บท 386: Racist Amael

When I said that she hated being touched, I wasn't lying or exaggerating. For her, it was more than a preference—it was pathological.

She despised, loathed, and abhorred any physical contact, whether it came from males, females, humans, werewolves, vampires, or even other elves. The number of people she allowed near her could be counted on one hand, and none of them were male. Her own brothers weren't even exceptions. The only person I knew she tolerated was her mother and someone else who was also her close family.

Yes, I am speaking of Alvara Freydis Teraquin.

I am a half High Human and half human, and I had just caught her arm.

Thank God it was covered with a white glove; otherwise, it would have ended in a bloody fight.

Still, I had touched her.

Our positions were quite awkward. I was standing while she, caught completely off guard, was on the verge of falling, her body diagonally opposed to the ground, held up only by my grip on her arm.