"But how did you end up working with my father?" Primrose asked, narrowing her eyes.
"The ingredients come from Noctvaris, right? You could’ve made it on your own instead of working with a distillery owned by humans."
"We did try to distill it ourselves," Edmund replied. "But the fruit is extremely difficult to ferment and refine. One small mistake, and instead of becoming a calming drink, it turns into something rotten, even poisonous."
He paused for a moment, then added softly, "And actually ... you were the one who told me to work with your father."
Primrose’s eyes widened. She stared at him in disbelief.
"Me?" she blinked, confused, glancing around the room like she was searching her memory. "I’m pretty sure we have never met before."
"We did," Edmund said gently. "But maybe you don’t remember. It was a long time ago. I think ... about ten years back."
Primrose tilted her head, quickly doing the math.
Ten years ago? She would’ve been ... twelve?
How could a twelve-year-old version of herself have met the Lycan King?
There was a twelve-year age gap between them. Back then, he was already an adult.
She even used to joke with her friends that whoever married the Lycan King would die young from stress.
Well...
That joke didn’t aged well.
"Where did we meet?" she asked, her eyes growing round. "Wait ... don’t tell me you had feelings for me back then?!"
She gasped, staring at him like he’d just confessed something scandalous.
"No! Of course not!" Edmund said quickly, almost shouting. "It wasn’t like that at all. We only met once, very briefly, and after that, we never crossed paths again!"
He lowered his voice a little and added, "We met at an auction house. At the time, I came to the Azmeria Kingdom in secret, under a false name. I’d heard rumors about a very rare, high-quality liquor being sold there, so I decided to check it out."
Back then, the relationship between beasts and humans was still incredibly strained.
And yet Edmund, the Lycan King, had risked sneaking into human territory ... just for a bottle of rum?
"Oh!" Primrose gasped again as something clicked in her memory. "You were the one who bought my father’s rum! You ... you even placed that ridiculously high bid!"
Ever since she was little, Primrose often accompanied her father to the auction house.
It wasn’t that the Duke of Illvaris enjoyed spending money at the auction, it was quite the opposite. He earned a fortune from the auctions.
Every year, Lazarus would sell a single batch of rare, high-quality rum, a one-of-a-kind distilled liquor that would never be made or sold again.
The people lucky enough to win it always said it was the best liquor they’d ever tasted.
Because of those incredible reviews, more and more people came to Azmeria each year, eager to experience it for themselves.
The auction house, which started as a small local place, eventually grew into the biggest auction house in the Vellmoria Empire.
But Primrose had never imagined that Edmund had once been part of that crowd.
And if her memory was right, he wasn’t just an ordinary guest.
He was the man who had offered five million gold coins for a single bottle of her father’s finest rum.
That price caused a huge uproar.
Many nobles had been furious, fuming over an anonymous bidder who shattered the price record and outbid everyone without revealing his identity.
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