Last Moon: Rebirth, Love, and the Werewolf Rockstar

"Nah," Mizuki muttered, shaking her head, leaving Nancy looking completely baffled.

"Nah?" Nancy chuckled awkwardly. "What does that even mean?"

"It means no," Mizuki replied, her voice firm but calm. The simple retort hung in the air as Nancy's face twisted into a confused frown.

"Oh, of course, since you've still got that little bug, you should rest. Let's worry about shopping some other time," Nancy said, her tone dripping with condescension. But Mizuki wasn't about to let the moment pass without asserting herself—this was a significant step toward reclaiming control over her life.

"I mean no, I won't go shopping," Mizuki clarified, her steady gaze brooking no argument. Nancy opened her mouth to protest, but Mizuki raised a finger—a quiet signal that there would be no interruption.

"I think by now you should've realized that I'm not really into shopping, and, truth be told, I've never bought anything for myself outside of what's been made for me," she continued deliberately. And it was true. Mizuki's family had always had tailors and seamstresses come to their home, measuring and crafting custom clothes with the finest materials. She had never needed the bustling chaos of malls or stores; her wardrobe was already curated to perfection.

"Ah… yes, yes, you never did," Nancy stammered, her voice faltering as she nodded. Yet Mizuki caught the flash of annoyance in Nancy's eyes and noticed the tension in her clenched fists. Her mind raced—Nancy was fishing for a reason to drag her into another shopping trip. The excuse might have been a change of seasons, or the "princess" needing a new wardrobe. But Mizuki knew the reality: both Nancy and her mother received their custom-made uniforms every year—hardly enviable outfits, but rather a contractual arrangement. As payment for her education, Nancy and her mother had signed agreements to serve Mizuki's family, with Nancy acting as an assistant and her mother as the head housekeeper.

Nancy's extravagant wardrobe, however, was a source of admiration among her friends. They gushed over her impeccable taste, envying every piece. The bitter truth was that Nancy never bought those clothes herself. With a modest salary and an allowance that—even though higher than most—could never truly support her lavish lifestyle, she had mastered the art of convincing Mizuki to foot the bill.

Mizuki knew this all too well, though she had never voiced it aloud. Nancy's insatiable need for validation had gradually evolved into quiet manipulation—a game that Mizuki had unwittingly played along with for far too long. It was yet another layer of their unspoken contract: Nancy took, and Mizuki gave. And in that moment, something inside Mizuki snapped—a flicker of resentment burning brighter than she'd ever allowed herself to feel.

It wasn't merely that Nancy had pretended to be her friend; the painful truth was that Nancy was an opportunist—a user who saw Mizuki as nothing more than a convenient ATM to fuel her extravagant lifestyle. In her past life, Mizuki had never realized how transactional their "friendship" truly was, how Nancy only ever appeared when there was something to gain. Accepting this harsh reality stung deeply: their "friendship" had been nothing more than a shallow means to an end.

Mizuki had given her time, trust, and patience—and in return, Nancy had drained her dry. Worse still, Nancy had tarnished Mizuki's name, speaking ill of her to others behind her back. The truth had become painfully clear: for people like Nancy, companionship wasn't about genuine connection—it was all about finding someone who could afford the life they desired. And Mizuki was done being that someone.

"By the way, why aren't you at work? Isn't it Friday today?" Mizuki asked casually, steering the conversation in a different direction.

Nancy's face shifted, and Mizuki couldn't help but notice a slight tension in her posture. Since graduating from business school, Nancy had started working for her mother's company as an assistant—hence the uniform obligations. Her mother oversaw the creative departments, and, like most offices, they followed the usual nine-to-five routine. It was barely ten in the morning now—Nancy should still have been at work.

"I—I took the day off," Nancy stammered before quickly regaining her composure. "I told Auntie I'd visit you. We usually go shopping around this time of year, and I thought I could take you out for some fresh air since you've been feeling under the weather."

Mizuki's eyes almost rolled. Once again, Nancy had managed to steer the conversation back to shopping. But Mizuki kept her frustration in check. After all, what would Nancy flaunt in front of her friends if she couldn't buy new clothes? And the horror—imagine Nancy being seen in last year's outfits. Nancy's image was everything.

"Oh, too bad I'm still feeling a little off," Mizuki replied smoothly, glancing at her watch as though surprised. "Oh, look—it's still only ten in the morning. Since we can't go after all, maybe you should head back to work. You know how strict Mom is about attendance. If you don't clock in a full workday, you don't get your bonus."

Mizuki nearly chuckled at the look that crossed Nancy's face—wide-eyed and horrified. It was hard to contain the satisfaction bubbling inside her. Mizuki's mother had always been strict about attendance, and Nancy, more often than not, found ways to leave early, using Mizuki's company as an excuse. As a result, she never received her attendance bonus. She should have been excused today since she came to see Mizuki, but Mizuki was kicking her out, meaning she needed to get back to work.

At that moment, Nancy's voice trembled as she mumbled, "I... yes," before turning to leave, unable to mask the discomfort written all over her face. Mizuki watched with a cold, satisfied gaze as Nancy hurried to the door. She knew Nancy wouldn't give up easily—this was merely the sting of being rejected for the first time. Mizuki had said no, and Nancy was clearly struggling to process it. But Mizuki wasn't going to back down.

Her eyes narrowed as she silently reminded herself: Nancy needed to get used to it. Mizuki Wolfe, the true princess, was reclaiming her castle—her life, her choices, her future were no longer for sale. And Nancy Anderson, the pauper who had clung to a false image of entitlement, would have to come to terms with her real circumstances.