I Hate That Jerk of a Spouse - Chapter 10

Do you need a mental clearing? Blocking memories / Beating the scum

Having one of his wrists tightly gripped, Leslie could only use his free hand to work hard at soothing Casper’s suddenly collapsing emotions.

Smoothing out the messy, frost-blue hair at the back of Casper’s head and gently kneading his tense neck and spine, Leslie patiently and tenderly stroked the hair, just like grooming a large cat, to smooth out every strand that had been agitated in the opposite direction.

The slowly released wild rose pheromone was fresh and sweet, lingering at his side. It created the bright, warm tones of a spring garden, silently banishing the obscure shadows.

At this moment, it was as if their roles had reversed. The older Casper shed all his cold and rigid masks, looking like an aggrieved and bewildered child seeking the gentle comfort he had never received.

Leslie patiently waited for his emotions to stabilize. He was not a stranger to this, and was, in fact, exceptionally skilled at it.

Once the insectoid’s breathing in his arms grew steady and his aura became peaceful, Leslie asked, “Do you need a mental clearing, Casper?”

The muscles that had just relaxed stiffened instantly. Casper remained silent, but he did not refuse.

Leslie used one hand to lift Casper’s chin, pressing delicate kisses to his nose tip, cheeks, and the corners of his mouth. There was no pressure or conquest, only pure, intimate affection.

His voice was gentle and sweet, like an apple pie bitten into while admiring the flying snow outside the window before a winter fireplace: “Give me a chance, will you?”

Their pressed cheeks and light, scattered kisses acted as a fluid entering the heart through a keyhole, bringing bright sunlight and fresh air, exposing every speck of dust in the room.

Casper released the slender, fair wrist he had been holding. He buried his face in the fragrant crook of Leslie’s neck, his hands loosely circling Leslie’s waist, as if in confinement, or perhaps, in reliance.

He did not know if his dirty and chaotic mental domain would shock the Prince who had grown up in light and love, nor did he know if his broken and miserable past would disgust the Prince.

But he had already lost everything. Everything he possessed belonged to the Leslie who had saved him from purgatory, including his life and his memories.

“Okay,” Casper heard himself say.

Gentle mental power invaded Casper’s mental domain bit by bit, circling the outer perimeter and touching lightly, cautiously probing.

Silver-white streams of light gradually propped up the collapsed ramparts, mending the cracks and perfecting the repair of the originally dilapidated walls.

Following the intricate mental threads, Leslie arrived at the center of Casper’s mental domain. It was withered and dead, with mental threads tangled together, tightening more and more. Under the friction, countless weak mental threads snapped with a “pop,” hanging down limply and helplessly before gradually shattering and dissipating.

The silver-white streams of light wrapped around the clusters of mental threads, patiently and tenderly untying the knots, gently smoothing out the uneven surfaces until each mental thread lazily stretched out within the pale golden halo of mental light.

The intimate mental contact allowed Leslie to read many of Casper’s memories, which were mostly in dark, grey tones filled with cold, hateful emotions. He saw Casper struggling to survive in the slums, Casper risking his life for merit on the front lines, and Casper rising step by step while trampling all doubts and sarcasm under his feet.

He felt heartbroken, yet proud.

His femme consort had cut and polished himself well; that was a dazzling fire that even darkness could not conceal.

Until Leslie saw the scene where his treasure was thoroughly shattered.

He froze.

For an insectoid with a concerning mental state, a mental clearing is an exceptionally comfortable experience. It feels as if all the bristled fur has been smoothed out, with the added bonus of caresses and kisses.

Casper relaxed unconsciously, his entire body sinking into a sea of soft clouds. It was not until a clear tear dropped onto his heart that he was awakened; it was ice-cold and biting.

He wanted to look up, but his neck was pressed down. More cold tears dripped onto the side of his neck, winding their way down and sliding over his heart.

“Your Highness! ”

Casper felt profoundly bewildered. He did not know what had happened, but perhaps Leslie had been frightened by his memories. To a delicate male insectoid, every one of his memories could potentially shock his sensitive and fragile nerves.

“Your Highness, those things are all in the past. Do not be afraid.”

He could only offer such clumsy comfort.

But Leslie could not hear it at all.

His heart ached to the extreme; he could not even make a sound of crying, and only the tears falling drop by drop silently vented his sorrow and pain.

After recovering from that heart-wrenching pain, Leslie held Casper’s face with trembling hands. His fingertips gently stroked under Casper’s eyes. Looking at those docile, emerald-green eyes, his heart cramped in waves.

How could it be in the past? How could the harm that has already occurred be treated as if nothing happened?

Closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against Casper’s, Leslie felt he was in pain everywhere. Those distorted scenes still remained on his retinas; they were the seeds of the initial nightmare that would not fade.

A storm surged within his mental domain, and the sound of crumbling ramparts echoed in his mind. Under the immense mental stimulation, his surging mental power broke through the shackles of his rank, reaching a brand-new realm.

The sudden breakthrough in rank cleared Leslie’s mind, and a crazy decision emerged in his brain.

He pulled back, stared into Casper’s eyes, and asked very gently, “Casper, do you love me?”

The golden eyes, washed by tears, were filled with love and heartache. Casper’s heart felt unbearably sore.

After learning of his filthy past, Leslie did not show disgust or abandonment. Instead, he showed love that was about to overflow and the visceral pain that had rolled down as tears.

His Highness, why is he so good?

Since he is this good, how could I not love him?

For the first time, Casper cast aside all his concerns, dropped all his defenses, and revealed his heart with absolute sincerity to declare his love.

“Yes, Your Highness. I love you.”

So very… very much.

Leslie looked at those emerald-green eyes, filled with love and utter docility.

They looked exactly like polished jade, with all their sharp edges ground away, becoming warm and pleasing to the touch.

But that was not how he remembered Casper.

The Casper in his memories had emerald-green eyes flashing with dazzling fire; they were emeralds that had been meticulously cut and polished, with clear and distinct edges.

Casper, who had crawled up from a low-level soldier to the rank of Admiral by accumulating merit bit by bit, had carved himself well. His ambition and resilience were the best blades, and he had used his own efforts to create a fire that belonged solely to him.

But now, all those brilliant and dazzling radiances had vanished.

Leslie laughed, so happy and yet so sad.

The insectoid he loved also loved him. That was good.

If this love had not been born from the great suffering Casper had endured, he would have been very happy.

He gently pressed a kiss to Casper’s brow.

“That is good.”

The next instant, silver-white mental streams swept through Casper’s mental domain, swiftly and precisely picking out those tumor-like memories, forcibly suppressing and sealing them.

The last memory Casper had before falling into a deep sleep was Leslie watching him with gentle yet sorrowful eyes, with crystal-clear teardrops rolling down one by one.

“Forget it.”

Leslie pressed a kiss to the forehead of the unconscious Casper, with the utmost cherish.

If this love must have your pain as its source, then I would rather it did not exist.

Riter Gray, drunk and swaying, walked down the street, followed not far behind by a submissive servant.

It was the deepest darkness before dawn. The ecological planet, which was not highly developed, had no streets ablaze with lights all night, and the sporadic street lamps had also entered standby mode at this hour.

A bang rang out next to Riter’s ear. He was so startled that his drunkenness dissipated quite a bit. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw that the servant acting as his guard had already been knocked unconscious. Beside him, an insectoid cloaked in a pitch-black cape turned toward him.

His mind was screaming wildly, shouting danger, but his body was like a puddle of mud; he could not move a step.

Knocked to the ground by a fierce punch, Riter curled up and covered his abdomen, too much in pain even to scream.

Punches fell upon him like a violent storm, each one landing solidly on his flesh. He was in such pain his face contorted.

One hand grabbed his hair and hauled him up by force. The next second, he was struck so hard he lost a tooth.

Looking at Riter Gray, who was curled on the ground like a dead dog, Leslie’s face, hidden under the hood, was as cold as frost, and his golden eyes turned into extremely cruel vertical slits.

His SS-rank mental power ruthlessly invaded the A-rank male insectoid’s mental domain, rummaging through his memories at will, searching for those countless heinous crimes.

Once he found what he was looking for, Leslie’s voice, made eerie and raspy by a voice changer, spoke up: “This is just the beginning.”

He would make every insectoid who had played a part in this oppression pay the price they deserved.

After speaking, Leslie raised his hand to summon a wormhole and returned directly to the sun-drenched flower garden on the other side of the planet.

His femme consort was still waiting for him; he could not stay away for too long.

Leslie returned to the small flower garden villa and headed straight for the bathroom to wash up. He could not tolerate the sticky pheromones and acrid smell of alcohol on his body for even a second longer.

Must! Immediately! Right now! Wash it clean!

After wrapping himself in layers of towels and scrubbing himself until he smelled fragrant, Leslie let out a long sigh of relief.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, he snuggled up to Casper, affectionately pressing his fair, tender face against the back of Casper’s hand, rubbing until the mint scent settled his flustered mind, and he finally felt completely settled.

By relying on the rank suppression of SS over S, and the male insectoid’s superior control over mental power compared to females, Leslie could guarantee that as long as he did not undo it, Casper would never again recall those tragic memories that had long since become the past.

He did not want that love Casper had derived from gratitude; that was merely a pathological affection placed upon him only because he was the one who had saved Casper from purgatory.

He wanted a healthy, stable, and pure love that grew under the sunlight.

One that did not need to be mixed with blood and tears, did not need to be full of fear, and did not need to involve tormenting oneself with anxieties and loss.

Since they had been reborn, it meant Heaven was willing to give them a second chance.

No one could force Casper to make a choice not even Leslie himself.

When Casper woke up, he was distracted by the magnificent sunset outside the window. Following the fresh, sweet scent of wild roses, he walked to the window and saw Leslie down below, worrying over a charcoal stove.

Sensing the gaze upon him, Leslie looked up at the source and then beamed a bright, sunny smile.

“Casper! We are having barbecue tonight! You make it!”

The exquisite and beautiful male insectoid stood amidst a sea of swaying pink and purple flowers. A gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers and pheromones. It was hard to tell whether the fragrance was more intoxicating, or if the smile, utterly free of gloom, on that bright, vibrant face was even more so.

Casper felt his brain go dull. He felt as if he had just had a dream, but he could not remember the content of the dream at all.

It probably was not an important dream anyway.

He nodded to the Prince downstairs, the corners of his lips curving into a dashing arc.

“Okay.”

His skill at making barbecue was actually quite good. When Leslie was in the service, he would often squeeze up to Casper’s side during campfire parties, staring eagerly but without saying a word.

He would be teased a bit and his eyes would start to tear up, but he would soon be coaxed back to happiness by a skewer of grilled meat.

Truly, too cute.

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