Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Miracle Nanny.

"So," I said, crouching down to Clover, who was now happily licking the ramekin clean. "You liked that?"

Clover’s head shot up. She looked at me, her olive eyes sparkling, and then she beamed.

"...More!"

I blinked. She talks!

Luna was going to lose her mind.

"More?" I laughed. "I can definitely make ’more.’ But hey, I’ve got a problem, Clover. And I think you’re just the bunny to help me."

I pointed to the big, blank wooden sign I’d propped against the wall. "I’m trying to get other kids, like you, to come here so I can make them yummy food. But no one knows I’m here. We need to advertise. And... I don’t even have a name for this place."

Clover tilted her head, tapping her chin with a tiny finger in a perfect imitation of me. She looked at the sign... then at my (terrible) drawings of a wolf cub and a panther cub... then she looked at her own nose, which was twitching.

"...Whiskers?" she said, her voice small.

My Top Chef brain, which was built for "fast" ideas, immediately seized it. Whiskers. That’s... simple. And cute.

"Little... Whiskers?" I said, testing it out.

Clover’s face lit up like a sunbeam. "The Little Whiskers Daycare!"

Sold!

---

Two Weeks Later

The Little Whiskers Daycare was... technically... open.

Luna, after she was done weeping with joy that her sister was now talking and eating, had become my biggest champion. She and a very happy Clover had advertised to the entire merchant’s quarter.

It worked... sort of.

I had customers. A few stressed-out squirrel-kin moms would drop off their kids for an hour. A busy badger-kin tailor would leave his son during his lunch rush. It was fine. It paid for ingredients and kept the lights on.

But it wasn’t solving my Marquis Grieve problem. The First Snow Ball was 11 months away, and I was still a failed fox with no noble protection. I needed to get the nobles. I needed a B.A.D.

I was angrily scrubbing a pot, trying to decide if I should just give up ... when the bell on my shop door jingled.

I turned around, wiping my hands, a fake "Welcome!" smile plastered on my face. "Hi, the daycare is... is..."

The smile froze.

Standing in my doorway was the most sophisticated, high-end, "you-are-a-speck-of-dust" man I had ever seen. He was impossibly tall and slender, with the graceful, long-limbed elegance of a Crane-kin. He had sharp, intelligent black eyes and grey hair pulled back into an immaculate, tight queue. His features were handsome, but in a cold, severe way—like a statue. He wore a perfectly pressed black uniform that probably cost more than my family’s entire (crumbling) manor.

I knew him from the game’s wiki. This was Alistair, one of the B.A.Ds chief-of-staff.

He looked at my humble shop, his gaze flicking over my hand-drawn sign, and his perfect, thin nose twitched in an expression of profound disappointment.

"Are you... The Miracle Nanny?" he asked, his voice crisp and condescending.

What a title. I sound like a cleaning product.

"I’m Lady Primrose Thistle, the owner of the Little Whiskers Daycare," I said, drawing myself up as tall as my 5-foot-nothing body could manage. "How can I help you?"

Alistair sniffed. "My master has heard... rumors... of your success with difficult children. He has a... situation... and requires your culinary services."

My heart started to pound. This was it.

"And your master is...?"

Alistair looked down his aristocratic nose, as if I was too stupid to have guessed.

"My master," he said, "is Archduke Cassian Argentis."

I froze. The Snake.

I hadn’t even tried to capture a B.A.D. yet, and the Financial Opportunity, the slyest, most scheming route in the entire game—had just walked right through my front door.

My mind raced, connecting the dots. Of course, it was him. Lord Jaeger is too proud and hates foxes. General Khanda is probably still trying to make his son run laps. But Cassian? He’s a pragmatist. He heard a rumor about a chef who could handle a picky eater, and he’s here to see if that chef can handle his own delicate ward.

This wasn’t a desperate dad. This was a test.

I met Alistair’s icy gaze, my backbone straightening. "A situation, you say? Please, do tell me more about this... situation."

Alistair’s black eyes surveyed my tiny, clean kitchen. "My master, Archduke Argentis, has a ward. His younger brother, Jasper Argentis."

He paused, as if the name itself should explain everything. I stayed silent, giving him my best professional chef listening face.

"The young master is... delicate," Alistair continued, the word sounding like an insult. "He is of a cold-blooded lineage, and as such, he is... always cold."

He gestured vaguely to the warm, sunlit shop. "He finds it difficult to maintain his energy."

"A common issue for cold-blooded kin, I’d imagine," I said, my mind already flipping through recipes. "He’d need his food not just nutritious, but served at a precise temperature to help him regulate."

Alistair’s eyebrow twitched. It was the first flicker of interest he’d shown.

"Indeed," he said. "He also has a... highly specialized diet."

"You mean he’s a picky eater," I translated.

"I mean," Alistair said, his black eyes fixing on me, "that all the nannies his grace has hired have been... terrified. Of touching him."

He let that hang in the air. I knew exactly what he was implying from the game’s lore: Jasper was secretly venomous. The poor kid wasn’t just delicate; he was a lonely, walking biohazard that no one was willing to get close to.

Alistair looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. "My master is a pragmatist. He is willing to investigate any... rumor... that could lead to a solution. The young master’s...condition... is a source of great concern." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

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