After Transmigrating, I Raised Cubs in the Insectoid Clan - Chapter 19

Samuel stepped quickly into the cockpit. The metal hatch closed swiftly behind him, yet a few wisps of early autumn chill still managed to leak inside. He raised his hand to turn the air conditioning up by one degree and handed the box in his arms to Suter. “These are all your things. Please check them,” he said.

Suter took the box. The contents were nothing extraordinary. They were simply the items that had been confiscated from him before he was imprisoned in the dungeon. Now that they were back in his hands, it was merely a matter of the items returning to their rightful owner. He calmly opened the box. At the very top was his optical computer, followed by a document, and at the very bottom was his military uniform.

His fingertips brushed over the cool surface of the optical computer and eventually stopped on the document. The paper made a slight rustling sound as it was pulled out. The bold black font at the top of the file was particularly striking: Reinstatement Application Approval Form.

By the time they pushed open the front door of their home, the sunlight outside the floor to ceiling windows had taken on a twilight hue. The clock hands rested lazily between four and five. Samuel bent over to change into his slippers, still mindful of their lunch. Suter had barely picked at his rice with his chopsticks and had hardly tasted the signature dishes.

“Take a rest,” Samuel said as he loosened his collar and hung his coat on the rack. “I am going to prepare something to eat.” He walked toward the kitchen as he spoke, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows to reveal his well defined forearms.

Suter followed him to the kitchen door. “Do you need any help?” he asked.

“No,” Samuel replied without looking back. He deftly sliced a cross into a tomato with his knife. He paused for a moment, then turned to Suter and added, “Go and unbox the deliveries.”

In the corner of the living room, the pile of delivery packages had been arranged into a work of art by Xiao Su. Rectangular parcels served as the foundation, square boxes were stacked neatly to form a second layer, and a flat box tied with a ribbon rested tilted at the very top. Xiao Su’s mechanical arm was nimbly adjusting the position of that top box. Seeing Suter approach, the display immediately lit up with a smiling face symbol. The top package bore a Star-net shopping label. Suter picked it up and gave it a gentle shake, causing the parcel to emit a faint, tinkling sound.

Suter knelt on the living room carpet, his knees pressed against his chest as he mechanically used a small knife to slice open one delivery box after another. Most of them contained various small items Samuel had purchased while browsing the Star-net over the past few days. There was a delicate silver chain with a tiny strawberry pendant encrusted with diamond fragments. There were hair accessories, such as silver-blue hair clips and hair ties adorned with small pearls. There was even a pair of fluffy, warm white earmuffs. Some items were not for Suter but were necessities for the household, such as an oil sprayer, a frying pan, and various ceramic bowls and plates.

Suter crouched on the floor to unbox them. As he opened each package, whether it was something bought for him, something for the house, or a simple trinket bought for its beauty, his breathing grew heavier. It felt as if something were lodged in his throat that he could neither swallow nor spit out.

The frosted glass door of the kitchen was pushed open gently, and the rising steam brought with it the sweet fragrance of sweet and sour sauce. Samuel was wearing an apron and holding a peeled sweet and sour braised shrimp. Seeing Suter kneeling on the floor, he fed the shrimp into Suter’s mouth and moved a chair beside him. “The floor is cold,” he noted. “How does it taste?”

Suter looked up and stared fixedly at Samuel. It was as if he had been scalded by the heat escaping from the kitchen door, and the rims of his eyes turned slightly red. He gazed almost stubbornly at Samuel’s face, which appeared exceptionally soft in the mist, even down to the fine smile lines at the corners of his eyes. Suter tried to find a hidden crack in this flawless glaze. However, he found nothing. Everything was perfect, so perfect it was beyond reproach.

Samuel stood there, looking down at him tenderly, patiently waiting for an answer. Suter could see no flaws and no hidden agendas. It was as if Samuel’s love were entirely natural, unconditional, and waiting to be given. Suter lowered his eyes to the small pile of items he had unboxed. He wondered why Samuel was still planning to leave.

He stared at those things, his throat tightening. Gathered together, they looked like fragments of a home, a home that Samuel seemed to truly want to build, yet one he was prepared to leave at any moment. The shrimp meat had long since lost its flavor in his mouth, and the sweet and sour sauce clung to his tongue, tasting bitter in its sweetness. He chewed slowly, as if doing so could delay the time for an answer and allow this moment of warmth to last a little longer. After a long while, he finally nodded. His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible. “It is delicious,” he said.

Xiao Su extended its flexible mechanical claws to help Suter categorize the jewelry he had just unboxed, placing them into a dedicated box in the wardrobe. The box was soon full, so Xiao Su opened the wardrobe door to pull a new one from the bottom.

“Suter!” Xiao Su’s electronic voice suddenly jumped an octave, and an exclamation mark appeared on its display. “You have so many clothes!” It used its mechanical claw to gently poke the cuff of a cashmere coat, its rollers sliding back and forth unconsciously as if mimicking a human stomping their feet in excitement.

Suter sat on the edge of the bed, a seashell necklace tangled between his fingers. The pearls on the chain emitted a soft, mellow glow under the light. Xiao Su’s voice made his fingers tremble, and the edge of a shell lightly scratched his fingertip, leaving a red mark.

“When can I have new clothes too?” Xiao Su asked, tilting its round metal head with an expectant expression on its display. It touched its own smooth outer shell with its mechanical arm and then looked enviously at the various clothes in the wardrobe.

Suter’s gaze moved from the necklace to Xiao Su. This round robot, shaped like a capsule coffee machine, had a crooked strawberry sticker Samuel had drawn for it next to its display. Suter’s own drawing had been washed away. He had almost forgotten the mood he was in when he washed the pattern from his neck. Perhaps he had been indifferent because the color of that pattern had already been rubbed away until almost nothing remained.

Xiao Su’s sensors captured its master’s drifting gaze, and the display dimmed for a moment. It used its mechanical claw to touch the strawberry sticker on its head. This was the only decoration on its entire body. Amid the hum of its processor, it slowly shook its round body as if performing a complex calculation. “Then maybe I should not have them after all,” it said. Its electronic voice was several degrees lower than usual. A hand-drawn crying face appeared on its display, but it quickly switched back to a standard smiling face.

It moved slowly to the corner of the living room to continue organizing the packaging boxes, using its rollers to flatten the empty boxes one by one and stacking them neatly outside the door. Suter followed it into the living room, where three dishes and a soup were already set on the dining table, steaming hot. The kitchen door was open, and he could only see Samuel’s tall, straight back. The dark blue loungewear made Samuel’s shoulder line look exceptionally sharp, and the apron strings tied at his waist swayed gently with the movement of his chopping.

A regular thudding sound came from the cutting board. Samuel was processing the newly bought Suye fruits. The translucent flesh was skillfully sliced open, the pits removed, and the fruit cut into bite sized cubes. There were three of them, which was one more than usual. Ever since Samuel had brought him back here, this rare fruit from the Ninth Planet had appeared consistently in every one of his meals. Sometimes, if he forgot to eat it, Samuel would mash it into a puree to mix into his bedtime milk or make it into jam to spread on his bread.

The expensive price reminded Suter that when he checked his optical computer earlier, he found that not a single cent was missing from his account. In fact, there was a significantly larger balance than before. Under the Empire’s strict marriage laws, the property rights of female insects were completely revoked. After marriage, all assets had to be unconditionally transferred to the male master. Only a few female insects favored by their masters were granted some control over their wealth. For military females who spent years on the battlefield, such a blessing was nearly a dream.

Most military females spent their time with the troops, and the old tricks they learned in school to please male insects had long been forgotten in the bloody cruelty of war. Most male insects married military females for the considerable assets brought by their long years of service, and the hedonistic nature of males would not allow a single star coin to slip through their fingers. Consequently, most military females would fall into poverty shortly after marriage.

This systemic exploitation gave rise to technical experts who operated on the edge of the law. They claimed to be able to perfectly forge consumption records and even quietly transfer assets to encrypted accounts. More accurately, this was the side business of the restless Heven. He had developed a sophisticated algorithmic system that could quietly convert a male insect’s private account into a joint account without triggering bank alarms. Every month, the system would automatically transfer small amounts of funds. The amount was precisely controlled to ensure the male would not notice while he squandered money, yet it was enough to maintain the female’s basic survival needs.

At first, this practice only spread quietly within Heven’s medical department. Later, this secret service spread like wildfire throughout the entire military district. Many newly married military females quietly sought Heven’s help. Heven always accepted everyone and was even bold enough to move his operations directly to Suter’s office.

“You had better behave. The Male Protection Association and the police are not useless,” Suter had said.

Heven leaned back in his chair and tossed a piece of bubblegum into his mouth. He looked at the serious Suter and smiled like a cat that had caught a fish. “You know that our medical department has always followed the principle of saving the dying and helping the injured,” he said, prolonging his tone. “Especially helping those poor souls whose hard earned money is being drained by their own masters. I think what I am doing is good. I cannot just watch them starve to death, can I? Besides, do not think I do not know about you secretly giving them money. You can save one, but there are so many of them. We have to solve the problem at the source, do you understand?”

The blue light from the monitor reflected on Heven’s pale face as hundreds of encrypted transfer records scrolled continuously. Every single one was precise to two decimal places, perfectly hidden within the luxury consumption records of the male insects.

“I just helped Colonel Ide of the Second Military District transfer some money for baby formula last week,” Heven said while blowing a bubble. “His master actually tried to withhold the nutritional supplements for the cub. It is truly disgraceful.” Heven looked up and noticed Suter’s suddenly darkened expression, and he felt somewhat guilty. He remained slumped in his office chair but turned half a circle inconspicuously, pretending to take a deep interest in the evergreen bamboo by the window. His slender fingers plucked a bamboo leaf and rubbed it unconsciously. “Is this not why you are here to support me?”

“I did not come to the military district to clean up after you,” Suter said coldly.

“Do not put it so harshly,” Heven replied, counting on his fingers as if he were discussing the menu for lunch. “If you cannot handle it, there is still Chairman Brunei. If Chairman Brunei cannot handle it, there is still Director Levitz.”

With a crisp snap, the pen in Suter’s hand broke in two. The smile on Heven’s face instantly froze. Suter took a deep breath, pointed at the door, and smiled slightly. “Take your optical computer and get out.”

Heven immediately hurried out. Before leaving, he did not forget to close the door and provoke Suter with a few more words. “Treating me like this! You will get what is coming to you! Hmph!”

Suter wondered if what was coming to him had finally arrived. He did not understand himself. He should have felt fortunate. Over the years in the military, he had seen too many colleagues drained of their last drop of blood by male insects. Those who were once invincible on the battlefield eventually ended up with hunched backs, barely surviving on the charity of their masters. Yet, the emotion surging in his chest felt more like sadness.

This emotion was foreign to him. Because of a male insect, this feeling made him feel more apprehensive than when he learned Samuel wanted to end their matching relationship. He was supposed to play the role of a female insect trapped in a quagmire, yet he did not know when he had become lost in this deception. He could no longer see Samuel clearly, nor could he see himself. He could not distinguish which parts were an act and which were real. He could not tell if the feeling in his chest was the pain of imminent loss or the regret of never truly possessing anything.

He wanted to do something or say something, but his body was beyond his control. He leaned against the kitchen door, hesitating, before finally closing his eyes and allowing himself to be reckless for a moment. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Samuel’s waist. His fingers overlapped over Samuel’s abdomen, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Samuel’s shoulder so his entire upper body was pressed against him.

Samuel stopped his movements and gently held Suter’s overlapping hands. “What is wrong?” he asked, feeling somewhat at a loss.

A tear fell silently, leaving a dark spot-on Samuel’s shirt. Then came a second drop, and a third. Suter closed his eyes and let the tears roll down his cheeks, wetting Samuel’s clothes.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Samuel asked.

Suter shook his head very slowly. “It is just, it is just, I feel a little bit of sadness. But I am also a little bit happy,” he said.

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