The Male Zerg Cub Doesn’t Want to Be the Cannon Fodder Top - Chapter 4

“Cough, cough.”

The female bug, possessing excellent upbringing and discipline, endured as much as he could before finally letting out a soft cough. The motion caused the wounds all over his body to throb with pain. Maurice kicked off his small boots and climbed onto the bed, using his chubby little hands to gently pat the female bug’s back.

“Are you okay?”

He pulled down the part of his hood that covered his nose and mouth, carefully observing the female bug’s wounds to see if there was any bleeding. Given the severity of the injuries and their current lack of medicine, Maurice felt they would be living together for a long time. He saw no reason to hide his skin color anymore.

Coming from Earth, he naturally felt no shame about it, and since the other party was well-bred and showed no signs of discomfort, Maurice was too lazy to keep his face muffled up at home.

“I am, I am fine, sorry. But please, do not break the laws of the Empire for me,” Eliotte said with a dry throat after a long silence, his body stiffening under the cub’s soft, warm touch while his hands trembled slightly.

Maurice noticed his odd behavior and sighed inwardly, thinking that noble female bugs were indeed sticklers for the rules and deeply brainwashed by the Empire. However, he considerately said nothing more, merely urging the other to continue eating. He picked up a large bowl himself and quickly ate until he was ninety percent full. He gave his cooking a high score of 90, firmly believing the missing ten points were only due to a lack of seasoning.

The eating speed of a college student was incomparable to that of a perfectly mannered noble female bug. Eliotte used Maurice’s mismatched cutlery awkwardly but elegantly, quickly emptying the plate before him. The unfamiliar sensation of fullness brought a surge of warmth and pleasure to his body.

As a female bug of the royal family, he had tasted the delicacies of high-ranking males. His older brother, the current ruler of the Empire, Klein, was not stingy about sending exquisite and delicious meals to his mouth, only to mock him as he knelt without dignity, forcing him to utter words of profound gratitude.

But that food always stuck in his throat, cold and dry, much like Klein’s playful yet greasy gaze that made his stomach churn.

He had never eaten food this hot, food that made him feel this warm. He was almost lost in that warmth.

Accustomed to drinking nutrient solutions, he had never experienced the feeling of being full and was unsure of his own appetite. When the plate became empty, Eliotte froze for a moment, then felt a wave of impropriety. His crimson-gold eyes shifted toward the cub with a hint of unease.

He was truly being too disrespectful. It was not easy for a cub to obtain food; how could he act this way?

“Sorry, I,” Eliotte started.

“Wow!” The chubby cub looked at the slender waist of the black-haired female bug with starry eyes, feeling a bit of admiration for the other’s appetite. Before transmigrating, he was not yet twenty, and since people his age were usually bottomless pits, he often competed with classmates in eating. However, he rarely saw someone with an appetite as good as Eliotte’s. It was not only pleasing to the eye but also gave him, the cook, the joy of feeding someone.

“Wait, there is more, brother! There is more! Eat more so you can recover faster!”

The cub grabbed the empty plate and rushed into the kitchen. Before long, he came back holding the entire pot, pouring all the remaining warm soup into Eliotte’s bowl and placing a whole plate of muffins in front of him.

“Eat, eat! Usually, eating alone, by myself, is not very interesting. Seeing you enjoy the food I made makes me so happy!” Maurice said joyfully, the delight in his eyes genuine. A soft, golden-brown muffin was pressed into Eliotte’s hand by a small, fleshy one, making the corners of his eyes feel slightly warm.

“I, I am a criminal bug. If you knew who I was, you would not want to be associated with me,” Eliotte whispered, his voice even softer than he imagined, whether out of shame for his sins or fear that the chubby cub might actually hear his confession.

“It is fine.”

Maurice heard him, of course. He leaned against the edge of the bed, cupping his chubby face in his hands, showing his pale gray face to the female bug.

“Look at me. Do they not also think gray skin is an ill omen, or that I am abandoned by the Mother Goddess? But I am living just fine. The public is easily misled; you have to tune out their noise. The truth is often unknown, which makes our conviction to seek it even more important.”

Suddenly, the female bug in front of Maurice seemed to freeze. Those eyes, like molten gold, stared fixedly at the gray-skinned cub, his pupils trembling slightly and silently. His pale fingers gripped the still-warm muffin, his Adam’s apple bobbing. After a long while, he spoke.

“The truth, will anyone care?”

Maurice looked at the female bug with some confusion. Even though the other was desperately suppressing an abnormal reaction similar to a PTSD episode due to etiquette and habit, his trembling pupils and bloodless fingers still tipped Maurice off.

The female bug before him was too pale; the excessive blood loss made him look like he would shatter at a touch. Maurice knew well that the wounds, some deep enough to see bone, must be causing unbearable pain. Even if the medicine contained a small amount of pain-relieving herbs, it was a drop in the bucket. The female bug had to be in pain.

Yet, despite carrying a body full of agony and being in a strange environment, he carried himself as if he were in a quiet, elegant hall. This only proved he was skilled at enduring and had become numb to pain and upheaval.

In his previous life, Maurice had seen many people suffering from PTSD or a loss of the will to live after major tragedies. He knew these people needed guidance, help, and professional care. The female bug had nothing; only he, a four-head-tall cub, could do something for him.

Responsibility, sympathy, and an inexplicable heartache weighed on the chubby cub’s heart. The energetic college student rarely slowed his speech, using a childish voice to mimic the soothing, gentle tone of a psychologist.

“They will. The truth always finds us in unexpected ways, and there will always be bugs who will do whatever it takes to find it.”

Speaking of his own profession, the cub got excited. He climbed onto the bed and patted the stiff shoulder of the dazed female bug, proudly puffing out his chest, though because his stomach was too chubby, the rounded belly characteristic of a cub stuck out even more. But that did not matter.

“I care! In a world without truth, all Zerg live in darkness. They can only listen to that monotonous noise, repeating the lies of those in power. But when the truth surfaces, light will shine on them. They will use that light to see the true face of this world and the faces of those in power, those males!”

“And me, my dream is to write big news that shocks the world, to let the light of truth shine in, to build a transparent, honest, equal, and harmonious new world. A new world belonging to all Zerg.”

The more the cub spoke, the more excited he became, his clear eyes shimmering with starlight. Outside, night had fallen. In the tiny wooden house with only two rooms, there was a lamp long since phased out by the Empire. With its energy stone nearly exhausted, it emitted an unstable glow, softly illuminating the cub’s soft, round face.

And that was everything within Eliotte’s sight.

Too many thoughts flashed through his mind: interstellar battlefields with floating limbs, enemies tearing at each other, the loud songs of the rebel uprising, and the deathly pale prison. It was as if he were in a vast, endless white desert. He could not find any heat source. His skin trembled with a craving for touch; pain had become his only relief.

Now, his body was enveloped in the old, warm light of the wooden cabin, and the cub with the soft face had eyes full of anticipation for the world. Eliotte suddenly could not control his hand. He craved the cub’s touch too much, and he craved touching a warm, living thing. He likely had severe skin hunger, something that would bring shame to the royal family. He could barely endure it before, but now, he could not stop himself.

He wanted to touch, to hold the cub in front of him.

He wanted to feel the warmth on the cub’s face, to feel that sun-like brilliance. He wondered if that softness and warmth could penetrate his skin and prove his decaying soul was still alive.

Eliotte lowered his head, gritting his teeth to suppress that rude impulse, his fingers unconsciously sinking into the soft cake. He lifted the muffin to his lips and chewed numbly, tasting a hint of blood.

“Is the cake not good?”

Sensing that the female bug was not enjoying his food, Maurice tilted his head, broke off a piece for himself, and popped it into his mouth.

“Seems I put a bit too little sugar. There is some wild honey in the kitchen; I will go get it. Do you want to dip it?”

Maurice guessed the female bug might have tastes similar to Westerners on Earth, liking heavy, sweet cakes. Just as he was about to wiggle his little butt and climb off the bed to get the honey, a hand suddenly stroked the top of his head.

“No need. It is delicious. Thank you.”

“Hehe.”

The cheerful college student immediately let out a silly laugh. “As long as you like it! Eat more. I did not know your appetite; the steak and soup I made today were a bit light. I will make more tomorrow.”

“Please do not go to any trouble,” Eliotte whispered with some shame, but his hand lingered on the cub’s fluffy head, not pulling away for a long time.

“You are a cub. If we had met earlier, I should have been the one taking care of you.”

Maurice’s hair was fluffy and curled, feeling great to the touch. He did not mind having his head patted, assuming the female bug was simply feeling the protective affection one has for a cub.

He wanted to tell the female bug that he was not actually a cub. After all, this body had hatched sixteen years ago; his four-head-tall height was due to the original owner’s disability. However, female and sub-female cubs did not suffer from growth issues. If he explained clearly, his identity as a male bug would be exposed.

Considering Eliotte’s trauma, Maurice really did not want to take the risk, so he just let his head be patted while he laughed sillily.

Meanwhile, Eliotte’s gaze grew increasingly soft. He looked down at the cub who obediently tilted his face up to let him touch him, defenseless and a bit charmingly naive. The affection in his heart deepened.

The cub’s female father was not around. Considering his status which was not tolerated by the Empire, his father had likely abandoned him or met an unfortunate end. A cub living in isolation, he probably missed his female father very much, to the point where he was completely defenseless toward a strange female bug, exposing all his vulnerabilities without reservation.

If only I could be the cub’s female father, Eliotte thought with a sudden, overwhelming impulse for the first time in his life. He wanted to take care of and protect such a good cub.

He suddenly understood those military seniors who became soft-hearted for their stepchildren; it turned out a cute cub really could wear down a female bug’s cold exterior.

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