Monster Contract: My Pets Will Bring the Apocalypse

The Wolf Beneath the Skin

Seojin woke before his alarm. Not jolted or groggy, just there, awake, eyes open to the faint blue of early morning threading through the blinds.

The apartment was still. The hum of the fridge, the occasional thump of a pipe, but otherwise… silence.

He sat up, dragging the blanket off his legs. His uniform, freshly ironed, hung on the back of his door. Next to it, draped carefully on the same hook, was the jacket Mirae had given him.

Black. Sleek. A little big in the shoulders, but it carried a weight he didn't want to take off.

The insignia on the back — a white fang curled like a crescent moon — caught the early light just barely. It looked like it was breathing with him. Below it, stitched in faded thread across the sleeve:

OBSIDIAN FANG: FIGHT WITH TEETH

He ran his fingers over it once. Then twice.

"I look stupid, don't I," he muttered to no one.

From the rug near his closet, a familiar grumble stirred.

Fenrir stretched lazily, his smaller form barely as tall as a beagle, but somehow still regal. His golden eyes cracked open, slits of molten judgment.

"You always look stupid," Fenrir said, voice rasping in Seojin's head like it came through a tunnel of snow. "But no more than usual."

Seojin smirked, buttoning his collar. "Think you can stay in Storage today?"

Fenrir's ears twitched. "Why hide me now?"

Seojin hesitated at the mirror. He tilted his head, adjusted the coat so the collar sat just right.

"I want it to matter when you show up. Let it land."

Fenrir gave a sound between a snort and a low growl. "As long as it's not long. I grow impatient in the dark."

"You'll survive."

"I already survived. That's the point."

Seojin pulled on his shoes, grabbed his bag, and stood for a moment at the threshold. The jacket hugged his frame differently than the uniform alone. Like armor. Or maybe like skin that finally fit.

He opened the door to morning.

And walked out like someone who hadn't just barely existed the week before.

The courtyard was buzzing with beasts.

They lounged across steps and perched on ledges, coiled under benches and followed behind students like shadows with eyes. There were dogs with plated spines, lizards that shimmered like oil, ravens with too many eyes. Some floated. Some left scorch marks where they stepped.

Seojin stepped through the gate.

Heads turned.

He didn't walk faster. Didn't slow down either. Just one step, then the next.

Whispers bloomed like vines behind him.

"Is that Han Seojin?"

"Wait, seriously? He bonded?"

"No way, wasn't he the zero percent guy?"

"Why's he got a guild jacket? Is that real?"

"Obsidian Fang, that's a real guild, isn't it? Like not top-tier, but…"

He heard all of it. Every word scraped past his ears and lodged somewhere behind his eyes.

But none of it stuck.

He walked taller than he had in years. His spine remembered how to be straight. The jacket was light, but it held him together.

A few students moved aside instinctively as he passed. Just an inch or two — enough.

He wasn't respected yet. That much was obvious. The murmurs weren't reverent, just confused. Suspicious.

But he was no longer a ghost in the halls.

They saw him now.

"Look who finally got tired of crawling."

The voice stopped him cold.

Smooth, familiar. That mock-friendly tone like syrup poured over rusted nails.

Seojin turned.

Choi Minjae stood by the old courtyard fountain, flanked by two of his usual lapdogs — one with red streaks in her hair and a wolf-ape curled around her leg like a scarf, the other with a shield beast in the shape of a floating eye.

Minjae smiled wide. Too wide. His uniform looked tailored, sharp creases. A tiny black bolt-pattern badge shimmered on his collar, the mark of the Lightning Guild.

His bonded beast was a sleek, long-legged cat with arcs of electricity skipping through its fur, lay curled under the bench, yawning.

Minjae walked forward casually, clapping Seojin on the back with enough force to jolt his shoulder.

"Didn't think they gave out jackets for charity cases."

Seojin didn't flinch. Not this time.

He adjusted the strap of his bag, kept his gaze level.

"I'm not looking for a fight, Minjae."

Minjae's grin twitched. "Nah, of course not. Just wondering who signed off on a loser."

His tone wasn't cruel. That's what made it worse. It was effortless — like he'd rehearsed a dozen ways to remind Seojin where he belonged, and this was just the warm-up.

Seojin stepped forward, trying to brush past. He didn't need this. Not today.

Then came the foot.

Subtle. Practiced. Seojin didn't even see it until it hooked under his shin.

He fell hard.

Elbow scraped stone. Bag clattered. Jacket twisted around him like a trap.

Laughter burst around the courtyard. Not everyone. But enough.

Some just watched — some turned away like the sound was too loud to be associated with.

Minjae crouched beside him, voice dipped in fake sympathy.

"Damn, still clumsy. Need a hand?"

He reached out.

Seojin stared at the offered hand.

His fingers curled into fists. Something inside his chest… shifted. It started as a tingle—sharp, electric—like ice sliding down his spine. He heard a rumbling in the silence, a low vibration of warning that felt miles deep.

A cold weight pressed into his bones. His head tilted upward. His vision sharpened—no, changed. Light turned white-hot, edges etched with frost. The world slowed.

He couldn't breathe fast enough but he didn't need to.

He realized he wasn't breathing. He couldn't will himself to move—his eyes locked on Minjae's face as though they pulled him by threads.

Everything else faded. The laughter, the murmurs, the animals, the courtyard—they blurred into an echo of a dream. Only Minjae and his goddamn pathetic sneer remained real.

And the hand reaching out, as if he needed yet another propped-up charity case.

But the hand wasn't charity. It was a knife pressed to his throat.

Another pull in his mind. A growl gathered in the back of his head. Vibrated against his skull. Spread to his throat. It was raw power. Something ancient.

Something hungry.

He watched as his own body reacted. His knees springing forward, gripping Minjae's collar. His fingers tightening around Minjae's throat.

He tried to think. Tried to say stop.

His hands kept going. His eyes stared into Minjae's.

Who are you to turn me into prey?

Words formed in his voice. But it wasn't his voice. It was Fenrir's—deep and cornered and savage. It echoed in his head, but it came out of his mouth.

"Mock me again, worm," the voice said, "and I'll peel the marrow from your bones."

Minjae's eyes shot wide. His friends backed away with yanks and lifted hands.

Seojin—no, Fenrir-drunk—pressed harder.

Voice still not his own: "Look at me wrong and I'll drag you to hell. Is that clear?"

In the courtyard hush, it felt like thunder answered.

The crack beneath both of them sounded like ancient stone fracturing.

Around them, beasts shrank away. Some scampered off. Others flicked tails behind them, watching with weird, tense respect.

Minjae's voice trembled. "Y-yes," he stammered. "C-clear. I'm... fine. I'm fine, okay."

Seojin's arm twitched. The pressure stopped. He let Minjae drop to the ground in a heap.

Minjae gulped and scooted backwards. His knees scraped the stone.

Seojin blinked and pushed away. His entire body felt numb. His skin burned. He staggered upright, fighting to pull back into himself.

He looked at his hands slowly. His eyes were normal again.

He didn't say anything.

He just turned and walked, coat flaring with his steps, lantern-lit morning on his shoveled hair, the students clearing a silent path as though he was a ghost in police tape.

Footsteps echoed behind him, but no one touched him. No one followed.

The courtyard doors slid shut with a hiss as he passed through.

He stumbled into the hallway. His heart thudded so loud he thought every student in every class could hear.

He stared at the ceiling until his vision stopped rolling. Then he leaned a shoulder against the wall, jaw aching.

"Why?" he whispered, glancing at the black jacket on his shoulders. The fang emblem felt heavy now.

He sank onto the floor and curled his knees to his chest.

Fenrir emerged from his storage core like smoke. His fur was still that sleek midnight blur, but his eyes had a new edge—cold, distant, ancient.

Seojin stared up.

"You did that."

Fenrir snorted.

I couldn't allow you to be treated in such a manner.

"You—" Seojin closed his eyes, rocking back slightly. "You attacked him."

Fenrir's voice softened.

He tested you.

Seojin swallowed.He humiliated me. People laughed.

Fenrir dipped his head. That won't ever happen again and if it does I'll ensure it never happens again.

Seojin shook his head. "I—I didn't want that."

Fenrir took a step closer. The air around him shifted.

It wasn't about you, it was about pride. Survival.

Seojin rubbed his forehead. "But it… it didn't feel like me. It felt like you."

Fenrir's stance softened. He lowered to sit a paw just beside Seojin.

Because it is me. We are one.

Seojin stared at the wolf's head. The rug trembled beneath Fenrir's weight.

"I don't know how to separate us anymore."

Fenrir curled a paw around Seojin's ankle.

Then learn. Or don't.

Seojin inhaled. The first time he'd freaked out, the first time he almost hurt someone he used to call a friend. He reached into his coat and pressed the side of it—mental override.

He watched Fenrir's form blur. With faint shimmer he faded into the storage orb at his chest. Silence again fell.

He closed his eyes for a long moment.

He didn't know what he was anymore.

He stood.

Rubble littered part of the hallway—someone had been renovating. He brushed off his uniform.

He forced himself to walk forward.

One class at a time.

One foot in front of the other.

He didn't speak. He didn't explain. He didn't know how.