Freya's POV
Soon after, production commenced on The Luna of the Lycan King in a discreet manner.
No media notifications were issued, and news of the filming kickoff remained undisclosed on all platforms.
Even every cast and crew member signed a non-disclosure agreement, obligating them to refrain from uploading any photos, videos, or audio recordings related to the shooting location.
Violation of the contract would result in termination, fines, and a threefold payment of liquidated damages.
The opening ceremony proceeded exceptionally smoothly.
On that occasion, I finally had the chance to meet the male and female lead actors of the drama.
Perhaps due to some unknown reasons, the pace of filming picked up right from the outset.
A member of the crew divulged that Michael aimed to wrap up the production before the year's end.
While my role wasn't extensive, it was rather diverse in nature.
Following a full day of shooting, I felt fine aside from the discomfort caused by the weighty costumes.
The actors handpicked by Michael, be they main or supporting cast, were all in remarkable physical condition and acting skills.
Relatively speaking, I excelled in the action scenes, but I lagged behind in nuanced performances. However, thanks to Michael's patient guidance, I managed to deliver my best.
With Michael's steady mentorship, my progress on set was evident to everyone.
In contrast to my hectic schedule, Kingsley seemed a bit down and weird lately.
Since our argument the other day, communication had dwindled, even though we shared a residence.
Recently, I had been rising earlier than him and returning home later, leaving us with no opportunity to converse, despite sharing the same living space.
Yet, this newfound distance relieved much of the pressure I felt and spared me from overthinking how to interact with Kingsley.
This evening, around nine, I arrived home once more to find Kingsley absent, and I paid little mind.
After taking a shower and partially drying my hair, I lay down.
After a while, the door suddenly creaked open, ushering in a wave of noise.
"Slow down and mind your head."
I immediately recognized Mark's voice.
I quickly got up, exited the house, and peered down the stairs to see Mark assisting a drunken Kingsley towards the couch.
Mark glanced up, spotting me, and urgently called out, "Come help, Freya. I had no idea what happened to Kingsley. He didn't say anything and just drank at the bar tonight. I had to drive him all the way back here, and God, he's heavy."
Alcohol didn't affect werewolves much, but Kingsley was clearly intoxicated, so I could imagine he must have consumed quite a bit.
Listening to Mark's grumbling, I dashed down the stairs.
As I reached the bottom, Mark had already settled the inebriated Kingsley on the couch, while he stood next to him, breathing heavily, and said, "He's really too heavy."
"Freya, I did my part delivering him, so I'll leave you to it." Mark was about to head out as his breathing gradually calmed.
I nodded and walked him to the door. "Thanks for bringing him back."
Once Mark departed, I turned back to reenter the living room.
The next moment, I heard a noise from behind me, as if something had fallen to the floor.
I glanced over to find Kingsley now sitting paralyzed on the ground, his head making contact with the floor, leaving a red mark.
He sat there with a frown on his face.
I crouched down, extended my hand, and waved it in front of Kingsley's eyes, asking, "Kingsley, can you hear me?"
Kingsley frowned and stared at me, his eyes confused, lips pursed, but not a word escaped his lips.
This was his typical state when he was drunk.
While others might either slump over in sleep or act wildly when getting drunk, Kingsley belonged to the third category.
When he got drunk, his brain seemed unable to function properly.
He would put on a facade, appearing sober, yet in reality, his mind turned to mush.
He resembled a harmless little wolfdog, in stark contrast to his usual mean and overbearing demeanor.
This was why Jeremy always helped Kingsley with business negotiations and drinking games. Otherwise, with Kingsley in this state, he would be susceptible to being taken advantage of or even abducted and sold while drunk.
"Who are you?" Kingsley asked in a hushed tone, rubbing his temples and gazing at me with a puzzled expression, his head cocked to the side.
I raised an eyebrow, wondering to myself if he had lost his memory due to drinking.
Suddenly, feeling playful and thinking about how he usually treats me meanly, I narrowed my eyes and said in a teasing manner, "Don't even recognize Mom, good boy?"
"Mom?"
"Yes," I replied, a wicked smile forming on my lips.
I then reached for my cell phone, intending to capture evidence for later use in humiliating Kingsley.
However, just before I started recording, my wrist was unexpectedly grabbed by Kingsley. "Are you Freya?"
Oh, shit!
"Did he sober up that quickly?" I mused silently.
Looking up, I realized that Kingsley still wore the same vacant expression as before—clearly not sober at all.
"My head... It hurts so much..." Kingsley grumbled with a wronged face.
He frowned, suddenly lowering his head and placing my hand on his forehead, gently rubbing it.
Observing his puppy-like display of seeking care, a strange feeling welled up within me.
Why was Kingsley so cute in his drunken state?
"You're drunk, so of course you have a headache," I remarked, attempting to pull my hand away, but Kingsley held onto it firmly.
"No, it's a headache caused by thinking of you," he said with utter seriousness.
The corner of my mouth twitched. "Is that so?"
Kingsley placed my hand on his chest and said with a touch of foolishness, "You always... get on my nerves. Wanting to reject me and leave me, fighting with me, ignoring me... You ignoring me annoys me the most. It makes me sad, and it makes my wolf sad too."
I froze, having no idea how to respond.
Kingsley inched closer, resting his head gently in my arms. "My wolf... He misses you."
For a moment, it was as if I could hear his wolf purring contentedly in my embrace.
Feeling the rhythm of his hearty heartbeat through his clothing, I whispered, "Why does it annoy you that I'm ignoring you?"
However, my question remained unanswered.
When I glanced down, I found Kingsley fast asleep.
I sighed.
This damn Kingsley. He was always like this—saying things that made me care without making them clear.