The Mind-Reading Mate: Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me? Chapter 24: The King’s Beautiful Gift

The maid carefully carried in a fresh set of steaming hot tea. As she poured it into Primrose’s cup, her eyes couldn’t help but flicker toward the Lycan King.

He looked so ... different from usual.

The King of Beasts, who spent most of his days in the Training Ground, wielding weapons and commanding soldiers, was now sitting in the greenhouse, sipping chamomile tea with the Queen, surrounded by the soft fragrance of blooming flowers.

It was such an absurdly delicate scene that it completely clashed with his usual fearso image.

"The cup is full," Primrose pointed out as the tea began to spill over the rim.

"I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty!" The maid, whose rabbit ears twitched atop her head, bowed repeatedly, looking terrified over such a small mistake. "I didn’t an to!"

Inside her mind, she panicked.

[Oh, crap. I’ve only been working here for three months! If I get fired, how will I afford my sister’s dicine?!]

[N-No! That’s not even the worst-case scenario! What if they decide to behead ?!]

Primrose frowned.

Was Edmund usually so harsh with the maids that she imdiately thought she deserved to be fired—or worse, beheaded?

Yet Edmund hadn’t said a word. He didn’t react at all. He simply sat there, absentmindedly staring at the hand he had just used to stroke his wife’s soft skin.

"Don’t worry about it," Primrose said gently, offering the maid a small smile. "Just pour another cup."

The maid froze, her ears twitching in shock.

[That’s it? I thought Her Majesty would throw her tea at .]

... Wait. What?

"I—I’m truly sorry, Your Majesty," the maid stamred, bowing so many tis it made Primrose dizzy. Her hands trembled slightly as she poured the tea into a new cup, extra careful not to spill a single drop this ti.

Once she finished, she gave one last deep bow before practically running out of the greenhouse, leaving Primrose alone with Edmund.

The silence that followed was ... odd.

The atmosphere grew slightly awkward. Edmund wasn’t the type of man who felt the need to fill every silence with words.

If Primrose stayed silent, then he would remain quiet as well.

However, the silence only applied to him because Primrose could still hear the noisy thoughts running through his mind.

[So, my wife likes scones with strawberry jam. I need to rember that.]

Edmund’s eyes followed her every movent—the way she took the strawberry jam, how her lips parted as she took a bite, the delicate way she dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

[My wife eats so gracefully, so delicately ... unlike a beast like .]

Primrose nearly rolled her eyes. The man sitting before her was the infamous Lycan King, a ruthless beast feared across the land, yet here he was, sulking because he thought he was too much of a beast to eat scones properly.

Unable to bear the awkward atmosphere any longer, Primrose finally spoke. "I didn’t know you enjoyed spending ti in the greenhouse, Your Majesty."

"This is my first ti," Edmund replied curtly.

She blinked several tis, tilting her head. Did he really an he had never set foot inside the greenhouse before?

Did he hate flowers?

[The greenhouse was only built two weeks ago, and I haven’t had ti to co here.]

What? Two weeks ago?

That explained why the greenhouse felt oddly misplaced in the palace gardens. It hadn’t always been here because it was newly constructed.

But then, why did he suddenly decide to build a greenhouse?

"Your first ti?" Primrose pretended not to know. "Do you not like flowers?"

Edmund’s expression didn’t change. "They’re fine."

Primrose’s eye twitched slightly. With every question, his responses grew shorter and more clipped, like he was trying to escape the conversation entirely.

[Flowers don’t suit .]

Oh. So he really did hate flowers.

But honestly, what had she expected?

Edmund was a warrior, a beast who thrived in bloodshed and battle. The scent of steel and war suited him far more than the sweet perfu of blooming petals.

Flowers had no place in his world.

[The flowers are beautiful, as beautiful as my wife. They’re also delicate and fragile like her.]

Primrose almost choked on her tea.

She quickly masked her surprise, but her heart stuttered at the contrast between his cold words and the warmth in his thoughts.

Edmund took a slow sip of his tea, his expression calm, his posture composed. But in his mind, his thoughts kept running.

[If I’m not careful, I might ruin the flowers in her greenhouse.]

Her greenhouse?

Primrose’s fingers tightened around her cup.

Her eyes swept across the greenhouse, taking in the array of blossoms surrounding them.

Only then did she realize that every single flower in this place was akin to the flowers in the Azria Kingdom, her holand.

Soft pink azrias, pure white luminas, delicate bell-shaped vernias. They were all there. The sa flowers that blood in her holand, the ones she had grown up admiring.

Had this always been the case?

Primrose had never thought too deeply about this before, but had the flowers always co from her holand in her first life?

But ... why? Why were most of the flowers from Azria? Those flowers required great care to grow outside their natural habitat.

He might have to summon a plant witch to make sure these flowers stay healthy and flourish in the greenhouse.

Wait.

Did Edmund ... build this greenhouse just for her?

Was that why it felt so oddly placed in the garden?

Was that why it looked so much like her old garden back in Azria?

Was that why he never set foot inside? Because he was afraid of ruining the flowers? Afraid of ruining sothing she loved?

In her first life, she had believed he despised her so much so that he couldn’t even bear to have tea with her in the greenhouse.

But now ... now she realized, this greenhouse had been his gift to her all along.

Her heart suddenly felt so heavy.

Why was he like this? No, the real question was, how had she never noticed? Maybe because, deep down, she never let herself hope.

Never dared to believe that Edmund had ever cared.

"Primrose?"

She was caught off guard when Edmund called her na. Was this the first ti he had ever done so?

His voice was cold, yet, for so reason, there was a hidden warmth beneath it.

But why was he suddenly calling her na now?

"Yes?" She lifted her gaze to et his icy blue eyes, and for so reason, he looked paler than before.

"Why are you crying?" Edmund held his breath, his voice lower, softer. "Did I do sothing wrong to you?"

Did he?

Yes. No.

It wasn’t as simple as that.

No, wait a minute. Did she really cry?

She imdiately touched her cheek and felt the dampness on her skin.

She was crying? For what?! Because she felt touched by his gift?

Ridiculous!

This was all that pathetic king’s fault!

"No, I’m alright." Primrose quickly rubbed her eyes. "So dust got in them, that’s all."

[Dust? How dare the dust make my wife cry?!]

Primrose took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to ignore his absurd thoughts.

"Your Majesty, may I ask you sothing?" she asked hesitantly.

Edmund humd in response, giving her a small nod.

"Did you ... build this greenhouse for ?"

She had braced herself for his usual cold tone or a short, aningless answer.

But instead, he said sothing that ward her heart.

"I did." He paused for a mont before adding, "This is my gift to you."