flooded with adoration, a testament to Celestine’s talent:

[Our Luna-blessed goddess is so beautiful tonight!]

[Born with beauty, talent, lineage—what flaw did the Moonmother forget to give her?]

[Watching her dance is like witnessing the Moon-goddess sculpt creation itself.]

[Tonight’s choreography is breathtaking—unreal!]

[Celestine Ward helped choreograph the piece! We always knew she danced like a celestial, but we didn’t expect her to compose like one.]

[Our academy’s dance wolves are all watching. So many masters in the audience too.]

[Didn’t expect a full broadcast—Celestine must really love us.]

Thanks to the relentless campaign by the Moonvale Pack, Celestine’s first solo performance had drawn in tens of thousands of viewers the moment the stream went live. Before the final piece, “Chasing the Wind,” she had been revered like a rising moon, the embodiment of grace and talent.

But then—

One dance later, the tide shifted dramatically.

As the familiar name and structure of the dance appeared in a rival video circulating online, the barrage of comments froze for three agonizing seconds—an eternity in the wolf-net.

And when Celestine asserted that she was the original creator…

The pack’s rage exploded.

[I cannot believe the thickness of this wolf’s hide.]

[She didn’t even bother changing the name.]

[Genius? Please. Her reputation has always exceeded her skill. I bet she didn’t choreograph the others either.]

[Embarrassing. International wolf-dance masters are here tonight. This is humiliation on a continental scale.]

[To be honest, the original dancer’s emotion was far better.]

The performance had long since concluded. The audience should have dispersed, but no one moved.

Wolves pulled out their comm-crystals, eyes keen and focused, tracking the real-time interview unfolding onstage like hunters scenting fresh blood. In the Moonvale section, Alpha Remus and Luna Evelyn sat rigid as stone, feeling every whispered accusation like thorny brambles against their pelts. Their youngest, Lykos, was less restrained—his hackles bristled, golden eyes flashing with indignation.

“That dancer must have stolen my sister’s creation first!” he growled at a wolf seated in the row ahead. “And then dared to accuse Celestine!”

The spectator scoffed, “Oh? Then bring your evidence. Their receipts are far more complete than yours.”

And indeed—evidence had flooded the net at an unnaturally swift pace.

During Celestine Ward’s performance, an A-list wolf-star—who had once been a dancer before switching to the entertainment packs—had reposted a video titled “Chasing the Wind.”

And it hadn’t been sudden.

The wolf-star had teased it for half a month, captivating her fans with tales of discovering an extraordinary piece crafted by a younger pack-sister. Her fanbase, already enamored with dance, buzzed with excitement.

Tonight they finally witnessed it—

and it was breathtaking.

Once leading wolves and dance scholars from multiple packs shared it, the video soared into the upper echelons of the continent’s trending topics.

Her pupils contracted sharply.

Her.

That wolf-girl.

That wretched little omega had kept a backup?

But she forced her claws to retract, digging them into her palms, fighting against the rising tide of panic. She had already destroyed the surveillance footage inside the studio. There should have been no proof left.

Taking a shaky breath, she allowed tears to gloss her eyes, her frail posture evoking the helplessness of a cornered doe-wolf.

“…Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I do know her.”

The entire hall erupted—both the physical crowd and the digital audience.

[She admitted it!]

[So she DID steal it.]

[Years of admiration gone in a second.]

[My devotion and money wasted—this is betrayal.]

Even Damon’s brows furrowed deeply as he stared at her, disbelief etched across his features.

But Celestine pressed on, her voice rising with newfound determination, flipping the narrative in an instant.

“But I met her only once.”

Her breath hitched, emotions swirling within her like a tempest, carefully crafted fragility spilling forth.

“That day, I suddenly had a surge of inspiration and went to a nearby studio to practice. After I finished dancing, I saw a girl behind the glass wall filming me. Because the dance was meant as a surprise for my audience, I asked her not to release it. She swore she wouldn’t. She even said she was my fan. She asked for my signature…”

Her chest heaved, as if she struggled to draw breath. Her wolf-scent faltered into a trembling, sickly sweetness, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding her.

Damon immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her as she leaned into him, offering her the support she desperately needed.

Fenrir positioned himself firmly before her, his aura expanding to create a protective barrier, pushing reporters back a full meter, shielding Celestine from their relentless scrutiny.