The Lycan King’s Thought is Unhinged!

Primrose never expected to return at this exact moment, the night the Lycan King would step into her chamber, only to walk right back out five minutes later.

He hadn't even spared her more than a glance before scoffing and turning away, like she was something repulsive.

And yet ... here he was. Standing at her door.

Edmund Osbert Varnharme.

The Lycan King. The King of Beasts.

The man who had once treated her like she barely existed.

His broad shoulders were stiff, arms crossed over his chest like he was preparing for war, and his ice-blue eyes locked onto her with an unreadable expression.

His jet-black hair, still tousled from their rushed wedding, fell messily over his forehead. His sharp jaw clenched so tight she swore she heard his teeth grind.

His sun-kissed skin was the result of years spent training under the scorching heat, honing his strength to perfection.

Primrose swallowed hard.

Because no matter how many times she had cursed him, no matter how much resentment she had buried in her heart, she couldn't deny the truth.

He was devastatingly, unfairly, ridiculously handsome.

In her first life, Edmund had barely spoken to her.

A half-hearted "sleep wherever you want" and a dismissive "I have more important matters to attend to" were the only words he had left her with before walking out of the room without a second glance.

That was it. That was all she had gotten from her newlywed husband.

She had convinced herself he hated her. That he found her disgusting.

But now …

Now she could hear his thoughts.

And the very first thing she heard the moment he stepped inside was—

[Oh, fuck. She's so damn pretty. What the hell do I do now?]

Primrose blinked.

She must have misheard.

This was Edmund, the man who had treated her with nothing but cold detachment.

There was no way his first thought upon seeing her was—

[Her waist is so small. If I wrap my arms around her, I could lift her with one hand—]

Primrose held her breath.

Her fingers instinctively curled around her nightgown, gripping the thin fabric as she stared at him in disbelief.

His face remained a mask of indifference. But his mind?

Pure chaos.

[—Wait, no! Don't look! DON'T LOOK! She probably fears me. She probably hates me. If I stare too much, I might lose control!]

His brain was screaming at him not to look.

And yet, his traitorous eyes moved anyway.

Dragging over her form.

Stopping at her sheer, practically transparent purple nightgown.

Silence.

[Why the fuck is it sheer? WHO MADE IT SHEER?!]

[Is she trying to kill me? Is this a test? Did someone bribe her to assassinate me by giving me a heart attack?!]

[Calm down, Edmund. You've faced wars, bloodshed, and ancient beasts. You can handle your own wife wearing a—]

[—a fucking see-through nightgown?!]

[I AM NOT HANDLING THIS.]

[Don't look at her legs. Don't look at her—FUCK, I LOOKED!]

Primrose was too stunned to speak.

She couldn't even blink.

His mind was unhinged!

One second, he told himself not to look.

A few seconds later?

He looked at her.

Then screamed at himself.

'Why is he trying so hard not to look at me?'

She kept her face calm, but internally, she was screaming—at this point, both of them were screaming at each other, but internally.

'This can't be the same man who ignored me for years.'

This was an overgrown, socially inept wolf who had no idea how to handle his own wife.

[My mate is a human ….]

Ah.

'Here it comes.'

This was the part where he would start insulting her.

Like everyone else.

Like the rest of the kingdom, he would sneer at her weakness, belittle her existence, and curse the Moon Goddess for shackling him to an unworthy mate.

After all, he hadn't marked her on their wedding night, leaving her unclaimed for an entire year of marriage.

'He must hate this bond.'

But then, something unexpected slipped from his mind.

[She's too small, too soft, too beautiful.]

[I'm a beast. I'm a monster. I don't deserve my wife ….]

[I don't want to hurt her by marking her. What if she gets sick after we have our wedding night?]

Primrose's fists clenched.

He was afraid of hurting her?

'That's why he didn't want to claim me on our wedding night?'

This bastard.

Because of his fear, Primrose had endured endless humiliation like whispers, sneers, and outright mockery from the people of the palace.

Everyone thought their king hated her.

Everyone assumed she was so worthless that she wasn't even worthy of his mark.

So they insulted her whenever Edmund wasn't around.

But now that she was thinking about it …

Why?

Why did they only insult her when Edmund wasn't around?

Why did they pretend to respect her the moment he returned?

No, they didn't do it out of obligation to respect their queen.

But sometimes, just for a flicker of a moment, Primrose caught something in their expressions.

Fear.

And it was always the ones who had insulted her the most.

She remembered a soldier once, bold enough to sneer at her in public, his words dripping with contempt. The next time she looked for him? He was gone. Vanished without a trace.

Back then, she hadn't given it much thought.

But now?

Now, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

Did that mean …

Edmund secretly punished those who disrespected her?

In her first life, Primrose would have laughed at such nonsense. But the her in this life? She had no doubts at all.

Maybe he wasn't completely awful.

No. Hell no. He was still awful.

If he hadn't been such a damn coward, she wouldn't have suffered in the first place.

He needed to learn his lesson.

"Your Majesty," Primrose said, her voice as sharp as a blade.

She wasn't going to make the same mistakes again.

Back then, she had tried. She had done everything to earn the beasts' respect. She had treated them with warmth, with patience, with kindness despite their blatant disdain for her.

And what did she get in return?

They hadn't even pretended to respect her. They didn't bow. They didn't acknowledge her as their queen. They had mocked her, whispered behind her back, and looked at her like she was a pest in their kingdom.

So why the hell should she try again?

This time, if they wouldn't accept her, then she would leave.

She'd disappear from this wretched kingdom. From the beasts who scorned her. From the humans who had thrown her into this pit of hell like a sacrificial lamb.

She could start over. Somewhere far, far away.

A small village, maybe. She could change her identity, become a runaway noblewoman escaping an abusive household.

She could open a tavern. A quiet little place where people came to drink, spill their secrets, and leave a handful of coins on the counter.

A simple life. A free life.

And to make that happen, she needed money.

A lot of money. Enough to live comfortably as a rich, mysterious bartender who only opened her tavern to gossip.

Her golden eyes flickered with resolve.

"You must be disappointed to have me as your mate," she said, her tone icy and detached.

"I'm nothing but a burden to you. A stain on your throne." She lifted her chin, watching his reaction carefully. "I won't ask you for anything. I won't expect you to respect me."

Edmund's face remained calm, but his thoughts instantly spiraled into panic.

[Disappointed? Me? How the hell could I ever be disappointed in my wife?!]

[Wife looks mad. Wife looks really mad. Shit. I must have done something awful.]

Primrose met his gaze, her voice steady, but there was no warmth left in it. "I refuse to spend the rest of my life feeling unworthy. And I'm done listening to your people throw insults at me like I'm nothing."

She took a step forward. Edmund didn't move. He was too busy battling his own mind.

[Wife is approaching. Very close. Too close. Stay calm. Stay—]

"That's why I'm offering you a deal," she said, her tone like ice. "Let's end this, Your Majesty. I'll take my dowry and leave the kingdom."

His entire body went rigid.

"Don't worry," she added, a hollow smile curling on her lips. "I'll go somewhere far, somewhere neither you nor your people will ever see me again."

Edmund's heart slammed against his ribs, his face darkened.

"And if you're worried about your reputation, you can tell everyone I took my own life on our wedding night."

Silence.

A suffocating silence.

"No one will blame you," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. They'll just assume I'm too weak for this kingdom. You won't have a queen. But you never wanted one, anyway."

She waited.

Waited for him to say something.

Anything.

But Edmund Osbert Varnharme, the mighty Lycan King, stood there like a man struck by lightning, his thoughts screaming inside his head.

[WHAT?!]