The Lycan King’s Human Bride

Chapter 1

Layla

...

They say that long ago, humans and werewolves lived side by side, relying on one another while building strong ties through trade and cooperation between their kingdoms.

But human greed—and the betrayals that followed—gradually eroded the trust of the werewolves. In time, that greed led to a devastating tragedy, one that sparked a brutal war and took countless werewolf lives.

After that, the wise Lycan King used ancient magic to erase all memory of their existence from humanity, allowing the werewolves to retreat and live in isolation on a hidden continent protected by powerful enchantments.

That was the essence of the story in the book I held in my hands—the one I found in the old storage room behind my grandmother’s house. A tragic love story between a human and a werewolf, bound by a forbidden fate.

It was my favorite book.

I had read it over and over again, even when my hands trembled and my eyes struggled to focus.

My name is Layla Luris.

Right now, I am lying weakly in a hospital bed. My face has grown painfully thin, my skin tinged with a bluish pallor, and my hair has fallen out so much that barely anything remains.

The doctor told me I don’t have much time left.

About one month.

No tears fall anymore. I’ve already accepted my fate. The only thing I want now… is to leave this hospital and see my husband.

The man I’ve been married to for two years.

The man I’ve loved since I was very young.

At twenty-eight, all I want is to leave behind the best memory I can with him.

“Mrs. Luris, are you sure about this?”

Dorothy’s voice was gentle. She was the maid I had recently hired to help care for me during my time in the hospital.

I turned to her and offered a faint smile.

“It’s alright… I really miss my husband. I want to surprise him. He must be busy, so… I just want to make him happy for a little while.”

I smiled as I imagined the look on his face.

The only man I love.

My entire world.

“Very well, Mrs. Luris,” Dorothy replied softly, lowering her head. She stepped behind me and began pushing my wheelchair.

I’m too weak now. I don’t even have the strength to walk for long.

As the wheels rolled forward, I caught glimpses of myself in the mirrors along the hallway.

I barely recognized my own reflection.

Slowly, I lifted my hand and touched my face, falling silent.

What if… he doesn’t love me anymore?

What if my husband no longer loves me because I’ve become so ugly—so thin, so pale?

I’m not as beautiful as I used to be.

Surely… his feelings would change because of how I look now.

That thought consumed me for a moment, tightening painfully around my chest—but I quickly shook my head.

No.

Desmon Jones would never stop loving me.

He promised he would love me forever… and I’ve held onto that promise with everything I have.

Before I knew it, I was already seated inside my luxury car. Dorothy was driving while I quietly stared out at the passing streets.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

My heart pounded uncontrollably.

It had been two weeks since I last saw him. I had undergone several painful surgeries, and now, as I clenched my hands, I felt like a young girl again—restless, hopeful, and unable to wait to see the man I love.

When we arrived at the house, I immediately noticed his car—the one I had bought for him on his birthday last year.

That meant he was home.

Not at the office.

My fingers tightened.

Two weeks without seeing him, and my heart is already racing like this…

I let Dorothy guide my wheelchair as we entered my grand mansion.

Yes, I come from a wealthy family.

The Luris family—the owners of Luris Corp, a powerful and renowned company. I’ve never lacked anything in life.

Everything my husband has—his work, his status—it all came from me.

Still, my heart wouldn’t calm down.

Something about the house felt different.

The servants were nowhere to be seen, even though there should have been many of them around.

But it didn’t bother me.

All my attention was on one place—

my bedroom.

The place where Desmon and I slept together, where we shared countless conversations.

“Dorothy, I’ll go in by myself. You should go have lunch first,” I said softly.

I waited until her footsteps faded into the distance.

Then, gathering all the strength I had left, I slowly stood up.

I didn’t want to face my husband in a wheelchair.

I wanted to look… at least a little beautiful. A little like the woman I used to be.

I forced a smile onto my face and gently touched my cheeks, hoping that in his eyes, I would still look pretty.

But the moment I opened the bedroom door—

my entire world seemed to freeze.

“Babe… harder… you’re breaking me—”

“Oh… how shameless… doing something this wild on the bed you share with your wife…”

A woman’s voice echoed from inside, breathless and unrestrained, as if she were completely lost in something sinful.

My heart stopped.

I knew that voice.

Cassie.

My best friend since middle school.

The one I trusted more than anyone.

All the strength drained from my body. I stood there, frozen, as if my soul had been ripped from me.

My heart felt like it was about to explode.

“Don’t talk about that sick woman. She’s going to die soon anyway. Once she’s gone, everything she owns will be mine.”

“Just looking at her face disgusts me. Even hearing her name makes me want to throw up. I hope she dies quickly.”

My husband’s voice.

Each word cut into me like a blade.

How could this be?

How is this even possible?

This has to be a dream.

It isn’t real.

My body trembled violently as I gripped the door handle so tightly my fingers turned pale.

I couldn’t accept it.

I refused to accept it.

The surge of anger and pain swelling inside my chest—so intense it felt like I might shatter—drove me to shove the door open with all the strength I had, even though I no longer knew how to cry in a moment like this.

“Ah!”

Cassie’s scream rang out as she lay completely naked on my bed, startling Desmon, who immediately snapped his head toward the door in shock.

The fury burning inside me dulled the pain in my body, turning it into nothing more than a distant sensation. Despite my frail frame, my pale face, and the weakness threatening to drag me down at any second, I forced myself forward and reached for the flower vase on the table beside me.

“Layla, why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be at the hospital all day?” Desmon snapped, hastily pulling on his bathrobe.

Not once did he try to explain the disgusting affair I had just witnessed. Instead, he questioned why I hadn’t stayed where I belonged—as if I should have simply rotted away in that hospital.

As for Cassie…

I could see the faint curve of a smile on her lips, as though she had been waiting for this exact moment—for me to find out, so she could finally take this worthless man from me.

“Layla!”

Desmon’s voice echoed sharply through the room as I staggered forward, something wild and unhinged taking hold of me while I clutched the vase in my trembling hand.

I didn’t want to hear anything.

No excuses.

No explanations.

I wanted them dead.

Both of them.

My gaze locked onto Desmon, sharp and filled with madness, as he frowned and stepped closer. And the moment he stood right in front of me—

I swung the vase.

But I was too weak.

Far too weak.

He caught my wrist effortlessly and wrenched the vase from my grasp.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! How dare you look at me like that with those disgusting eyes!”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re hideous! You reek of medicine!”

“Why don’t you just die in that hospital already, you pathetic woman?!”

His voice was loud, shameless, and utterly cruel.

Something inside me snapped completely.

I couldn’t even form proper words anymore. All I could do was scream—and claw at his face.

“How dare you! How dare you!”

“Aaaa—!”

“I’ll kill both of you!”

“Aaaa—!”

I screamed until my throat felt like it was tearing apart, until it burned as though it were bleeding from within. But Desmon, his face scratched and stinging, lost his temper—

—and then—

BAM.

The vase in his hand came crashing down against my head.

Pain exploded through me.

My body collapsed onto the floor as blood immediately began to pour, spreading beneath me.

Lying there, I stared up at the ceiling of my bedroom, and for the first time—

tears fell.

Warm blood pooled around my head as my vision blurred, fading in and out, and I bit down hard on my lip, desperately trying to cling to what little consciousness I had left.

I don’t want to die.

I refuse to die.

I screamed with everything in me, my chest tightening as if it might burst—but no sound came out. My voice was gone, swallowed by the darkness creeping in.

My vision dimmed further.

And the last thing I saw…

was the faint smile on Desmon’s face.

NO! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!

LET ME KILL THEM!

NO—

AAAAA—

I screamed, but my voice still wouldn’t come out. My eyes burned, bloodshot and wide, as if they might burst—but in the end, death proved stronger than my rage… stronger than my hatred.

That day—

I was killed by my own husband.

The man who had just betrayed me with my best friend.

“Ah!”

I gasped sharply as I jolted awake, my chest tightening painfully as I sat up and clutched it, struggling to breathe.

My heart was racing wildly, as though it had forgotten how to beat.

Instinctively, I reached up and touched my head—

There was no wound.

No blood.

Everything was… fine.

“Thank God… it was just a dream,” I whispered in relief, letting out a long breath, even though the pain still lingered vividly in my memory—the crushing blow, the blood, the silent scream that never escaped my throat.

“Huh?”

I frowned.

This wasn’t the hospital.

Nor was it my bedroom.

The room around me was grand, yet carried an ancient elegance, filled with intricate carvings and warm, luminous tones.

Slowly, I turned to the side—

—and there, I saw a round mirror framed with delicate, ornate designs.

My eyes widened.

“I…”

The face staring back at me—

It was mine.

But younger, healthier and... Beautiful.

“This is… my face from when I was still young… My hair… it’s thick, long, and wavy again…”

“What is happening?”

Panic surged through me, my heart pounding violently against my chest as I jumped off the bed... and landed without pain.

No weakness, noo trembling.

It felt as though I had returned to when I was nineteen.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sudden sound startled me. I was still overwhelmed by my reflection, my excitement and confusion tangled together, when a voice came from outside the door—

“Princess Swan, Alpha Hendry Gargan wishes to see you.”

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

I frowned, still unable to process what was happening, and lightly slapped my cheeks.

“Am I still dreaming…?” I murmured.

But then fear crept in.

What if this really was a dream?

What if I had already died… killed by Desmon?

My face turned pale, my body swaying as dread overtook me, my knees nearly giving out—

—and then...

BAM!

The door burst open violently.

“LAYLA SWAN! How dare you punish Nagia all night?! I swear I’ll kill you for this, Layla!”

“You ungrateful human!”

The man who stormed in was unfamiliar to me.

He was handsome, but his eyes were filled with overwhelming hatred and fury.

I frowned slightly, trying to make sense of it all.

“Nagia… Layla Swan… Alpha Hendry Gargan… why do those names sound so familiar…?” I whispered under my breath.

And then...

it hit me.

“Ah—!”

“Don’t tell me…”

“I’ve… entered the book I was reading before I died?”

“Huh?!”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, my eyes widening in shock.

Alpha Hendry Gargan—and the woman beside him, who looked like she had been crying—both stared at me in surprise.

But the fury in his eyes didn’t fade.

Not even a little.

...