I Hate That Jerk of a Spouse - Chapter 9

He was spoiled—Suffering in prison (Viewer discretion is advised!)

Casper’s pride was shattered on the very first day of his incarceration.

In his initial assumptions, he intended to behave well, cooperate with the rehabilitation process, and strive for a sentence reduction. To a High-Grade Bug with a natural lifespan of five hundred years, a fifty-year sentence was not actually that long.

Upon his release, he might even have the chance to serve the Empire again. After all, S-grade female bugs were truly rare, and in consideration of his rank, the Emperor had granted him extra clemency, commuting his original death sentence to imprisonment.

Casper was still full of hope for the future when he entered the prison.

However, he had severely underestimated the influence of the Gray family and the degree of Riter Gray’s malice.

When the second set of suppressors was locked onto him, and he was brought into the execution room in a weakened state to see that twisted, disgusting face of Riter Gray, Casper finally realized how dire the situation was.

His hands were pulled behind his back and bound with chains, forcing him to kneel on the floor. His face was positioned directly in front of Riter’s hollow lower body.

On the night Riter had tried to use high-concentration pheromones to forcibly induce Casper into heat, Casper had sacrificed his last shred of sanity to claw and destroy him. The corrosive toxin of the butterfly species, combined with the highly aggressive energy of his bug veins, had completely destroyed Riter’s entire reproductive system. Not even top-tier repair serum could heal it.

Riter Gray had been submerged in milky-white repair serum, feeling his external wounds heal bit by bit, but there was no sign of regeneration for his destroyed reproductive system. At that moment, he grew to hate Casper with a burning passion.

“Just a lowly, poor female bug, yet you dare to reject me?” Riter thought. “I, Riter Gray, looked at this dirty, low-blooded commoner; it was his good fortune in three lifetimes! He should have been groveling on the ground, gratefully and submissively serving me!”

Riter’s lips curled into a twisted, malicious smile. He whipped Casper across the chin from bottom to top, forcing him to look up. His sharp voice sounded like scrap metal rubbing against sandpaper, causing an instinctive discomfort in any listener.

“My dear General Casper, you surely do not believe you can escape, do you? Do you know what the outcome is for rejecting a noble male bug?”

The luxuriously dressed noble male bug was permeated with a sweet, fresh fragrance. However, when fused with the pheromones Riter released, it created a scent that was overly sweet and cloying, like syrup rotting next to a garbage pile in the scorching sun. The slow-flowing, dirty, sticky liquid attracted necrophagous gutter creatures to creep closer.

Casper was driven to the point of retching by the stench that bordered on rot. He did not know what kind of crazy, malicious retaliation he would face for rejecting a noble male.

When he had rejected Leslie’s invitation for mental grooming, Leslie would merely glare at him without any real intimidation, his eyes reddening, his golden pupils watering as he spoke harsh words, calling Casper ungrateful. But after a while, Leslie would casually mention that he had performed mental grooming for another military female, claiming the results were super effective, while sneakily peeking at Casper with eyes full of hidden expectation.

When he had rejected Leslie’s drunken marriage proposal, Leslie would pretend to be asleep the whole way, then sneakily climb out in the middle of the night, curling himself into a small ball on the rooftop, crying quietly in frustration and grievance, accusing Casper of being a jerk to the moon. That night, he had hidden behind the door, listening to Leslie cry all night; he had stood there all night as well. Before dawn, he had carried the exhausted, sleeping Prince back to the dormitory and wiped the tear stains from his face.

When he had rejected being Leslie’s guide for his physiological awakening, the noble and elegant Prince had accidentally knocked over his teacup. His fingertips were cut by sharp shards of porcelain, but Leslie who was usually afraid of pain seemed not to notice. He looked at Casper while feigning composure, a polite and elegant smile still hanging on his lips, even though the corners of his eyes were quietly flushed, and his voice carried an imperceptible tremor as he said:

“I did not hear you clearly just now. Could you please say that again, General?”

Looking at that bright, fresh bead of blood which seemed particularly eye-catching and increasingly plump on those fair, translucent fingertips Casper felt his breathing stop for a second. His violently pounding heart slammed against his ribs, pulling at the pain in every limb.

At that moment, Casper had wanted to yield. But in the end, after a long silence, he simply stood up, grabbed his overcoat from the chair, kept his face stiff, and said coldly: “I apologize, Your Highness.”

Then, he left without looking back. He was afraid that if he looked for one more second, he would not be able to stop himself.

Casper had never faced any retaliation from Leslie. He had been spoiled.

Leslie’s respect and care for him were too immense. Casper often forgot that there was a chasm of status between them, yet he was always reminded by the most trivial details: he was unworthy. Since he was unworthy, he should not reach out and touch, lest he bring misery upon himself.

Leslie’s affection was too warm and too generous, so much so that Casper had forgotten that noble male bugs were always arrogant and overbearing. He had no knowledge of, and no defense against, the methods that these spoiled male bugs, who were accustomed to being the center of attention, could unleash.

Riter watched with sick pleasure as Casper struggled desperately under his pheromones. Whether it was his ragged breathing or his reddened eyes, it made him incomparably excited. This time, Casper, tightly restricted by two top-tier suppressors, no longer had the strength to resist him.

But this was not enough. How could this little bit of pain be enough to quell the hatred in his heart? Riter Gray took out a cherry-red reagent, ordered his two female slaves to pin Casper down, and plunged the needle directly into the vein on Casper’s neck that led to his heart.

“This is a rare item, General. Enjoy it well.”

Riter sat on the scarlet velvet sofa, rubbing the whip in his hand with unconcealed excitement, watching with keen interest as Casper was forced into a state of pheromone overflow by the reagent.

“How pathetic, Casper. Why does a low-blooded slave become a General? With such a handsome face, if you had just obediently pleased your male master, you might have enjoyed years of favor.”

The S-grade female bug had a superior appearance, far more handsome than the A-grade female slaves he had seen. It was a pity his temperament was too fierce and his bones too hard. Before he could even get a taste, Casper had broken a tooth in his mouth. Riter’s face darkened for a moment, then a sickly, crazed smile surfaced again. He could not use him anymore, but he had plenty of other ways to torture Casper. Take it slow. They had fifty years ahead of them.

The potency of the aphrodisiac was too overwhelming. Casper, whose bug-vein energy was completely suppressed, did not even have the ability to mobilize his energy for purification. His pheromones were forced out completely beyond his control. It was so cold that it felt like falling into an ice cave.

His unfocused pupils could not converge. He could not see the world around him; he could only feel the barbed steel whip lashing against his body, bringing both pain and a bizarre sense of pleasure. It disgusted him to his core. As the reagent took further effect, the light and shadows before Casper’s eyes shifted. Blurred color blocks gradually became clear, revealing an exquisite and beautiful Prince through the mist.

Silver-white long hair draped onto the pitch-black, rough ground. Pale, delicate skin was stained with blood. A pair of golden pupils filled with clear tears. Leslie was trying his best to move toward him, but his wrists and ankles were bound by black chains, dragged back again and again. Casper saw the hard, rough shackles wearing through the delicate skin and flesh. Drops of bright red blood fell onto the stone floor, melting into the tears and gathering into small streams that snaked toward him.

His heart ached so much he could not breathe. He could not help but speak up to persuade him: “Your Highness, don’t come”

Stop coming near me. Stop letting yourself get hurt.

The next second, a lash struck the side of his neck. The sharp, piercing voice dragged him out of the hallucination.

“Your Highness?”

Riter savored this form of address; the deep affection contained within it made his teeth ache. He backhanded another whip across Casper’s blood-stained spine and sneered: “Casper, who are you pining for? Leslie? Is the Second Prince someone a low-class female like you can pine for? Look at yourself. Are you worthy of even a single finger of the Second Prince?”

Riter was astonished by Casper’s audacity. Good heavens! He himself did not dare pine for Levia, yet Casper, a mere commoner, dared to pine for Leslie? After the shock, Riter came up with an even better way to torment Casper.

Another cherry-red reagent was fused into his blood, reaching his brain and heart, diligently doing its job. Casper saw more of Leslie. Under the influence of the drugs, his brain was deceived, mistakenly believing that it was his Prince inflicting these punishments upon him. If it was him, then he was willing. He had already made his Prince sad many times; receiving these punishments was what he deserved.

In the midst of the bone-chilling pain, Casper felt a bizarre sense of satisfaction and peace. However, all the illusory beauty shattered the moment the drug wore off. He was ruthlessly thrown back into the cold reality, forced to face his own ugly state in the video recording. Riter Gray was still saying something in that sharp, unpleasant voice, but Casper could no longer hear anything. Hallucinations and reality intertwined in his mind, one side so beautiful it made a bug intoxicated, the other so filthy it made a bug retch.

Every single day, Casper was tortured by reagents and instruments, and then, when the drug wore off, he was forced to watch the recordings of the reality. He was driven to the brink of insanity.

On the fifteenth day, Casper faintly caught a wisp of wild rose fragrance fresh, natural, sweet, and soothing to the spirit. In that instant, Casper woke up from the lascivious hallucination. Looking at the triumphant, sickly, and twisted face of Riter in front of him, Casper forcefully broke through the blockade of the suppressors. The erupting bug-vein energy followed his bug-form claws, directly piercing through Riter’s chest and crushing his heart.

Seeing the disbelief in Riter’s eyes as they quickly faded into gray, Casper finally showed the first smile he had worn since entering the prison. Yet, he smiled as if he were crying. He vomited large amounts of blood, dragging his weak, powerless body away from Riter Gray. He did not want to die alongside this piece of bug scum. His pale, blood-stained legs trembled incessantly on the black stone floor, and the fluids of his pheromones flowed onto the ground. Casper lay quietly on the slab, awaiting his death.

As his consciousness blurred, Casper thought: “His Highness… would never… treat him like that.”

When Casper opened his eyes again, he was in a medical pod. Sky-blue repair serum surrounded him not a high-grade one, but just enough to keep him alive. Through the thick glass, he faintly heard the warden outside talking to the medic. He heard the name Leslie.

“His Highness… has he come to save him?”

In that moment, what rose in Casper’s heart was not joy, but panic. He tried desperately to curl himself up. He did not want to be seen by Leslie in such a pathetic state. His struggling movements attracted the attention of the warden and the medic. After a brief check to confirm he was not in life-threatening danger, the warden led him toward the prison gate.

“Consider yourself lucky. You have a 100% matching rate with the Second Prince. You have been forced into a match by the Second Prince as his Ci Jun. His Highness is here to pick you up today.”

Casper walked toward the outside mechanically, following the warden. He knew he should not he should not feel joy, he should not feel lucky. He was so filthy; he could not appear in front of Leslie. But he could not help it.

“Just one look, one look is enough. After I look, I can go die.”

A forced match could not be dissolved by divorce; it could only end in widowhood. He was unworthy of the position of Leslie’s Ci Jun. He should return it, return it to a more suitable bug candidate. Just let him be greedy once. Let it be for just one second.

But all his plans collapsed the moment he saw Leslie. In that moment, he only wanted to rush over. To throw himself into that warm, reassuring embrace.

Support