The Mind-Reading Mate: Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me?!-Chapter 37: Poison Tester (II)

It had been two days since Edmund left the palace.

Every time Primrose asked the soldiers where he was, they all gave the same infuriating answer, they had no idea.

Which only made her even more irritated.

It felt like she was right back in her first life again. Edmund would disappear for days, leaving her to deal with the beasts alone.

But, at least this time, things were different.

The entire palace was practically walking on eggshells around her. They were pampering her, catering to her every need, and treating her like she might shatter at any moment.

No one dared to raise their voice at her. No one dared to be rude.

Honestly, if she had known that pretending to be suicidal would have this kind of effect, she might have pulled this stunt much sooner.

No.

That sounded terribly wrong.

Let’s not mess with death anymore, it might jinx her for real.

"Your Majesty!"

Solene burst into the room, out of breath.

At this point, Primrose was convinced that Solene had no concept of walking, only running.

"The poison tester ...," Solene took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "He’s here."

Primrose immediately rose from her chair. "Bring him to the receiving room. Now."

Solene nodded and dashed off without another word.

He’s already here?

Primrose hadn’t expected him to arrive this quickly, especially since Solene had warned her that he wasn’t the kind of man who could be rushed.

Still, it was a relief that he came before Silas returned.

She turned toward one of the maids. "Fix my hair," she ordered, touching the loose strands near her temple.

The maid hurried over, smoothing out her appearance.

Ever since she had gotten rid of Leah, she still hadn’t found a proper lady-in-waiting to assist her.

There were plenty of attendants, but none who truly understood fashion and makeup, none who could enhance her beauty the way she wanted.

Well ... she did have one person in mind.

But she’d have to wait a few more weeks before she could bring her in.

If she remembered correctly, that person was currently off attending an auction in the land of fairies.

Yeah ... she was an auction addict.

And not just any addict, but one who had, on multiple occasions, dug herself into massive debt just because she couldn’t control herself when bidding on expensive, luxurious things.

About six months before Primrose died, her extravagant, reckless lady-in-waiting had met a rather ridiculous end by falling off a bridge while running from a debt collector.

Primrose sighed.

People like her could never truly change, no matter how much advice they received. But this time, Primrose would do something to make use of her talent in fashion and prevent her from meeting such a ridiculous fate.

She gave herself one last look in the mirror, adjusting a stray strand of hair before heading toward the receiving room.

Solene was already waiting outside, her posture tense, her lips pressed together like she was holding something back.

Which could only mean one thing, the poison tester wasn’t exactly a friendly man.

"Your Majesty," Solene spoke before Primrose could enter. "Are you sure you want to meet this man? What if I find someone else? Someone a little ... nicer?"

[This man is such a damn headache!]

[He cursed at me so many times just because I sent him an urgent letter!]

[What if he’s rude to Her Majesty too?! She’s so kind and I’d hate to see her get bullied by that jerk!]

Primrose simply smiled, unfazed by Solene’s concerns.

"Tell me," she asked, her eyes gleaming mischievously, "Do I look beautiful today?"

Solene blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question.

"You’re beautiful, Your Majesty," she answered honestly.

Primrose nodded, completely satisfied. "Then, everything will be just fine."

Because at the end of the day, no one could underestimate the power of beauty.

And once the poison tester saw her face, Primrose seriously doubted he’d still have the nerve to raise his voice against her.

Even the fiercest beasts in the palace would become docile the moment they laid eyes on Primrose.

Her beauty had that effect on people.

Well ... unless, of course, they harbored a deep hatred toward humans. In that case, no amount of charm would make a difference.

"But, Your Majesty—"

Solene barely had time to finish her sentence before Primrose pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Don’t worry, I’ll be fine," Primrose said lightly, showing her a confident smile. "You can wait outside."

Then, before Solene could protest, Primrose had closed the door behind her.

Primrose took a deep breath, smoothing out her dress before turning toward the man sitting in the room.

And for a brief moment, she froze because he looked nothing like she had imagined.

When she had heard the term poison tester, her mind had immediately conjured the image of an aged scholar, an old man with a long white beard, draped in dark robes, surrounded by books and vials of deadly substances.

This man was nothing like that.

He was young or at least, young enough to make her rethink her expectations.

Primrose wasn’t entirely sure how beast aging worked, but if she had to guess, he looked to be in his early thirties.

His skin was as pale as snow, a stark contrast against his long, two-toned hair—half black, half white.

Then, as if sensing her gaze, he slowly lifted his face.

And for a moment, Primrose found herself captivated by his striking purple eyes, the rarest eye color she had ever seen.

But that wasn’t what shocked Primrose the most.

No, the real reason she was momentarily stunned was because this so-called poison tester was dressed like he had lost a bet with a blind tailor.

His outfit was too bright!

He had paired light purple with vibrant yellow, a combination so bright and weird that Primrose nearly wondered if staring at him for too long might damage her vision.

Still, she kept her composure, shifting her expression into a sweet smile.

"You must be Salem Vesper." Primrose started the conversation by using a gentle tone.

She had expected him to return the gesture, to at least pretend to be polite.

Instead, Salem snorted and lazily glanced around the room.

"I suppose I must be, Your Majesty," he said dryly. "Unless there’s someone else here you’re expecting."

[The Queen’s appearance isn’t bad,] Salem thought to himself, his sharp eyes assessing her.

[But her fashion sense is kind of a miss.]

Excuse me?!

Between the two of them, the one with questionable fashion choices was definitely him!