After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 18

In short, after experiencing some emotional turbulence, the two finally reached their destination.

It was a tailor shop with a somewhat antiquated decor. Inside sat an old man with thinning white hair wearing a monocle. A wind chime hung on the door, swaying and ringing whenever someone entered.

Samuel’s expression remained normal, his face as calm as a deep pool of water. Only Suter, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, could perceive the tension hidden beneath the surface. Samuel’s palm had long been soaked with cold sweat, the damp sensation faintly detectable between their interlaced fingers.

Suter looked sideways without making it obvious, his gaze skimming over Samuel’s profile as he spoke with the shopkeeper. Samuel’s deliberately slowed speech hid a certain awkwardness, and unprofessional terminology hovered between his lips, yet unexpectedly revealed traces of meticulous preparation in the small details.

However, those painstaking preparations were like arrows aimed at a bullseye that missed the mark, landing instead in irrelevant corners.

Suter had stepped into this dark alley many times. Sometimes it was to rescue hostages, other times to execute special missions. The notorious red-light district behind the alley was a nightmare for many female insects. Female insects trafficked here often had their wings cruelly broken, becoming playthings for male insects with “special tastes.”

Desire, power, and distorted humanity grew wildly here, with all greed becoming increasingly bloated, soaked in alcohol. In stark contrast stood the extremely luxurious mall at the mouth of the alley—bright and beautiful, like a clear mirror reflecting the decency and elegance of high society.

Connecting these two worlds was this narrow, deep alley and the inconspicuous little tailor shop in its center. On the surface, it was just an old custom clothing store; in reality, its clientele consisted of male insects pursuing “special tastes.” This was a lineage of filthy transactions, carefully whitewashed by those with intent, and even widely publicized online as a high-end custom service.

Suter’s gaze slowly swept across the room, every inch of his scrutiny carrying a cold weight. Finally, it landed on the shopkeeper talking to Samuel.

He was an old female insect whose greasy gaze licked over Suter’s entire body. The naked greed in the man’s eyes almost solidified, mixed with a sickening tremor of excitement. Suter did not look away; instead, he met that gaze directly. His dark green eyes looked over calmly yet were like unsheathed blades. The oppressive aura of an absolute superior made the shopkeeper freeze instantly, cold sweat seeping from his forehead.

Realizing he had likely provoked a powerful figure he could not afford to offend, the shopkeeper hurriedly looked away. Suter tilted his head slightly, his silver forelock brushing his brow bone. In the cast shadow, the corners of his mouth curled into a smile—a curve devoid of warmth. This smile made him look exactly like a raptor evaluating its prey: elegant, precise, and deadly.

Samuel quickly flipped through the catalog of finished products handed over by the shopkeeper, his brow furrowing tighter with every page. The complex embroidery patterns meandered across the fabric; though seemingly beautiful, they faintly exuded an uncomfortable suggestion. Entwining vines looked like binding ropes, and blooming flowers resembled private organs. He slammed the catalog shut with a sharp snap.

“Are there any simpler styles?” Samuel frowned. “Normal ones.”

The shopkeeper’s cloudy eyes rolled as he slowly pulled a dusty catalog from the bottom of the counter. Dust danced in the sunlight, revealing the faded words “Basic Styles” on the cover. Samuel’s gaze finally rested briefly on several sets of relatively elegant styles.

He forced himself to think rationally. The races of this world had inscribed reproduction into their genes; patterns that seemed overly explicit to him might be nothing more than natural expressions in their eyes. He pursed his lips, suppressed the subtle sense of dissonance in his heart, and squeezed Suter’s fingers, gesturing for him to come closer. Suter leaned in understandingly, bringing a draft of warm air with him.

“The fabric is good,” Suter evaluated in a low voice, his well-defined fingers sliding across the collar of a sample garment. Even by his demanding standards, the tailoring of these clothes was excellent, the stitching fine and neat, and the lining made of high-quality velvet.

Although the purpose was despicable, the craftsmanship was indeed irreproachable.

Samuel felt the warmth from Suter’s fingertips, and his tense nerves relaxed slightly. He turned his head toward the other and found those dark green eyes gazing intently at him. The two finally selected several colors and styles that were low-key yet textured. Among the sets of clothes they ordered, there were both comfortable, soft loungewear and well-tailored casual wear.

For lunch, Samuel intentionally took a long route with Suter, avoiding the bustling and noisy central urban area. They came to an inconspicuous little restaurant with a simple storefront that exuded a warm, lived-in atmosphere. Samuel carefully ordered several of the restaurant’s signature dishes, along with a few that Suter usually enjoyed.

Suter sat quietly opposite him, his gaze scanning the menu without finding anything he particularly wanted to order. When Samuel asked, he simply shook his head gently. In the interval while waiting for the food, Samuel subconsciously followed his muscle memory, using hot water from the kettle to scald the bowls and dishes in front of Suter, arranging them one by one before attending to his own set.

“Does this count as a date?” Suter suddenly asked.

Hearing this, Samuel’s fingers stiffened imperceptibly. He lowered his eyelashes, catching Suter’s thoughtful gaze amidst the rising steam. Was Suter bothered by today’s overly simple arrangements? There were no dew-kissed roses, no carefully selected gifts wrapped in ribbons, and not even a proper dating atmosphere.

Indeed, it was too perfunctory.

Samuel felt a bit annoyed and frowned slightly, his hand pausing as he scalded the bowls. “I am sorry. My planning for today’s itinerary was indeed a bit rushed. The flowers and gifts… I will make it up to you later.”

Suter was momentarily stunned, staring at Samuel with a look of astonishment. “This is… already very good.”

The two men, dressed in formal suits, sat facing each other at the simple wooden dining table like a misplaced oil painting. Suter’s gaze followed a drop of water on the rim of the bowl that was about to fall, and he suddenly felt his eyes burn. When those words escaped his lips, even he was surprised by the unfamiliar trembling in his voice:

“It could not possibly be any better.”

It shouldn’t be any better. Originally, there… should not have been flowers, should not have been gifts, and even this set of tableware personally scalded by Samuel felt excessively extravagant. These tender details piled up like fine sand between his fingers; if there were any more, he feared he would be unable to let go.

He would be unable to let go of exposing Samuel’s lies, unable to let go of the beautiful dream Samuel had woven for him, unable to let go of…

“This is nothing special, Suter.” Samuel’s gaze was too frank, as if he were stating a simple truth. “I am pursuing you, so nothing I do is considered excessive.”

Suter’s lips parted, and words of rebuttal were just at the tip of his tongue…

“Food is served!” the waiter’s shout cut in, drowning out his unspoken words. Rice-porcelain plates holding exquisite dishes landed on the wooden table one after another, the rising steam blurring the vision between the two.

“Your Excellency,” the waiter turned specifically to Samuel and gently set down a glazed wine pot. “This is plum wine gifted by the shop. I wish you a pleasant meal.”

Samuel refrained from saying thank you and simply nodded. After the waiter walked away, he lowered his eyes and turned the bone chopsticks in his hand. He looked at Suter and sighed. “Let’s eat first.”

After lunch, Samuel continued to drive the aircraft, saying he needed to pick something up. After a few minutes, the aircraft stopped at the entrance of the Male Protection Association.

An old acquaintance was already waiting at the main entrance. Samuel rolled down the car window and waved to the sub-insect who had been waiting at the door. The sub-insect walked quickly toward the aircraft. Samuel jumped down and thanked Qisi, who had run over with small steps. “I have troubled you.”

A standard, formulaic smile appeared on Qisi’s face. Every day after work, he practiced in front of the mirror with a chopstick in his mouth, all to be selected as an outstanding employee at this year’s Male Protection Association staff evaluation. The bonus was 10,000 Star Coins, which was quite substantial.

“It is no trouble, Lord Samuel.” He handed the box he was holding to Samuel. “These are the General’s personal belongings, and his light-computer is inside. Everything has undergone a detailed inspection by our Association; there will not be any danger.”

“Alright, thank you.”

Qisi added, “There is one more thing I need to remind you of, Your Excellency.” Qisi operated his light-computer and brought up a formal document with the Male Protection Association’s seal, projecting it between them. “Lord Samuel, according to the Insect Marriage Law, you must complete the marking of your Female Consort within 14 days. Upon successful marking, the insect markings will change color, which will serve as the basis for the Association’s inspection.”

He paused to ensure Samuel understood the importance and then continued: “If you do not complete the marking of your Female Consort within 14 days, according to the law, we will revoke General Suter’s position as Female Consort, and the system will recommend a more suitable Female Consort for you.”

At this point, Qisi cautiously scanned the surroundings. After confirming no one else was nearby, he lowered his voice and added, “However, considering your Female Consort’s… special circumstances, the inspection deadline has been extended to one month.” He pushed up his glasses and his voice returned to normal. “In one month, I will visit with the executioner to confirm the marking status.”

Samuel was stunned for a moment, then realized this was a consideration for Suter’s physical condition. “Alright, thank you for your hard work.”

But this sounded a bit strange. Doing that kind of thing between partners actually required an inspection by others… honestly.

Qisi bowed slightly, a knowing smile in his violet eyes. “You are too kind. This is my duty.” Afterward, he pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, his phoenix eyes narrowing slightly behind the lenses as he quietly observed the young male insect before him. Just as the chairman had said, this Excellency was indeed… a bit different.

His gaze passed over Samuel’s shoulder, looking meaningfully toward the aircraft. “Do you need me to help prepare anything else?”

Samuel shook his head.

Watching the aircraft take flight, Qisi finally shed his disguise. He rubbed his aching cheeks and kicked a pebble on the side of the road. The stone drew a parabola in the air, making a crisp sound as it hit the gilded gates of the Male Protection Association.

“Curse this annual evaluation…” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and swaying toward the oppressive, massive grey-gold building. The setting sun pulled his shadow very long, like a tired snake slowly crawling back into the cage of the system.

After Samuel left, the interior of the aircraft fell into a brief silence, with only the faint hum of the air conditioning system. Suter leaned back against the leather seat, his long legs crossed casually. His dark green eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Samuel’s departing figure like a stalking predator watching its prey.

It was only after Samuel’s figure disappeared from view that Suter leisurely retracted his gaze. His slender fingers were carelessly fiddling with the brand-new light-computer Samuel had given him. Two holographic projections floated before him, the eerie blue glow casting strange shadows on his well-defined face.

In the left projection, playing at eight times speed, was Samuel’s room. In the surveillance footage, every corner of the room was visible. On the right projection, dense streams of data cascaded down like a waterfall; these were the digital footprints Samuel had left on his light-computer over the past few days.

As a matter of routine, he quickly reviewed what had accumulated. The surveillance hadn’t captured much, but in Samuel’s browsing history, he discovered several items that interested him:

Can the pheromones in blood effectively soothe a female insect? Will low-grade pheromones have a negative effect on a female insect? Does mental power guidance at the hospital actually work?

Suter clicked into them one by one, but found nothing worthy of special attention. However, his gaze froze on the most recent search.

How to end a matching relationship without harming the female insect?

His gaze suddenly solidified, and his fingertips hovered over the projection as if nailed by the eerie blue beam. Every word on the screen burned clear marks onto his retina; the strokes of each character were like thin needles, precisely piercing his nerve endings.

Even though the constant temperature system in the room was maintained at his most comfortable 24 degrees, every breath felt like ice shards scraping through his trachea. The light from the projection lengthened his shadow, which crawled up the wall behind him in a distorted manner.

What did this mean?

His knuckles let out a sharp crack as the metal casing of the light-computer was squeezed into several fine cracks. The blue light from the projection cast eerie shadows on his face, cutting that handsome visage into fragments of light and shadow. He moved his gaze and saw the time of the search record: an afternoon three days ago.

What were he and Samuel doing at that time?

They were curled up on the sofa at home watching television. An old-fashioned historical documentary was playing. Suter found it uninteresting and secretly turned his head to watch Samuel’s focused profile, counting the small spots of sunlight projected onto his face through the leaves.

The sun had also shone on him, feeling warm and cozy. Drowsiness gradually crept onto Suter’s eyelids, and he curled his body like a cat basking in the sun. In a daze, he felt fingers brush against his temple, wiping away fine beads of sweat. Then came a breeze carrying the scent of green strawberries, over and over, as light as dandelion fluff.

His fingers, clutching the corner of Samuel’s clothes, tightened slightly, the fabric crumpling in his palm. Half-awake, the documentary narrator was describing a certain massacre, the cold numbers interspersed with the sound effects of screams. Suter buried his face a bit deeper into the crook of Samuel’s shoulder, his voice heavy with sleep, and his hands rested half-hanging on Samuel’s ears. “Samuel, watching these… aren’t you afraid?”

The blue light of the television screen flickered on Samuel’s face, the narratives of betrayal, plunder, and bloody conquest flowing through his pupils. He raised his hand, his fingertips gently grooming the stray hairs at the back of Suter’s head.

“No,” Samuel’s voice was very soft as he lightly patted Suter’s shoulder. “Since I came here, I must understand these things.”

It was a very ordinary afternoon.

Suter raised his hand to cover his face, a short, cold laugh escaping from between his fingers. So it really was like this? Was it… as he had thought all along? It turned out that as early as that lazy afternoon, while he slept peacefully among the dappled shadows, Samuel had already gently and resolutely planned a future without each other.

He had thought Samuel liked him at least a little bit, cared about him a little bit. This tiny, absurd bubble of love that had just arrived in this world was punctured. Indeed, how could something as good as love happen to someone like him?

At some point, his military tie had been pulled open, hanging crookedly around his neck like an unhealed wound. When the sound of Samuel’s footsteps approached, Suter suddenly became quiet again. He slowly, inch by inch, released the hand covering his face, revealing a smile so perfect it was spine-chilling.

He lightly wiped away non-existent tears from the corners of his eyes and locked eyes with Samuel through the window. Those dark eyes still contained a tenderness that made his heart tremble. The sunlight passed through Samuel’s hair and shone on his profile. It was such a perfect angle; even the light and shadow seemed like a carefully calculated trap of tenderness.

In a daze, he thought:

Samuel really, truly fits all his unrealistic fantasies of a future Master.

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