After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 12

Samuel stated that he would consider the matter.

Before he left, the doctor handed him a business card and mentioned that Samuel could contact him if necessary. The card carried a very strong fragrance. Samuel suffered from mild rhinitis and could not tolerate such pungent scents, but he could not bring himself to reject the gesture in person. More importantly, he knew he would inevitably need to consult the doctor regarding Suter’s physical condition. With this in mind, he took the business card and placed it in his coat pocket.

The lights in the hospital corridor were dim. Suter remained hidden in the shadows behind a door at the end of the hallway, his slender fingers prying the door open just enough to create an imperceptible crack. Like a stalking leopard, he stared through the gap at the office where he and Samuel had parted; this was the place where Samuel had promised to wait for him.

But Samuel was not there. He had broken his word.

Fingering his cuff, Suter stared toward the end of the corridor with a heavy gaze. His face remained expressionless, yet an undercurrent surged deep within his emerald eyes. It was not until Samuel’s figure finally appeared around the corner and sat down at the agreed spot as if nothing had happened that Suter’s tense jawline relaxed slightly. He quirked an eyebrow, and a cryptic, soft scoff escaped his lips.

He looked down at his watch, his silver hair glinting coldly even in the dark, and waited for the minute hand to slowly sweep across the dial. Fifteen minutes was long enough to let his Master taste the bitterness of waiting as well. Afterward, he feigned the typical surprise a female sub-insect displays upon seeing his Master, emerging from the stairwell to approach Samuel.

As the distance closed, a cloying floral scent suddenly invaded his nostrils. This was not Samuel’s scent; it was the smell of a stranger. The realization caused his pupils to contract sharply.

“I have finished my check-up,” he said, his voice rising with a calculated tone.

Only he knew that the strange fragrance was coiling around his heart like a venomous snake, causing his stomach to cramp. His approaching steps did not falter, and he controlled his facial expression perfectly, yet the jealousy in his eyes was almost tangible. Which insect dared to leave a scent on his possession? He continued to approach naturally, letting the pungent aroma irritate his senses. The curve of his lips remained steady, but the dark tide in his eyes betrayed his true emotions. It was the dangerous glint of a beast discovering its territory had been invaded.

“Yes, that is wonderful,” Samuel said. He looked over Suter carefully and asked, “Do you feel unwell anywhere?”

“No,” Suter replied. The answer was as fast as a reflex.

A flash of understanding crossed Samuel’s eyes, but he did not call him out. He turned and knocked lightly on the office door. When he pushed the door open, the doctor inside visibly flinched, nearly knocking over the teacup beside him.

“Regarding his examination reports,” Samuel’s voice was gentle, yet it caused a layer of cold sweat to break out on the doctor’s back. “When can we receive the results?”

Engels’ fingers trembled as they slid across the keyboard. The mouse wheel made intermittent clicking sounds like a dying animal.

“At the earliest, it will be the day after tomorrow, Your Excellency,” he stammered. His gaze reflexively drifted toward Suter, only to frantically look away upon meeting those icy green eyes. “The blood work and mental power tests take a bit longer, but the rest of the basic reports are already finished.”

Samuel inquired about several items in the basic reports. After confirming that all indicators were within the normal range, his tense shoulders finally relaxed.

“Say goodbye to the doctor,” Samuel said, patting Suter’s shoulder.

“Goodbye, Doctor,” Suter said. There was a subtle pause in his voice and his expression was meaningful. He was a completely different person from the “good boy” who had just been speaking to Samuel. Those jade-like eyes swept over coldly, revealing a faint, chilling smirk that made Engels feel as if he had fallen into a frozen cellar.

As they left, the doctor bowed so low his waist nearly snapped. He did not dare straighten up until the taillights of the hovercar disappeared into the twilight. The back of his white lab coat was soaked through, feeling chilly against his skin in the night breeze.

“Insects God above, I have survived another day,” he whispered. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and watched the direction where the car lights had vanished.

Inside the quiet space of the aircraft, there was only the slight hum of the engine. Suter sat straight-backed in the passenger seat. He was restless, his fingers nimbly smoothing out every crease on his clothes. This was merely a distraction; his gaze was like an invisible thread, tightly wound around Samuel’s every movement.

Samuel’s long fingers tapped lightly on the control panel. He drove until they reached a flat main road before activating the autopilot mode. He opened his light-computer, the blue light of the screen reflecting on his profile and highlighting his furrowed brow. The words “Mental Power Riot Symptoms” flashed across the webpage, a detail Suter caught immediately.

The faint floral scent lingering in the air was like a thorn constantly pricking Suter’s nerves. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he finally spoke.

“Sir,” his voice was an octave lower than usual. “Just now, while I was doing the check-up, where did you go?”

His fingers gripped the fabric at his knees, making him look nervous. His gaze flickered, but he caught every subtle change on Samuel’s face. This sentence had been rehearsed in his mind for so long that his voice trembled slightly. Inwardly, he berated himself for his impulsiveness, yet he could not control the surging bitterness. He desperately wanted to know what Samuel was doing, who he met, and what they discussed during every second they were apart. He was afraid to hear the answer, yet he could not endure the torment of the unknown.

“I booked a specialist appointment for you this afternoon and consulted the doctor about your health,” Samuel looked up and told him seriously. “If you feel unwell anywhere, you must tell me. Do you understand?”

Suter was stunned. He realized what Samuel might be referring to. Last night, after returning home from the supermarket, he had suddenly collapsed. Intense pain had radiated from his chest. Even with the powerful constitution of an S-rank insect, he had felt fragile in the face of such agony. But he wished to keep those scars and that pain hidden in the darkness forever. He did not want anyone to know his weaknesses. He had to remain an iron fortress.

Yet the concern in Samuel’s eyes made him long to draw closer while simultaneously wanting to hide. The neon lights outside cast shifting shadows on Suter’s face. He wanted Samuel to always see his best side. He would manage the horror of that pain himself.

“No,” Suter replied calmly. “There is nothing wrong with my body.”

Samuel looked at him deeply but did not answer immediately. The aircraft traveled smoothly, the hum of the engine filling the silence. Samuel watched Suter’s pursed lips and slightly lowered head. He looked like a stubborn child. He sighed unconsciously.

“If you really are sick, we will go to the hospital for treatment,” Samuel said, softening his voice.

Suter turned his head, his emerald eyes looking straight at him. “And if I am not?”

This simple question hit Samuel like a heavy hammer. He thought of Suter’s fate in the original story, though everything seemed to have changed due to the explosion and Samuel’s arrival. Suter’s physical examination showed no problems for now, yet Samuel still felt an inexplicable sense of panic.

His fingers stopped mid-air. The air inside the aircraft seemed to solidify, with only the faint blue light from the dashboard flickering between them. Samuel’s fingertips gripped the armrest as a buried memory haunted his mind: the pungent smell of disinfectant, the pale hospital lights, and his father’s body covered in tubes. He had been so small then, held in his sister’s arms, looking through the ICU glass at the man who always smiled gently.

“Dad!” He remembered how he had pounded on the glass and screamed for his father to open his eyes. But the person who loved telling him stories never woke up again.

Samuel leaned back against the seat. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “That will not happen.”

The words were almost inaudible, yet they carried immense weight. Samuel’s gaze landed on Suter, but he seemed to be looking at something far away. The losses he had endured turned into a promise to the person before him.

On the day Samuel was born, his mother died. During his childhood, because they could not afford medical expenses, his father’s death became his eternal nightmare. In the hospital corridor, his sister’s trembling hug and her words—”Xiao Ci, I only have you now”—were branded into his memory. In his youth, he had naively thought that as long as he earned enough money, he could save everyone he cherished. He worked tirelessly until his company went public, believing the nightmare had ended.

Then, an overseas phone call dragged him back into the abyss. His sister lay on the hospital bed, as pale as paper. He knelt by her side, holding her cooling hand as the heart monitor wailed. His childish fantasy that money could save everything shattered in that instant.

Samuel’s breathing became heavy. Those losses had turned into a near-obsessive fear of losing someone else. At this moment, Suter’s silence reflected the deepest scars in Samuel’s heart. He traced his thumb over Suter’s cheek repeatedly, his eyes filled with pain as he spoke.

“I will not let anything happen to you.”

He did not know if he was saying this to Suter or to himself. He only knew he could not bear to lose someone again.

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