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Desmond Hall had never been one for gossip.
But when he offhandedly mentioned that Wolfgang Akire—the Wolfgang Akire, the highest-ranked lawyer in the country—was a hybrid? Well, Ulysses Wilhelm couldn’t let that sit.
It had been a casual remark, said over drinks, Desmond swirling his glass as if what he was saying wasn’t life-changing.
"Yeah, he’s one of us," Desmond had muttered. "Sheep hybrid. Or was..."
Ulysses had nearly dropped his journal. "What do you mean, was?"
Desmond exhaled sharply, tilting his head back. "He filed down his horns, burned away the wool, dyed his hair—everything. You’d never know unless you got close enough." He smirked slightly, resting his chin in his palm. "Which I did."
That caught Ulysses' attention.
Desmond shrugged at the unspoken question. "High-profile case. I was his bodyguard for a few months. One thing led to another, and… well." He chuckled, taking a slow sip, finishing his drink. "Let’s just say I got the opportunity to take a good look at what he was before he carved it away again."
Ulysses sat with that information for a long time.
And then, a week later, he was standing in Wolfgang Akire’s office, staring at the man who had mutilated himself to fit into a world that had never wanted him.
"You should be fighting with us."
Ulysses’ voice rang sharp through the dimly lit office, the weight of his words pressing against the space between them. His clipped wings twitched at his back, a constant reminder of what had been stolen from him.
Wolfgang Akire, seated behind a pristine mahogany desk, looked as unreadable as ever. The dull navy of his dyed hair framed his sharp features, his lilac eyes barely betraying anything beneath the cold exterior he had perfected over the years.
Ulysses continued, "You’ve done the impossible. You’ve made it to the top. Do you even understand what that means?”
Wolfgang knew exactly what it meant. It meant power. It meant control. It meant safety.
He took a measured breath, schooling his expression into something neutral. “I understand more than you ever could.”
Ulysses let out a bitter laugh, pushing himself back. “You say that, but you don’t get it, Wolfgang. You chose to cut yourself down.”
Something in Wolfgang’s jaw tightened. “You think I had a choice?”
“Yes.”
The word was sharp, unforgiving, spoken with the conviction of someone who had never known what it was like to have their existence picked apart under a microscope.
Wolfgang clenched his hands beneath the desk.
Ulysses didn’t understand. He couldn’t. The world had directly taken from Ulysses, had stripped him of his ability to fly, had forced him to live with mutilation that was not of his own making. And that was cruel. That was unforgivable.
But Wolfgang had watched what happened to hybrids who didn’t fit the mold.
He had seen it firsthand.
"You expect me to throw away everything I’ve built?" Wolfgang’s tone was calm, measured, the voice of a man who had long since made peace with his decisions.
Ulysses let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I expect you to stop pretending you don’t hate yourself for what you’ve done."
Something flickered behind Wolfgang’s gaze, quick and fleeting, but Ulysses caught it.
Guilt.
He knew he had struck something deep.
"You chose this," Ulysses continued, stepping forward. "The rest of us had no choice. Our wings were taken, our bodies butchered. But you—" His hands curled into fists. "You filed your horns down. You burned away your wool. You dyed your hair to look human, and for what?"
Wolfgang sighed, exhaling slowly. "For power."
Ulysses clenched his jaw.
"You think you’re helping?" His voice was low, dangerous. "You think cutting yourself apart to be palatable to humans is going to fix anything?"
Wolfgang met his gaze, unwavering. "I think I can do more from the inside than you ever could from the outside."
Ulysses recoiled, his clipped wings twitching.
"Is that what you tell yourself at night?" he spat. "That it was worth it? That the pain, the self-erasure, the lies—" His breath shook. "You think it was necessary?"
Wolfgang’s fingers curled slightly where they rested on the desk.
"It was necessary," he said, voice quiet but firm. "You think I don’t know what happens to hybrids who refuse to hide? You think I haven’t seen them slaughtered, taken apart, sold?"
Ulysses’ stomach twisted. He knew. Of course, he knew.
But still—
"You had power," he hissed. "You could’ve been something real for us. And instead, you threw it away to be a perfect little human puppet."
Wolfgang closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling through his nose.
"I still have power," he said when he opened them again. "And I still have control."
"At what cost?"
Silence.
A long, heavy silence that made the air feel thick, suffocating.
Wolfgang didn’t answer.
Because they both knew the answer was everything.
Ulysses let out a slow, sharp breath, stepping back. His fingers twitched toward his journal, but he didn’t write anything down. There was nothing to record here—nothing but the bitter taste of disappointment.
"I came here hoping you’d prove Desmond wrong," he admitted, shaking his head. "Hoping you’d be better than this."
Wolfgang’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smirk if it weren’t so hollow. "Then you were naive."
Ulysses turned toward the door, his clipped wings dragging uselessly at his back.
He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. His clipped wings ached, as if resenting the conversation.
He knew the world was cruel. He had lived it.
But Wolfgang had chosen this cruelty for himself.
“I used to respect you,” Ulysses muttered, shaking his head. “Now, I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking at.”
Wolfgang didn’t look offended. He just sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Then open your eyes, Ulysses.”
A scoff.
"You should go," Wolfgang murmured, his voice quieter now. "Before you say something you’ll regret."
Ulysses doesn't look back.
"I already regret wasting my time on you."
With that final statement, he walked out, leaving Wolfgang alone in his office, spiraling with the weight of his own choices.
Regret was a luxury Wolfgang couldn't afford, and yet, here he was, drowning in it.