Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 63: The Restricted Section

For the last forty-eight hours, Primrose had become the most persistent shadow in the Sunless City.

Wherever King Caspian went, she was there.

He went to inspect the coral fortifications? She was floating behind him, asking about history.

He went to the training grounds to correct a guard’s posture? She was there, holding a towel and a question.

He tried to hide in his study to draft blueprints for a new aqueduct? She slid a plate of cookies under the door, followed by a note that simply read: PLEASE.

Finally, the King of the Deep cracked.

He was hovering over a drafting table made of polished obsidian, rubbing his temples. He turned around to find Primrose floating upside down near the ceiling, her hair drifting like a halo, staring at him with wide, pleading amber eyes.

"Primrose," Caspian sighed, the sound echoing in the silent room. "For the last time. The Old Palace Ruins are not a tourist destination. They are located in the Abyssal Zone. The pressure alone would crush a normal human, and the wildlife there thinks Great White Sharks are snacks."

"I’m not a normal human," Primrose countered, flipping right-side up. "I’m a Fox. A Fox with questions. And you said it yourself—history is written by the victors. The only way to find out what actually happened during the Great Divide, is to go to the place where it happened."

"It is forbidden," Caspian stated, crossing his powerful arms.

"You’re the King," Primrose pointed out. "You make the rules. You can un-forbid it."

"I am an architect," he corrected. "And as an architect, I know that entering a structural ruin that has been decaying for three thousand years is statistically unwise."

Primrose swam closer, landing softly on the floor in front of him. She knew she had to play her trump card. She knew this man. She knew his weakness. It wasn’t logic. It wasn’t duty.

It was his stomach. And his mana levels.

Maintaining the Sunless City’s barrier took a toll on him. She could see the faint lines of fatigue around his teal eyes. He was running on empty.

"Okay," Primrose said, changing tactics. She smoothed her apron. "How about a deal?"

Caspian raised an eyebrow. "A deal?"

"I cook you a meal. A real meal. Not snacks, not cookies. A High-Grade, Mana-Restoring, ’Boss-Level’ feast," she proposed, her voice taking on a tempting lilt. "Something spicy enough to wake up your core and dense enough to refill your magic reserves instantly. If you eat it and admit it gave you a power boost... you take me to the Ruins."

Caspian looked at her. He looked at the drafting table. He looked back at her.

He remembered the food back on earth. He remembered the feeling of warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.

"What kind of meal?" he asked, his voice betraying his interest.

Primrose grinned. It was a sharp, foxy grin. "Spicy Braised Abyssal Eel with Sun-Pearl reduction. It’s a recipe I just invented. Guaranteed to make you feel like you can punch a mountain."

Caspian hesitated for exactly three seconds.

"You have one hour," he said.

Sixty minutes later, the private dining chamber smelled like heaven and hellfire.

Primrose placed a massive, steaming stone bowl in front of the King. The broth was a deep, angry red, bubbling thick and rich. Chunks of tender, white eel meat floated alongside translucent sea-radishes and herbs she had gathered from the royal gardens.

"Eat," Primrose commanded, untying her apron.

Caspian picked up his spoon. He took a sip of the broth.

BOOM.

It wasn’t a sound; it was a sensation. Heat exploded in his chest, radiating outward to his fingertips and the tips of his tail fins. It wasn’t just spice; it was pure, concentrated energy. The ingredients she had chosen resonated perfectly with his aquatic physiology, but the intent she had cooked with—the desire to uncover the truth—acted as a catalyst.

He didn’t speak. He ate.

He ate with a fervor that was un-kingly. He devoured the eel, drank the broth, and scraped the bowl.

When he finally set the spoon down, his teal eyes were glowing with a terrifyingly bright light. The fatigue lines were gone. His skin looked revitalized. The water around him hummed with the overflow of his mana.

"Well?" Primrose asked, leaning against the table, crossing her arms.

Caspian stood up. He felt stronger than he had in years. He felt like he could indeed punch a mountain, or perhaps rearrange a tectonic plate.

"Pack your things, prim," Caspian said, a smirk playing on his lips. "We are going to the Abyss."

The royal hangar—where the currents were fast and the travel mounts were kept—was chaotic.

Crustar, the Crab-Chancellor, was scuttling back and forth so fast his legs were a blur.

"Your Majesty! This is highly irregular! The Abyssal Zone! The Danger! The Insurance Premiums!" Crustar clacked his claws frantically. "Who will sign the decrees? Who will approve the zoning permits?"

"You will, Crustar," Caspian said calmly, checking the saddlebags on his mount—a sleek, dark-scaled Sea Drake named Draft. "I am leaving you in charge of the administrative duties."

"Me?" Crustar squeaked. "But I pinch things when I panic!"

"Try not to pinch the diplomats," Caspian advised.

Primrose was busy saying goodbye to Orion. The little boy was floating near the gate, clutching a slate tablet.

"Are you going to find the secrets?" Orion asked, his eyes wide.

"We’re going to try," Primrose smiled, fixing his collar. "While we’re gone, I need you to be good for Crustar. Finish your geometry homework. And no calculating the structural integrity of the castle by hitting it with a hammer, okay?"

"Okay," Orion promised solemnly. "I will calculate the volume of soup instead."

"Good boy."

Caspian floated over. He was dressed in travel armor—sleek, black plating made of volcanic glass that hugged his muscular frame. He looked less like an architect and more like the Final Boss the game intended him to be.

"Ready?" he asked.

Primrose nodded, adjusting her own travel pack. "Ready."

"Then stay close," Caspian warned, his expression darkening. "Where we are going... the light does not reach."

They swam past the city limits, past the barrier, and down the continental shelf.

The further they went, the darker it became. The vibrant blues and greens of the upper ocean faded into a twilight indigo, then a bruised purple, and finally, absolute, crushing black.

The only light came from the bioluminescent stripe on Caspian’s tail and the faint glow of the Sea Drake.

The silence was heavy. It wasn’t peaceful; it was oppressive. It felt like the ocean itself was holding its breath.

Primrose felt the pressure building. Even with the magic bubble Caspian had cast around her, she could feel the weight of miles of water pressing in on her psyche. It was cold. A bone-deep, paralyzing cold that seeped through her clothes.

She shivered, her teeth chattering.

"Cold?"

Caspian halted the Drake. He turned back to look at her. In the darkness, his teal eyes were two burning beacons.

"I-I’m f-fine," Primrose stammered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Just a bit ch-chilly."

"You are freezing," Caspian corrected. "Land-dweller physiology is pathetic in these depths."

He didn’t say it with malice. He said it with fact.

He reached out.

"Give me your hand."

Primrose hesitated, then reached out.

Caspian’s hand was large, his fingers webbed and tipped with sharp claws. But his palm was incredibly warm. As soon as he gripped her hand, a surge of heat rushed up her arm.

It wasn’t just body heat. It was magic. He was actively cycling his mana through her body, acting as a living heater.

"Better?" he asked softly.

"Much," Primrose breathed, the shivering stopping instantly. Her cheeks flushed, and not just from the warmth. "Thanks."

"Do not let go," Caspian commanded, turning back to face the dark void ahead. "If the tether breaks, the cold will take you in seconds."

So they swam hand-in-hand into the abyss.

It was romantic, in a terrifying, gothic sort of way. The vast emptiness surrounded them, filled with strange, glowing eyes that blinked in the distance and then vanished. Monstrous shapes drifted in the periphery—eels the size of trains, jellyfish with tentacles miles long—but they all scattered at the sight of the King’s glowing aura.

Primrose squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

For a moment, she forgot about the game. She forgot about the plot. She was just a girl holding the hand of a man who was literally keeping her alive with his own life force.

He really can be sweet at times, she thought, watching the muscles in his back shift as he swam. No one holds on this tight.

After hours of descent, the terrain changed.

Jagged spires of rock rose from the sea floor like the teeth of a dead god. And nestled between them were the ruins.

The Old Palace.

It didn’t look like the Sunless City. The architecture was different—ancient, organic, and imposing. Massive columns of white stone lay toppled in the sand. Statues of forgotten beasts stared blindly into the dark.

It was beautiful, and it was haunting.

"We are here," Caspian whispered, his voice tight.

He pulled her closer, until she was floating right beside him.

"This is the perimeter," he explained, pointing to a circle of broken archways. "Beyond this point, my authority as King is... limited. The guardians here serve the Old dynasty. They do not recognize the new dynasty."

"Guardians?" Primrose asked, looking at the eerie stillness. "I don’t see anything."

"You don’t see them," Caspian said grimly. "Because they are hunting." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Suddenly, the water around them grew incredibly cold—colder than before. The silt on the ocean floor began to swirl, disturbed by something massive moving just out of sight.

A low, vibrating hum resonated through the water, shaking Primrose’s bones.

THRUMMM.

Two massive lights ignited in the darkness above the ruins. They weren’t lamps.

They were eyes.

Each one was the size of a carriage, glowing with a pale, sickly yellow light. A vertical slit pupil contracted as it focused on the two intruders.

"The Kraken," Caspian hissed, drawing a sword made of black crystal from his saddle. "The Watchdog of the First King."

The massive creature shifted, revealing a beak that could crush a submarine and tentacles that stretched into the gloom like a forest of writhing snakes.

It blocked the path to the ruins. It didn’t look friendly.

"Stay behind me," Caspian ordered, his mana flaring up, ready for war. "I will cut a path."

Primrose looked at the monster. She looked at the giant, terrifying beak.

But then, her Chef Eyes noticed something.

The Kraken wasn’t roaring. It was... whining. A high-pitched, miserable keen that was barely audible over the thrumming. And it was pawing at its own mouth with a massive tentacle.

"Wait," Primrose said, swimming out from behind Caspian.

"Primrose! Get back!" Caspian yelled, reaching for her.

"No, look at it," Primrose pointed. "It’s not attacking. It’s in pain."

She swam forward, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She raised her hands, showing she was unarmed.

The Kraken hissed, a cloud of ink billowing out, but it didn’t strike. It watched the tiny, tail-less fox approach.

"Hey there, big guy," Primrose whispered, praying her Gamer Instincts were right. "You got a toothache?"

The Kraken blinked. It let out a gurgle that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Primrose looked back at a stunned Caspian.

"Put the sword away," she said, rolling up her sleeves. "I think we need a dentist, not a warrior."

The Deep Sea Mystery had begun, and the first obstacle wasn’t a boss fight. It was a patient.