Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 50: The Bubble Message and the Broken History

The interference field was down. The massive red crystal in the center of the room was finally calm, pulsing with a soft, inviting white light.

"It is ready," King Caspian said, floating near the console. "You have sixty seconds of transmission time before the atmospheric pressure scrambles the signal again."

Primrose nodded, swimming up to the crystal. Her heart hammered. She hadn’t spoken to anyone from the surface in nearly a month.

She placed her hand on the crystal. It hummed, waiting for her voice.

"Hey," Primrose started, her voice cracking slightly. "It’s me. Primrose."

She took a deep breath.

"I’m alive. I’m safe. I... I washed up in a place where I can’t leave just yet, but I’m okay. Please don’t burn down the ocean looking for me. I promise I’ll be back soon."

She paused, imagining the chaotic scene at the daycare.

"Vali, stop biting people. Arjun, don’t break the furniture. Jasper, stop calculating the odds of my death. Silas, keep drawing."

She swallowed hard.

"Clover my sweet bunny, keep your safety rock close, okay? Be brave for me. And Luna... you’re in charge of the daycare. I know you can do it. Watch over them."

She smiled, a tear drifting away into the water.

"Keep the oven warm for me. I miss you guys. I will be back soon so just wait for me."

She pulled her hand back. The crystal flashed once, sending a concentrated pulse of magic shooting straight up through the miles of water, aiming for the signature of the Little Whiskers Daycare.

Caspian watched her, his expression unreadable.

"You miss them," he stated. It wasn’t a question.

"They’re my family," Primrose said softly. Then she looked at him, catching the flicker of jealousy in his teal eyes. "But I have work to do here, too. Come on. Orion is waiting for his geometry lesson."

Over the next few days, life in the Sunless City fell into a new rhythm. But there was a shift. A subtle, terrifying shift.

Caspian had stopped acting like a King and started acting like... a suitor.

And he wasn’t subtle.

Primrose was in the kitchen, prepping sea-oats.

Caspian drifted in, holding a pearl the size of a grapefruit. But it wasn’t the usual white or black pearl. It was a radiant, glowing Golden Orange.

"I found this in the thermal vents of the Southern Ridge," Caspian said casually, placing it on her cutting board. "A Sun-Pearl. It is the only thing down here that holds the color of fire."

He leaned in, his voice dropping.

"It matches your eyes. Keep it."

"Caspian," Primrose sighed, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. "I can’t chop vegetables with a priceless artifact on the board."

"Then I shall build you a bigger kitchen," he replied smoothly.

Primrose was in the garden with Orion, drawing squares in the sand.

"So, a square has four equal sides," Primrose explained.

"Like this?" Orion asked, drawing a wobbly shape.

"Perfect," she smiled.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. Caspian was there, wearing a tunic that was unbuttoned significantly lower than necessary.

"I have cleared my schedule," Caspian announced. "I wish to learn about squares."

"You’re an architect," Primrose pointed out, refusing to look at his chest. "You know what a square is."

"I have forgotten," he said shamelessly, floating closer until his arm brushed hers. "Teach me again. Hands-on instruction might be necessary."

Primrose was walking back to her room.

Caspian escorted her. He always escorted her.

"The corridors are dangerous," he claimed, glaring at a terrified shrimp-guard who was literally trembling against the wall.

When they reached her door, he didn’t just leave. He took her hand, kissing her knuckles, his teal eyes dark and hungry.

"Goodnight, Chef," he would whisper. "Dream of me."

Primrose knew exactly what he was doing. She had played the game. She knew the mechanics of a "Capture Target" in pursuit mode.

But knowing it and feeling it were two different things. Every time he looked at her, she felt a flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that the lonely man from Seoul was trying very, very hard to make her stay forever.

She acted oblivious. She rolled her eyes. She made jokes.

But every night, she fell asleep holding the Golden Sun-Pearl.

Primrose needed answers.

It wasn’t just about distracting herself from the King’s intense courting. It was about what the Queen Dowager had said.

A defective, tail-less pollution.

The words had been eating at her for days. In Beastly B.A.D.S., the character profile for Primrose just said: Born without a tail due to weak bloodline. That was it. That was the reason she was "Hard Mode."

But she had just learned that the Game Lore about Caspian was a lie. He wasn’t a tragic widower; he was a transmigrator. The game had covered up the truth with a pretty story.

If the game lied about him, Primrose thought, swimming past a row of glowing crystals, did it lie about me? Am I really just ’weak’? Or is there a reason the Foxes fell?

She needed to know if her "Hard Mode" was a glitch she could fix.

She entered the Royal Library. It wasn’t a room of books. Paper dissolved underwater. Instead, it was a cavern filled with thousands of floating Memory Crystals.

Primrose swam through the rows. She wasn’t browsing. She was hunting.

She found a section marked "Origins: The Eight Clans."

She reached out and touched a large, amber-colored crystal.

FLASH.

Golden light spilled into the water, forming moving images and ancient text in the air.

In the Beginning, before the Great Divide, the First Kins ruled the chaos together.

Primrose watched, mesmerized. The images swirled, showing figures of immense power.

The First Tiger, Lord of the Jungle

The First Wolf, The Lycan Lord

The First Serpent, The Imugi Dragon

The First Shadow, The Panther

The First Lion, The Sun-Child

The First Rabbit, The Moon-Weaver

The First Siren, The Jiaoren King

And then... the last figure.

The First Fox, The Nine-Tailed Gumiho.

Primrose gasped. The image showed a magnificent woman with nine tails of white fire, commanding respect from even the Dragon and the Tiger.

Nine tails, Primrose thought, instinctively touching her own empty lower back. The Game said Foxes were tricksters and thieves. Low-level mobs. But this... she looks like a Goddess.

The text continued.

The Eight Clans lived in harmony, bound by the Oath of the Prism. Together, they built the Empire. Together, they held back the Void.

The projection shifted. The harmony began to crack. The images showed the Founders arguing. The sky turning dark. The sea boiling.

But greed is a rot that touches even the divine. A dispute arose regarding the [DATA CORRUPTED].

Primrose frowned. She tapped the crystal. The text flickered.

The [DATA CORRUPTED] was stolen. Trust shattered. The Imugi retreated to the mountains. The Jiaoren sank the city to the deep. The Tiger claimed the North. The Fox...

The text stopped abruptly. The image of the Nine-Tailed Fox flickered violently and then vanished, as if someone had clawed it out of history.

The Fox was punished. Stripped of [DATA CORRUPTED]. Cursed to wander.

Primrose pulled her hand back, her heart racing.

Punished? Stripped?

Was that why she had no tail? Was that why the Fox-kin were considered "sneaky" and low-class in the Empire? Because their ancestor did something—or was accused of doing something—that broke the alliance?

And the torn part... the "Dispute."

What had they fought over? What had the Foxes done—or been accused of doing—that warranted stripping them of their power?

"What did you do, Primrose’s ancestor?" she whispered to the empty library. "And why does it feel like I’m the one paying the bill?"

"Interesting reading material."

Primrose jumped, spinning around.

Caspian was floating behind her, looking at the fading projection of the Nine-Tailed Fox. His expression was unreadable.

"The Genesis Myth," Caspian noted. "I haven’t looked at that in years."

"It’s torn," Primrose said, pointing to the crystal. "The part about the dispute. What happened? Why did the Clans split?"

Caspian shrugged, his fins rippling. "History is written by the victors, Primrose. Or in this case, by the survivors. The ocean records say the Land-Walkers betrayed us. The Land records probably say we betrayed them. The truth?"

He looked at her, his teal eyes glowing in the dim library.

"The truth is likely lost to time. Just like us."

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His touch was gentle, possessive, and warm despite the cold water.

"Do not worry about ancient curses, Neighbor. You are safe here. In the deep, history cannot hurt you."

Primrose looked at him. She looked at the man who was supposed to be the "Final Boss."

According to the Beastly B.A.D.S. strategy guide:

King Caspian was a heartless monster.

He murdered his wife.

He hated his son.

He wanted to drown the world.

But the man floating in front of her?

He was an architect from Seoul.

He was a victim of a forced ritual.

He loved math and triangles.

He liked Kimchi Jjigae.

Wait, Primrose thought, her Brain finally clicking the last puzzle piece into place.

The Game Lore wasn’t just "lying." It was outdated.

The moment Caspian transmigrated into this body twenty-five years ago, he broke the script. He changed the character. The "Cold King" didn’t exist anymore because a human soul was piloting the body.

If he changed the Jiaoren Route just by being here...

Primrose looked back at the fading image of the Nine-Tailed Fox.

...then I can change the Fox Route.

The Game said Primrose was born "defective." That she had a "weak bloodline." That she was destined to be tail-less and weak forever.

But I’m not the original Primrose, she realized, a thrill of adrenaline shooting through her. I’m a transmigrator. I’m a variable. I’m a Glitch.

If Caspian could defy his programming to become a good dad, then surely, she could defy her programming to break this curse. She didn’t have to accept the "Hard Mode" limitations. She could rewrite the code.

"You’re right," Primrose said slowly, a determined smile spreading across her face. "History is written by the victors."

She looked at Caspian, her amber eyes burning with new fire.

"But the future? The future is written by the players."

Caspian tilted his head, intrigued by the sudden shift in her energy. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Primrose said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the exit. "I’m done worrying about being ’broken.’ If you can change the Final Boss lore... then I can definitely grow a tail. Or nine."

Caspian chuckled, squeezing her hand. "That is the spirit. Though, for the record... I like you just fine without them."

Primrose froze. Her heart skipped a beat, stumbling in her chest.

Wait, she thought, panic and heat rising in her cheeks. ’Just fine’? Is that... is that a confession? Is the Final Boss confessing to me?

She looked at him, searching his teal eyes for a joke, but he looked irritatingly sincere.

No, she told herself firmly, shaking off the thought. He’s just being nice. He’s just being a good neighbor.

Besides... I don’t need a tail to be cool. I’m doing just fine as I am. Tail or no tail, I’m still the Chef who tamed the Deep.

She took a deep breath, finding her confidence again. She didn’t need to fix herself for anyone.

She forced a grin, masking her fluster.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Neighbor," Primrose winked. "But let’s go. I have a sudden urge to make spicy stew."

As they swam out of the library, the amber crystal glowed one last time behind them. The image of the Nine-Tailed Fox flickered, almost as if it was nodding.