After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 15

In the cool morning air, Suter gently closed the bedroom door, the metal lock letting out a soft click as it engaged. He moved quickly through the hallway; the innate agility of a military insect made his every step as silent as a feline’s.

The induction lights in the corridor turned on automatically as he arrived. Xiao Su’s rounded body was moving at a steady pace through the living room, its vacuum emitting a hum like the buzzing of a bee’s wings. As he passed it, Suter’s gaze uncontrollably drifted to the strawberry sticker on the metal casing. It was a childish pink frosting pattern, and the edges were already starting to curl.

It was truly something.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and the insect markings on the side of his neck burned slightly. How could he have been so fond of such a cloying pattern when he was nineteen? He walked quickly into the kitchen and pulled the door shut behind him, as if he could lock those childish memories outside.

The morning light filtered through the frosted glass window, casting blurred spots of light on the counter. Suter tied on the small strawberry apron that Samuel had specifically bought for him; now, the straps could only barely manage a knot behind his back.

The silhouette reflected in the window glass was sharp. His silver hair fell loosely, faintly revealing a well-defined jawline. The upright shoulders and back unique to military insects stretched the beige pajamas into tight arcs. Those hands, usually accustomed to holding a gun, were currently gripping an eggbeater, and the veins on the back of his hands appeared and disappeared with his movements.

Most striking was that face: the distinct jawline, the high bridge of the nose, and those green eyes used to aiming at targets. This was a face belonging to the battlefield, and it had nothing to do with softness. Suter suddenly tugged at his collar in frustration. A button snapped off, bouncing across the floor and rolling away.

From his interactions with Samuel over the past two days, it seemed Samuel might favor petite and cute sub-insects rather than stiff, uninteresting military insects. As the fried eggs sizzled in the pan, he suddenly remembered the gentleness with which Samuel had patted his back last night. Such a soft touch might never happen again.

If he were to lock Samuel up.

The thought was extinguished the moment it surfaced. The metal spatula spun in his palm as Suter forced himself to focus on flipping the eggs. The morning light cast fragmented spots of light onto the eggs. He flipped the spatula with skill, and his movements were as precise as a military mission: fully cooked ham, sunny-side-up eggs, and several types of salty pickles.

Based on his observations of Samuel at the dining table over the last few days, Samuel did not seem to prefer sweets, but instead had a partiality for salty dishes, always taking a few extra bites of them. Everything was prepared according to the preferences in Suter’s memory.

A metal fork spun in his palm as he performed the final plating. Most of the cooking courses he had taken at school were just theoretical knowledge; re-learning them quickly now was not easy. While carelessly plating the food, Suter stared at the frosted glass of the kitchen door, as if he could see toward the bedroom through it. The second hand of the clock passed 7:25; in five more minutes, Samuel would wake up on time as usual.

“Beep!” Xiao Su’s electronic eyes lit up with red light. Its rounded body pushed open the door and slid to Suter’s feet. Recognizing someone in the kitchen, its cleaning arms rotated in confusion, and a surprised emoticon popped up on its screen. Suter crouched down, his fingertips lightly touching Xiao Su’s metal casing. The cold sensation reminded him of his malicious act a few days ago when he had intentionally caused this little guy to crash.

First, he had intimidated the little robot, successfully causing Xiao Su’s processor to overload and crash. Then, the next day, he had tried to sneakily throw the little robot out of the house while Samuel was in the kitchen. He felt a bit amused, discovering for the first time that he was such a jealous person. He gently stroked the robot’s metal shell. A comfortable expression appeared on Xiao Su’s electronic screen.

“Susu woke up so early today!” the mechanical voice chirped cheerfully.

The name caused Suter’s pupils to contract. His long fingers hovered in mid-air, and his voice involuntarily softened. “What did you call me?”

An exaggerated question mark immediately jumped onto Xiao Su’s display, and its mechanical arms waved theatrically. “Susu, of course! You are Susu, I am Xiao Su, and you are the master of this house!” Its voice suddenly dropped. “And I am just a small robot.”

Suter’s heart skipped a beat. Most household robots have the same factory settings, but after entering a buyer’s home, they update their data according to the master’s needs, such as how to address the master and what time daily work begins. He knelt on one knee, moving closer to Xiao Su’s sensor. “This name, who told it to you? My Master?”

“Samuel said not to call him Master! Call him Sir or just use his name!” Xiao Su’s mechanical arms spun anxiously, nearly slipping on the smooth floor. “Susu is being disobedient again! Samuel will be angry if you do that.”

“Answer me.” Suter’s voice suddenly took on the pressure characteristic of someone who had spent years on the battlefield.

Xiao Su’s electronic eyes flickered twice as it obediently pulled up the voice records. “Data updated last night at 23:47. User Samuel setting: ‘From today on, address Suter as Susu. Status permission set to Female Consort’.”

As Suter stood up, the corners of his mouth curled upward uncontrollably. Wavy lines of grievance flashed on Xiao Su’s electronic screen. “Susu woke up so early to make breakfast, and I have nothing left to do!” Its mechanical arms waved exaggeratedly. “Last night you were already rushing to mop the floor, wipe the tables, and wash the dishes. If this continues, I will be unemployed!”

Just as Suter was about to explain, Xiao Su’s display suddenly turned into a crying face, and its mechanical voice began sobbing. “A small robot with no work will be thrown into the scrapyard on a fringe planet and turned into a pile of scrap metal.” It circled pitifully. “I want to stay with Susu and Samuel forever.”

“What are you two mumbling about?”

A languid voice suddenly cut in. Samuel was leaning against the doorframe, and his black silk pajamas were left open at the collar to reveal his exquisite collarbones. The morning light framed him in a soft silhouette. He squinted at Suter, and his voice was still raspy from sleep. When Suter turned around, Samuel’s gaze lingered on him for a moment.

The silver-haired youth stood tall, his emerald eyes were as calm as a deep pool, and his lips were much redder than they had been yesterday. That beige pajama top, which was clearly a size too small, fit him tightly and outlined a lean waistline. Samuel felt something was not quite right, but he could not figure it out for a moment; he only reminded himself that he had to take Suter out to buy suitable clothes.

“Come here,” Samuel beckoned, turning toward the bathroom. “I will tie up your hair.”

Suter followed closely behind, watching as Samuel took a blue bubble hair tie from behind the mirror cabinet; it was the very kind he used most often as a child. Samuel’s fingers moved through his silver hair, and the movements were as familiar as if they had been performed a thousand times.

“Waking up so early, are you feeling unwell?” Samuel’s voice was close, and his warm breath brushed against Suter’s neck.

“No.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No.”

Suter watched Samuel’s focused profile through the mirror, and his Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily. Samuel’s fingers occasionally brushed against the tip of his ear as he gathered the stray hairs, and it sent a slight shiver through him. Samuel still maintained the habit of looking after him like a young insect cub.

Suter had slept surprisingly deeply last night. The alertness he had developed on the battlefield kept him in a state of light sleep for years; even on the simple field cot in his military office, he always maintained a posture that allowed him to be alert instantly. Every time Hill came over, he would bring a pile of snacks and stuff Suter’s few cabinets full, often teasing him, “A grand General living in an office; those who do not know better would think the military is mistreating you.”

In truth, he just did not want to go back to that empty house. His mansion on the Imperial Planet was exquisitely decorated, yet it was so desolate he could hear his own footsteps. By comparison, the office at least had the sound of night guards walking by and the occasional beep of the communicator, making him feel that he was at least still alive.

Samuel’s fingertips moved through the silver strands of hair, and his movements were gentle to the point of being cautious. He looked down at the figure reflected in the mirror. Yesterday, Suter had only reached his chin, but this morning, the top of Suter’s head was almost touching his brow.

Could the milk from the past few days really have worked?

He chuckled inwardly. He had not expected those seemingly unreliable suggestions left by Seren, his brother whom he had never met, to actually be effective. Samuel’s movements were much more practiced than they had been a few days ago. He remembered when he first tied Suter’s hair a few days prior; the memory of the other’s tensed jawline and whitening knuckles was still fresh. Suter had clearly been in pain from the pulling, yet he had grit his teeth without a word.

It was not until that afternoon that he had accidentally caught Suter in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully loosening the tight strands of hair. Today, Suter’s hair was unexpectedly smooth, and it flowed through his fingers like fine silk without any tangles.

“I did not hurt you, did I?” Samuel asked, releasing his hand with some uncertainty.

Samuel had specifically chosen a new hairstyle he had seen in the fashion section of the Star Network today. He braided the silver hair on both sides and finally secured it neatly at the back of the head with a clip along with the rest of the hair, leaving a few stray strands falling naturally over Suter’s forehead. This hairstyle was both efficient and unexpectedly softened Suter’s overly sharp features.

“Take a look for yourself; is it okay?”

The morning light passed through the gauze curtains, and it cast a soft, warm hue on that always-tense face. Suter blinked slowly. His reflection in the mirror looked both familiar and strange, like a curious fusion of the cold General on the battlefield and the green youth of his memories.

“It suits you well.”

There was an irrepressible smile in Samuel’s voice as his fingertips lightly brushed that unruly silver strand that had not been tied back. But in the next second, his fingers froze in mid-air. He turned his head and closed his eyes in frustration.

It was happening again.

Lately, he could not control these intimate little gestures: the fingertips that stayed a moment too long while straightening a collar, the unconscious ruffling of hair during a goodnight, and the hand that almost caressed the other’s cheek just now. Although he repeatedly told himself to maintain his distance, his body always acted before his reason. He took a step back to put distance between himself and Suter, struggling to calm himself. “Alright, go eat.”

Suter turned around in confusion, and a flash of unease appeared in his emerald eyes. Samuel’s sudden cold attitude left him at a loss.

“What is it? Are you unwell?”

Suter looked at Samuel with concern and reached out to take Samuel’s hand. He suspected that the consecutive days of bloodletting had made Samuel weak. The moment Suter’s cold fingertips touched Samuel’s arm, Samuel froze completely.

“We, I,” Samuel’s voice was incredibly hoarse. He forced himself to move his gaze away from Suter. “I am fine.”

“I am fine,” he repeated, forcing a smile while unobtrusively withdrawing his arm. The temperature from Suter’s fingertips remained on his skin like a burning ember.

“I just,” Samuel avoided his gaze, and his Adam’s apple moved with difficulty.

“Just what?”

“I do not know,” Samuel said, his tone was strained and his face was visibly turning pale.

Everything was a mess in spite of his deliberate attempts to ignore it. He suddenly became somewhat fearful. Regarding his relationship with Suter, everything was going in the opposite direction of his original plan. The original plan was clear: correct the timeline distorted by his intervention and immediately terminate this mistaken matching relationship once Suter recovered. Yet, at some unknown point, that deliberate alienation had turned into an uncontrollable closeness. The care of living together had become mixed with too much selfishness.

He began to crave the silver silk flowing through his fingers while tying Suter’s hair in the morning; he craved the warmth transmitted when their fingers occasionally touched. This transgressive longing had arrived silently, yet it consumed all his reason like a prairie fire. He had become the most greedy thief, stealing warmth that did not belong to him, intimacy that did not belong to him, and even a love that did not belong to him.

He needed to calm down and re-examine this relationship, or end it as soon as possible. Once Suter fully recovered, he would solemnly terminate this matching relationship that had begun with a mistake. And then, perhaps he could start over with a bouquet of violets stained with morning dew; those were the flowers Suter liked, as Samuel had seen him browsing information about them on the Star Network a few days ago. Or he could prepare the newest flavor of nutritional supplement that Suter loved, and start again clumsily and sincerely like a true suitor.

Suter wanted to raise his hand again to touch Samuel’s forehead with the back of his hand. As he raised his arm, his collar opened slightly, revealing the reddened skin on the side of his neck. The carefully drawn strawberry cake pattern had disappeared, leaving only the marks of repeated scrubbing.

Samuel froze in place. Just a few days ago, Suter had been protecting that spot, carefully avoiding it while bathing and refusing to wash it off no matter what. Now, that patch of skin had been scrubbed red, as if to completely erase all traces.

Samuel’s gaze slowly moved upward, and he suddenly noticed the change in Suter’s features. The silhouette was sharper than yesterday, and the jawline was more defined. These subtle changes were skillfully hidden by Suter using stray hairs and by keeping his head down; had it not been for their current proximity, Samuel might have been kept in the dark.

He had completely recovered.

“You.”

Support After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan