"But how did you end up working with my father?" Primrose asked, narrowing her eyes.
"The ingredients come from Noctvaris, right? You could've made it on your own instead of working with a distillery owned by humans."
"We did try to distill it ourselves," Edmund replied. "But the fruit is extremely difficult to ferment and refine. One small mistake, and instead of becoming a calming drink, it turns into something rotten, even poisonous."
He paused for a moment, then added softly, "And actually … you were the one who told me to work with your father."
Primrose's eyes widened. She stared at him in disbelief.
"Me?" she blinked, confused, glancing around the room like she was searching her memory. "I'm pretty sure we have never met before."
"We did," Edmund said gently. "But maybe you don't remember. It was a long time ago. I think … about ten years back."
Primrose tilted her head, quickly doing the math.
Ten years ago? She would've been … twelve?
