Top-Tier Arranged Marriage, but the Dom-Husband Has Amnesia - Chapter 12

Capital Star, Sector West-A6, Kelman Manor.

Abernathy Kelman stood on the lawn in the courtyard, gazing for a long time at the magnificent and ornate manor before him. Behind him, members of the Kelman family arrived one after another. Not far away, three interstellar-capable private insect starships, fully fueled and on standby, sat silently on the largest open space in the center.

Hearing the subtle sound of footsteps behind him, Abernathy Kelman did not turn around. “Have all the insects arrived?”

The butler said, “Just ten minutes ago, Lord Miller formally submitted a divorce application to the Holy Land.”

The head of the Kelman family fell silent for a moment, his face expressionless as he replied, “I understand.”

He took one last look at the Kelman Manor under the sunlight. “Let us go.” Having said this, he turned around and was the first to enter one of the starships.

The members of the Kelman family followed closely behind, stepping onto the three starships one after another. According to the prior arrangements, these three starships would leave the Zerg Federation in one of three ways, either legitimately or covertly, flying separately to the Fragmented Star Zone, the Mechanical Intelligence Alliance, and the Star Spirit Empire.

The three starships launched simultaneously.

There was only the final stretch of the route left before leaving the Capital Star.

The starships flew higher and higher, the buildings of the Capital Star appearing increasingly distant and minuscule. On the starship filled with young insects, Karl Kelman looked unwilling. “Are we just going to leave like this, with our tails between our legs? At least…” At the very least, they could retaliate in a show of force; as long as the price was right, the universe was full of desperate desperadoes.

“We can.”

The Kelman family head was not on this particular starship, and the other females of the younger generation quickly responded, “I heard there is a bunch of fearless ones near the main star system of the Star Spirit civilization. As long as the star coins are sufficient, they would even dare to kidnap members of the imperial royal family. Once we arrive at the Star Spirit Empire, at that time…”

He could not finish his sentence.

A massive starship slowly emerged from the shadows of the spaceport, an invisible targeting laser dot landing on the Kelman family’s starship. In the next second, accompanied by a deafening roar and a boundless expanse of white light, the large starship erupted in a violent tremor, like a bird or beast in its death throes, before crashing down.

The strange starship that caused it all did not leave immediately.

It hovered silently in place for a minute. Soon, another starship flew over, and the two ships completed their docking in just a few seconds. The female culprit clapped his hands and jumped onto the newly arrived starship as if nothing had happened. The high-ranking female piloting it whistled, his tone light and cheerful.

“Well done, brother.” He smiled. “Congratulations on winning a three-year paid long vacation. The bonus has already been transferred to your account at the Alliance Central Bank in advance. It is just the right time to go to the Mechanical Intelligence Alliance for a vacation. Let us go.”

The starship performed several jumps and quickly departed the Capital Star.

Half an hour later, the Federal news channel broadcasted the vicious attack incident at the earliest opportunity. The host’s calm voice drifted through the central hall where the jailers outside the dungeon were stationed, all the way into the narrow prison cell.

“At 15:17 this afternoon, the famous interstellar energy giant Kelman unexpectedly encountered a rebel army attack while traveling by private starship. All three starships were destroyed. Twenty-three family members, including the head of the house, Abernathy Kelman, had no complete biological tissue remaining.”

“Fortunately, the legion’s search and rescue were timely. Eighteen servant insects, including the butler, driver, and head chef, survived.”

“…Lord Miller, the former male master of Abernathy Kelman, escaped the disaster because he did not board the starship. Recently, Lord Miller has submitted a marriage matching application to the Holy Land…”

The dungeon was quiet.

Only the sound of the news report echoed cold and clear in the corridor.

“What a pity,” Igris said with no small amount of regret. “The Kelman family has been prosperous for a hundred years. It looked like they were about to take another step forward, but I never expected they would end up in such a state.”

The dungeon remained silent.

The jailer guarding the door lowered his head even further.

The prisoner’s expression shifted slightly, but he quickly assumed an indifferent look. “You do not need to threaten me, and I do not care about being saddled with a few more charges. Since I have committed such an act as attacking the Saint, I never expected to walk away unscathed with my life. On the contrary, our respected Mr. Councilor, why do you not check whose channels I borrowed to escape in the first place?”

He looked at the young Councilor and laughed dismissively.

“Is it that you do not want to check, or do you not dare to check?”

Igris did not even raise an eyelid.

He tilted his head slightly and nodded toward the jailer on the side, saying coolly, “He is yours.” Igris had no interest in playing boring interrogation games with a stupid insect. It did not matter how stubborn or boisterous the other party was during the process; he only cared about the final result.

The jailer lifted his foot, preparing to step forward and interrogate.

Elton Marlowe glanced at the Councilor, who had exited the cell and was sitting on a sofa a few meters away, waiting for the results in a detached manner. Even after being provoked like this, there was not a hint of anger on the latter’s face. However, the Secretary-General knew that this was precisely a manifestation of his seriousness.

He was about to get serious.

He called out to the jailer, “Let me handle it.”

Half an hour later.

The interrogation door opened silently. The smell of blood was so thick it felt tangible, and it stopped abruptly as the door closed. The Secretary-General took off his gloves and stood still beside Igris, his expression solemn and subtle. Before the Councilor could ask a question, he spoke:

“According to the interrogation results and some intelligence comparisons, the last communication on Adair Burt’s light-brain came from Saint Veronica Hospital. The time was… after the Saint met with the accident.”

A truly amnesiac high-ranking Excellency would obviously not be able to swiftly deduce the identity of the leading insect behind the attack after waking up, contact the other party immediately, and even spare no cost to use his own insect channels to carve out a path through the legion’s net of justice.

In an instant, countless conspiracy theories sprouted in the Secretary-General’s mind.

Igris, however, said, “The amnesia is real.”

The Secretary-General bowed his head and said nothing.

To him, the truth was already obvious, and the Councilor’s words at this moment felt like self-deception. His face revealed nothing, but he felt a little puzzled: Was it not said to be just a political marriage? Could it be that he had turned fake into real, was overcome with excessive grief, and was refusing to believe the facts?

While he was lost in thought, the Councilor stood up abruptly in the next second and walked out without looking back.

Bad.

Judging by Mr. Igris’s demeanor, could it be that he was embarrassed into anger and prepared to go to the hospital to confront the Saint? Elton Marlowe gasped and chased after him, hurriedly contacting the hospital authorities via light-brain while running. He, of course, believed in the poise and cultivation of the Councilor as a high-ranking privileged female.

After all, ever since he had followed this man, the other party had not had a shred of poise to begin with.

It was true that Igris was going to the hospital, but not for the reason the Secretary-General had guessed.

Just as Noah had never questioned him about why he took advantage of his vulnerability when he had amnesia, Igris would not ask the other party why he had chosen to target him specifically.

Setting the destination to the hospital and adjusting the driving mode to automatic, Igris casually took off his coat and threw it on the sofa. He then walked around the coffee table, sat on the other end of the sofa, and closed his eyes to rest.

The amnesia was real.

The intelligence that had been obtained and verified through the Secretary-General’s personal interrogation was also real.

In the past, the Councilor might have been slightly confused. Given his male master’s current power and status, he had long passed the stage of needing to feign amnesia to appear weak before the enemy. What kind of daunting problem could it be that made him willing to lose his memory and enter the game himself?

And now…

Who is it for? It is so hard to guess.

He suspected his male master was at odds with him, and he had evidence.

The aircraft descended slowly, and the hospital was within reach.

Igris rose neatly and walked out.

It might be difficult to deduce the result from the beginning, but it would be much simpler to deduce the beginning from the result.

Why help the rebels who harmed him buy time?

Because Noah needed this live captive to show his hand at this time, about him actively losing his memory.

Why actively lose his memory?

Because only during his relatively young and vulnerable adolescent stage would Igris be forced to protect him, help him control everything from scratch, teach him balance, rules, and strategies step-by-step, and once again become that all-powerful Saint.

There is no existence more insightful into a teacher’s weaknesses than a student taught hand-in-hand.

They would be closer to each other’s hearts and closer to each other’s fatal necks. He had sent his most soft, most easily understood self into his consort’s arms, and in return, he wanted his consort to personally hand over the blade capable of killing him.

This was a domestic war concerning “dominance,” unrelated to any outsiders, limited only to them.

Control, or be controlled.

Mutual hunters, and also mutual prey.

Realizing this, the Councilor laughed softly. At first, it was a light chuckle, and then slowly, uncontrollably, he burst into loud laughter, causing his chest to vibrate slightly.

There was not a hint of anger in the sound, but rather an undisguised joy.

What is this? He thought carelessly.

The one being treated as prey, surprisingly, is me.

The numbers on the elevator flickered, rapidly approaching the special floor where the Saint was located. As the elevator moved, Igris had already understood everything.

It was like a spectacular puppet show.

If the silk threads held by the eighteen-year-old Noah Veroria connected Lucian Veroria and Silas Veroria;

Then, the thread that the twenty-eight-year-old Saint had lowered his head to fiddle with in the hospital room a week ago was like a spiderweb, entangling, tightening, and spreading all the way to Mr. Councilor.

He knew he would provoke him, betray him, and he also knew that he himself after the amnesia would not be able to suppress the urge for revenge.

This time, he could dispel the Councilor’s intentions with a single stroke.

But what about the next time? And the time after that?

The eighteen-year-old Saint perhaps had not thought this far, but the twenty-eight-year-old Noah Veroria, outside of that aircraft accident, had sat up from the hospital bed the very first moment and written the answer in the script in advance.

To induce him to abandon Bill No. 43, the eighteen-year-old Noah Veroria had bet on their lifelong alliance;

To induce him to abandon the entire forest, the twenty-eight-year-old Saint chose to place himself on the other side of the scales. His male master was asking him: What do you want to hunt? Is it this entire forest of the Federation? Is it to plunder more land while I am amnesiac? Or is it… me?

What an arrogant, selfish male he is.

How dare he take it for granted that he would definitely choose him?

“Ding.”

The elevator arrived.

The insect he wanted to see was right in front of him.

Even though it was a path he had walked countless times these past days, walking it again right now, Igris actually felt an indescribable sense of freshness. Indefinable emotions surged quietly in the bottom of his heart, like a soft white feather scratching lightly against his heart, making the insect unbearably anxious.

Along with it, the heart in his chest began to beat wildly without any warning.

The door was within reach.

The Councilor stopped, seriously adjusted his clothes, and patted away non-existent dust. Ensuring that he was still the handsome, flawless, and perfect consort, he carried a smile in his eyes, as if attending some grand banquet, and pushed the door open unhurriedly.

That is right; of course, he would choose him.

After all.

What foxes like most are rabbits, especially rabbits that dare to bare their fangs at them.

He raised his eyelids with great interest, chuckled, and looked over.

The wind blew through the floor-to-ceiling windows, lifting the light, long curtains. The sunlight spilled in along the windowsill, illuminating the room that had long been cleaned, was silent, and devoid of any insects.

…？

Realizing something.

Igris supported his forehead with one hand and laughed in anger.

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