TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 58: MY HUMILIATION BANQUET

VALORIA WILDEROSE

(WARNING: THIS Chapter CONTAINS HEAVY SCENES OF BULLYING)

The clinking of glass against a spoon draws all eyes to Father—the Alpha—standing at one end of the table, right beside Azrael.

"Tonight, we feast and enjoy ourselves in the presence of the King himself, Lord Azrael, who has decided to grace us with his presence. Long live His Majesty."

"Long live the King!" everyone choruses together.

"We’ve prepared premium entertainment that will suit your fancy, Your Majesty."

On cue, acrobats leap into the scene, surrounding the table as they perform breathtaking tricks that leave the audience in awe within minutes—spitting fire, folding into impossible shapes, and rolling across the floor in fluid motion.

Laughter and applause fill the air.

I sink deeper into myself, avoiding the sight before me—or the heavy, undressing gaze of Ronan that strips away every piece of clothing from my body, one invisible layer at a time.

I feel sick. The smell of food around me makes it worse. Tears sting my eyes.

I want nothing more than to leave, go back to my room in the castle, and lock myself in for an entire week.

"I personally selected your favorite soup, Valoria. You should eat up," Nova chimes sweetly, dragging the only bowl of discolored green liquid on the table toward my plate—fish bones sticking out from the surface.

The rancid smell hits my nose, flipping my stomach. I instantly recognize it.

"This used to be your favorite, remember?" she chuckles, handing me a spoon.

Of course, I remember. It was mystery soup—a vile mixture made from rotting leftovers in the fridge. A game they used to play often, purely for entertainment.

"I—I’m n-n-not hu-hun-gry."

"Nonsense. Don’t be rude to Sister Nova. Eat your meal," Marcella chides, her shoulder shoving roughly into mine.

I reach for the spoon without thinking, acting out of old habit and coercion. I give in, like I always used to when they brought it to my room.

Slowly, I dip my spoon into the liquid, swallowing hard and reminding myself that I’m used to eating filth.

The very worst that could happen is a stomach ache for a few days... I could use that as an excuse to stay indoors, away from them.

"Go on... I’m waiting," Marcella snaps again, giving me another shove to get on with it. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

I scoop the thick, gelatinous liquid that sloshes like jelly and bring it to my mouth without hesitation.

The vile flavor explodes on my tongue, threatening to make me hurl—but I hold it in. I force myself to endure it.

The girls burst out laughing, clapping their hands as Nova takes more pictures.

"You’re absolutely disgusting, you know. I can’t believe you actually ate that. Does His Majesty even know how much of a pig you are?" Marcella sneers.

Her hand falls on my face, brushing strands of hair away from my cheek gently. I flinch at her touch.

"Or maybe he does know... maybe the only reason you’re still alive is because you’re too pathetic to waste a kill on."

Her words slice through me like tiny needles, piercing deeper than skin while I continue eating, forcing down tears.

I know that if I stop, it’ll only get worse. I just need to give them what they want—then they’ll get bored and let me go.

I just need to endure it.

"Looks like your main dish is here," Nova comments with a smirk, glancing behind me.

I turn slightly to see the maid approaching, a bowl of steaming food in her hands. But she doesn’t stop beside me as usual. Instead, she fakes a stumble—hot porridge spilling all over me from behind.

A strangled sound escapes my throat as I bite my lip hard, the pain searing into my skin. It burns. It hurts so much that I can’t even move. But I know—it’s all part of their game.

Part of their mockery.

They burst into laughter. A few guests nearby join in, Ronan included, his laughter barely restrained.

They all watch and snicker, whispering to each other with their eyes fixed on me.

Shame and humiliation choke me. My shoulders hunch lower, tears welling again.

Endure, Valoria...

Endure a little more. If you don’t, it’ll only get worse. Don’t let it get to you.

"Go on... eat your soup," Marcella orders, pushing me toward the half-empty rancid bowl now mixed with bits of spilled porridge. She watches with cruel delight.

I reach for the spoon with trembling hands, but before I can, Nova knocks the bowl over—right into my lap. The foul-smelling liquid splashes onto my already stained dress, soaking me further.

"Oh no, my bad," she feigns remorse, pouting her lips mockingly.

"It’s not your fault, Nova. Valoria’s just a pig. She doesn’t mind eating it off herself."

The tears I’ve been holding back suddenly burst through me in streams, no matter how hard I try to hold them in.

I thought I could endure a bit more. I thought I could bear it. But suddenly, I’m overwhelmed.

"M-May I-I be ex-ex-excused?" I stammer, rising from my seat abruptly—inadvertently drawing all eyes to me from every corner of the table, including Azrael’s.

I don’t even bother looking his way. I don’t care what his expression might be right now—me, covered and burnt in filth, sobbing like a fool.

The last thing I want to see, the one thing that could make all this impossibly worse, would be meeting his eyes... and finding mockery there.

Confirmation that I am a fool.

An idiot, even in my own home.

Unaccepted. Unloved by the very species he calls pathetic. The worst of the worst.

Whispers and chattering ripple through the table. I hear muffled laughter—every sound at my expense, every gaze burning into me.

"Valoria, what is the meaning of this? Interrupting a prestigious meal with your childish antics?" Father’s voice booms, his anger rising as he points that same accusatory finger at me.

I cower, trembling so hard I almost piss myself again. The tears won’t stop, no matter how much I command them to.

"You know the rules. No one leaves until the meal is dismissed," he adds venomously—a silent order to shut up and sit down.

But if I do, it’ll be over.

I’ve already made the mistake of reacting, and now they won’t let me go. Their torment will only grow worse now that they know how much it hurts.

"P-please..." I beg, breathless. I’ll take anything else—anything—but sitting here another second.

"VALORIA!" His fist slams into the table violently, sending a deep vibration through the wood.

I falter backward, flinching. I have no choice.

My eyes drift to Marcella—smiling sweetly beside me, waiting for me to obey. From her expression alone, I can tell how much she’s enjoying this... how much more I’ll suffer if I sit down again.

"Wait, Father," Nova interrupts suddenly, raising her hand. "If Valoria wants to leave now, why don’t we make a wager?"

Father’s gaze shifts to her, his rage softening within seconds.

"If she insists on leaving in the middle of the meal," Nova continues, "then she should perform a little trick for us—something amusing enough to let it slide. Don’t you think?"

"I know!" Ana exclaims from her seat, raising her hand eagerly, desperate to join in. "Why don’t you shift for us, Valoria? It’s been a while since we’ve seen your interesting wolf form."

I stiffen, turning slightly to see her snickering beside Willow—who’s shamelessly pressed against Azrael. I still don’t let my eyes wander anywhere near him.

She knows exactly what she’s asking. Everyone does. They all know about my deformity from birth—the thing I shift into that barely resembles a wolf.

A disgusting, disfigured mutant.

And now she’s asking me to humiliate myself further—to flaunt my disability, just to be allowed to leave. They want me to remember what I am.

They want Azrael to see it too.

"Yes... Valoria," Marcella adds, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "If you want to leave the table, shift for us."

Father remains silent—his silence the confirmation I need. A go-ahead to fulfill their wishes, if I want to get away.

I stay still. Already broken. Already defeated.

I’d told myself I’d do anything, and I meant it. I can’t look more pathetic than I already do, even if everyone—including Azrael—is watching. It doesn’t matter anymore.

At this point, it’s painfully clear—their scorn, their hatred—for the pathetic, hopeless daughter that I am.

"O-o-oka-y," I croak, swallowing my pain.

I let the transformation take over, letting whatever my wolf form is consume me. My human shape twists, changing in fragmented patches.

Sharp claws. Patches of coarse, uneven fur. One side of my teeth grown into jagged fangs, the other clinging desperately to its human shape. Floppy wolf ears too big for my head.

Their initial horrified gasps tell me all I need to know. I’m hideous.

Then comes the laughter—loud, shrill, unrestrained. Fingers point. Faces contort in tears of amusement. They clutch their stomachs from how hilarious my existence is.

The court jester. The family freak.

I’ve heard it all before—but it never hurts any less.

"Ma-may I-I be ex-excused n-now, Father?" I whisper, staring at him in my monstrous state.

He averts his gaze immediately, unable to look at me—his face twisted in disgust. Instead, he waves his hand dismissively, granting me permission to leave.

I take a bow and turn to leave.

Against my will, I meet his eyes for the briefest moment, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t. But I can’t fight the temptation—not when I can feel his gaze boring into me more intently than anyone else’s.

Strange how I know it’s his.

Azrael looks at me plainly—the only one not laughing, not reacting, not saying a single word.

I don’t bother reading into it before walking away.