The Mind-Reading Mate: Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me?!-Chapter 464: When the Lycan King Met Curious Children

But Primrose didn’t pay much attention to that small issue. Her focus had already shifted to something else. "Husband, look!" she said excitedly. "There are magical paper windmills!"

She used to play with those when she was little. They were just simple paper windmills sprinkled with golden powder made from cheap magic crystals.

When someone blew on them, the golden dust would scatter into the air, and the children would run around, laughing as they tried to catch it.

Primrose picked up five windmills and handed them to her husband. "Blow them as hard as you can!"

Edmund took a deep breath and blew with all his strength, as if he were trying to knock down a pig’s house with his breath.

In an instant, golden dust filled the air. The children squealed with delight and ran around, reaching up and trying to grab the sparkling powder. When the dust finally faded, they jumped excitedly in front of Edmund, asking him to blow more.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! How can you blow that hard?" one child asked, eyes wide with curiosity. "I can blow a windmill too, but the powder never comes out that much!"

Edmund wasn’t used to talking to children—hell, he was still awkward even when talking to adults. He glanced at his wife several times, silently asking for help, but Primrose only smiled back at him, encouraging him to talk to the children.

After all, he would be a father soon, so she thought it would be good for him to get used to children like this.

Edmund swallowed hard, then spoke in a slightly quiet voice. "That’s because I’m big."

"You’re really tall too!" a little boy said, tilting his head back so far that he almost fell over. "If I drink milk every day, can I grow as tall as you?"

"Maybe," Edmund replied, sounding unsure.

"Your Majesty, if a werewolf bites me, will I turn into a werewolf?"

"Can you howl like a wolf?"

"Your Majesty, is it true that werewolves like to eat naughty kids?"

Edmund pressed his lips together because the children’s questions sometimes sounded completely unreasonable.

"I’m not a werewolf," he said, choosing to clear up the biggest misunderstanding first. "I’m a lycan, so you have to remember that. And no, you won’t become a werewolf even if one bites you."

He honestly had no idea where that kind of myth came from.

"What’s the difference?" one child asked. "My father said you’re both dogs."

"Hey! You naughty kid! I never said that!" the boy’s father shouted in panic. He quickly covered his son’s mouth and pulled him away. "Your Majesty, please forgive him! He speaks without thinking! I swear he doesn’t deserve to—"

"That’s alright," Primrose said quickly, cutting him off before he could say something even worse.

If he kept going, the children might really start believing that Edmund was terrifying, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"My husband won’t get angry over something so small," Primrose finally stepped in and gently reassured the man. "Children are just curious, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, it’s better to hear the answer straight from the Lycan himself than from rumors or unclear sources."

"Right, husband?" Primrose turned her face toward her husband, silently urging him to back her up.

Edmund cleared his throat before speaking. "That’s right. I’m happy to answer any question the children ask. At least this way, I can make sure they get the correct information."

The man opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t know what to say. Being stared at directly by the Lycan King was still frightening, and unlike the children, the adults didn’t have the courage to speak so freely.

"Alright, about your earlier question," Edmund continued once the little boy finally loosened his grip on his father. "Just think of werewolves as dirty dogs, and lycans as the elite ones, the cleaner kind."

Primrose couldn’t help but laugh softly because, apparently, the information provided by the Lycan King was extremely biased. These children would probably never have a good impression of werewolves.

As the night grew deeper, the townspeople slowly became used to Edmund’s presence. Some of them even gathered the courage to talk to him.

Near midnight, the music became livelier, and people began dancing with their partners and families, including Edmund and Primrose.

Unlike royal dances, which were full of rules and strict steps, the townspeople’s dance was simple and free.

No one cared whether they looked graceful or clumsy. What mattered was laughing, moving, and enjoying the moment with the people they loved.

"Wife, don’t move too much," Edmund reminded her. "Your feet will be sore tonight."

For a while now, Primrose had been dancing with the children and the townspeople. She didn’t even care that her dress was heavy, or that the more she moved, the more her body would ache later that night.

The moment she came close to Edmund, he reached out and gently caught her by the waist, stopping her before she could dance away again.

"But husband, isn’t this really fun?" Primrose said with a bright smile, looking up at him.

She was still slightly out of breath, her cheeks warm from all the movement, and her eyes were shining with excitement.

"I know it’s fun, but you have to be careful." Edmund leaned closer and whispered, "What if you get a stomach cramp later?"

Primrose blinked, then laughed softly. "You’re worrying too much," she said, resting her hands on his chest. "I’m not that fragile."

It turned out that Primrose really should have listened to her husband’s warning. Once they returned to the Duke’s manor, a dull ache spread through her lower stomach, and the soles of her feet throbbed from wearing heels for far too long.

"Husband, I think I will die sooner," she said dramatically as she threw herself onto the bed, her feet dangling over the edge.

Edmund only shook his head, but he didn’t scold his wife because he was afraid she would get mad at him instead.

"I’ll ask the maids to prepare warm water for your feet," he said.