Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 45: The Golden Cage

The silence in the Prince’s chamber was heavy, but it wasn’t the silence of the deep ocean anymore. It was the stunned silence of two people who had just found a lifeboat in the middle of a hurricane.

"The only reason you would know that distinction," Caspian said, his voice losing its melodic, royal cadence and sounding startlingly human, "is if you are a transmigrator. From Earth."

"And the only reason a Merman King would correct me about Manhattan Chowder," Primrose countered, her hands trembling, "is if he isn’t really a fish."

They stared at each other. The bioluminescent light of the room seemed to fade, leaving only the two souls from another world floating in the dark.

"Seoul," Primrose whispered, testing the waters. "2025."

Caspian closed his eyes, a look of profound pain and relief washing over his features. "Gangnam District. 2025. I was an architect."

Primrose let out a laugh—a loud, bubbly sound that echoed in the chamber, startling the sleeping Prince for a moment. "Oh my god! I thought I was alone! I thought I was the only one stuck in this crazy place!"

She grabbed Caspian’s hand with both of hers, shaking it frantically. Her amber eyes, usually so guarded in front of the Warlords, were shining with pure, unadulterated excitement.

"I was a Chef!" she babbled, the words spilling out in a mix of the Common Tongue and their native Korean. "I worked at that fusion place near the river! I died of overwork. Literally dropped dead on the pass during the dinner rush. I woke up here in the body of a failed Fox-kin with no tail."

Caspian froze.

The fusion place near the river.

He looked at her—really looked at her. He stripped away the fox ears, the amber eyes, and the fantasy dress. He looked for the soul beneath.

He remembered.

He remembered the restaurant he used to go to alone after long nights at the firm. He remembered the open kitchen. He remembered the woman with the fierce eyes and the tired smile who commanded the line like a general. He had never spoken to her—he was too shy, too exhausted, and always felt like he was watching a star from a distance. But her food was the only thing that felt like home.

It’s her, Caspian realized, his hearts hammering a frantic rhythm. The Chef. She is here.

But she didn’t know him. To her, he was just a stranger from the same city. And he couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not while he looked like... this.

"I..." Caspian cleared his throat, pushing down the tidal wave of emotion. "I died in my sleep. Heart failure. Stress. I woke up as a clutch of eggs in this palace."

He looked at his massive, shimmering tail.

"That was twenty-five years ago," he whispered. "I have been this... creature... for a quarter of a century."

Primrose’s smile faltered. She did the math. "Twenty-five years? But... I only got here four or five months ago."

"Time dilation," Caspian reasoned, the modern logic sounding strange coming from a fantasy creature. "Or perhaps we arrived at different points on the timeline. I spent two decades thinking Earth was a fever dream. Until I heard you humming."

Primrose looked at him with pity. He looked so tired. He wasn’t just an ancient King; he was a man who had been isolated for decades, surrounded by monsters he couldn’t relate to.

"Well, you’re not dreaming," she said firmly. "And you’re not alone anymore. But... wait."

Her "Gamer Brain" kicked in. She looked him up and down.

"If you’re from 2025... did you play the game?" she asked excitedly. "Is that how you knew where to find the ingredients? Or did you just figure it out?"

Caspian frowned, his fin twitching in confusion. "The game? What game?"

Primrose froze. "You don’t know? The world we’re in? It’s an Otome game called Beastly B.A.D.S."

Caspian stared at her blankly. "Beastly... Bads?"

"Yes! It’s a romance strategy game!" Primrose waved her hands, explaining frantically. "I’m the Heroine of the ’Hard Mode’ route—Primrose the Fox. But there are others. Princess Leonora is the ’Easy Mode’ heroine. Luna the Merchant’s Daughter is ’Normal Mode’."

Caspian went very, very still.

"And me?" he asked slowly. "Who am I?"

Primrose bit her lip. She looked at his terrifying aura, his power, and his tragic backstory.

"You’re the Final Boss," she admitted softly. "In every route. You’re the ’Hidden King of the Deep’. You’re the hardest capture target in the entire game because you hate everyone."

Caspian rubbed his temples, a gesture so human it looked jarring on a merman.

"So," he said slowly, his voice dripping with existential horror. "I have spent twenty-five years suffering, navigating aquatic politics, fighting wars, and watching my son die... inside a dating simulator?"

"Yeah," Primrose winced.

"And I am the ’Final Boss’?"

"The unbeatable one," she nodded. "Most players just quit when they get to your level because you usually drown them."

Caspian laughed. It was a bitter, sharp sound. "It is a cosmic joke. I have lived a quarter of a century as a glitch in a romance game."

He floated backward, sinking onto a stone bench. He looked devastated. All his pain, all his struggle—it was just code?

Primrose swam over to him. She hesitated, then placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said softly. "It might be a game, but we’re real. The soup is real. Orion is real."

At the mention of his son, Caspian looked up. He looked at the sleeping boy, whose cheeks were finally pink with warmth.

"Yes," Caspian whispered. "He is real."

He turned his gaze back to Primrose. His teal eyes softened, losing the last of their predatory edge. He noticed how she was holding her chest, taking shallow, careful breaths.

"I apologize," Caspian said, his voice sincere. "For earlier. When I... attacked you with my pressure. I did not know you were a neighbor."

Primrose rubbed her ribs, wincing. "It’s fine. I mean, it hurts like hell, but... I get it. You were protecting your kid. I would have done the same."

"It is not fine," Caspian said. "You are hurt."

He reached out. His large, webbed hand hovered over her chest.

"I will help treat your internal wound," he said gently. "The Royal Line possesses High Water Magic. We can manipulate fluids... including blood and cell regeneration. It is how we survive the pressure."

Primrose nodded, trusting him. "Please. Breathing kind of sucks right now."

Caspian placed his hand gently over her heart.

A soft, cool blue light radiated from his palm. It didn’t feel like the crushing pressure from before. It felt like cool water on a burn. He could feel her heartbeat against his palm—fast, alive, and human.

I found you, he thought, watching the pain leave her face. After two lives and twenty-five years, I finally found you.

Primrose gasped as the pain vanished. Her lungs expanded fully for the first time in hours. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth faded.

"Whoa," she breathed, patting her chest. "That’s better than a health potion. Thanks... neighbor."

Caspian pulled his hand back, though he wanted to keep it there. He looked at her, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"So, Chef," Caspian said, his tone shifting from regal to conspiratorially casual, though his teal eyes remained intense. "Since you possess the strategy guide for this world... tell me. How do we get you back to the surface before your ’Love Interests’ declare war on my ocean?" 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Primrose grinned, the relief of being healed making her giddy. "First, we get you some decent food. I saw your pantry. It’s tragic."

Caspian chuckled—a real, resonant sound that seemed to surprise even him. "Lead the way."

But as he watched her turn toward the archway, her movements still slightly clumsy in the water, the smile slipped from his face.

Send her back?

The thought tasted like ash.

For twenty-five years, he had been alone in a world of monsters and politics. He had forgotten the sound of his own language. He had forgotten the taste of cooked food. He had forgotten what it felt like to look at someone and see an equal, not a subject or a threat.

And now, she was here. The Chef. The woman whose tired smile had been the only bright spot in his miserable life as an architect.

If he sent her back to the surface, she would go back to them. The Warlords. The Wolf, the Tiger, the Snake, the Panther. The "Love Interests" she spoke of with such familiarity.

She belongs to the surface, his rational mind argued. She is a Fox. She needs air and sun.

She belongs to me, his Merman heart growled, a dark, possessive instinct coiling in his chest. I found her. She is my neighbor. My ghost.

And Orion...

He looked back at the pearl shell. His son was sleeping peacefully for the first time in years, his cheeks flushed with warmth. The "Sunshine Soup" had done what the High Mages could not.

If Primrose left, Orion would fade again. The boy needed her cooking. He needed her care.

Caspian’s teal eyes narrowed. He was the Final Boss, wasn’t he? And Final Bosses didn’t just give up the prize because the Hero asked nicely.

"Actually," Caspian said, his voice smooth and unreadable.

Primrose stopped and floated back around. "Yeah?"

"We cannot send you back yet," Caspian lied. It was a smooth, effortless lie, honed by two decades of court politics. "The currents are unstable this time of year. The Dark Current that brought you here... it is a one-way trip until the season changes."

Primrose’s ears drooped. "Oh. How long is the season?"

"A month," Caspian said. "Perhaps two."

"Two months?!" Primrose squeaked. "But the daycare! The cubs! Rurik is going to burn the city down!"

"Let him bark," Caspian said dismissively, floating closer. "The ocean is vast. He cannot find you here. And besides..."

He gestured to the sleeping Prince.

"Orion needs you. One bowl of soup is a start, but his recovery will require a full dietary regimen. You said it yourself—he needs consistent care. If you leave now, the blockage will return."

Primrose looked at the tiny, frail boy in the shell. Her expression softened instantly. The "Nanny Instinct" was her weakness, and Caspian knew it.

"You’re right," she sighed, rubbing her neck. "I can’t just leave him like this. He needs to build up his strength."

"Exactly," Caspian said, hiding his triumph behind a mask of kingly concern. "So, you will stay. You will be the Royal Dietician. I will give you the East Wing. It has... air pockets. And a kitchen."

"And you’ll help me send a message to the surface?" Primrose asked hopeful. "Just so they know I’m alive?"

Caspian’s face remained perfectly impassive.

"The communications array is damaged," he lied again. "But I will... look into it."

"Okay," Primrose nodded, accepting her fate with the resilience of a gamer facing a long side-quest. "I guess I’m living in Atlantis for a while. But I’m serious about the pantry, Caspian. If I’m cooking for a Prince, I need better than raw kelp."

"You shall have whatever you desire," Caspian promised, floating past her to lead the way.

He reached out and took her hand again—ostensibly to guide her, but really just to feel the warmth of her palm.

Welcome home, neighbor, he thought, a dark satisfaction settling in his chest. You are going to love it here. Because I am never letting you go.