Top-Tier Arranged Marriage, but the Dom-Husband Has Amnesia - Chapter 3

“He isn’t that much of a sore loser.”

The world seemed to fall into a slow-motion long take.

Until many years later, Igris could still clearly recall this mesmerizing night.

The youth’s cold voice was lazy, unhurried, and as casual as if he were discussing the weather. Yet, as it reached his ears, it seemed to add a layer of crisp mist to the scene, highlighting the cold and beautiful lines of the male insect’s jaw. When he looked over nonchalantly, he resembled some kind of cold, sharp metal weapon.

Expensive, lethal, yet truly beautiful.

His gaze lingered for a few seconds on the male insect’s cold and exquisitely beautiful face, and he smiled with an ambiguous intent.

“Sure.”

“How would you like to play?”

Just like fate.

From then on, the two great privileged families at the pinnacle of the Federation’s power structure, Veroria and Orwell, announced their marriage. Accompanied by a century-defining wedding known throughout the star sea, the Federation’s only S-rank Saint and the world’s only 3S-rank female insect walked together as a matter of course.

Because both husband and wife had such brutal styles of conduct and shared a preference for dealing with the outside world together, they were secretly given a nickname by the elite privileged class: The Vicious Power Couple.

Of course, these complex, dirty details between adult insects need not be specifically explained to the male insect at this moment.

Facing the male insect’s curious, baby-like gaze, Igris pondered for a moment and decided to vividly narrate a story he made up on the spot: “Back then, you were attacked and kidnapped by the rebels. I happened to be on duty in the Tianhuan Star System, received orders from above, and was commanded to go save you along with the Third Legion stationed there.”

The male insect hesitated slightly, unsure: “Did you save me?”

Igris paused subtly.

In fact, when he arrived at the scene, ninety-nine percent of the rebels on the entire starship had already been knocked unconscious by the Saint’s mental suppression. The only two who were unaffected, the leader and deputy leader of the rebel forces, had been manipulated by him to the point of nearly bashing each other’s brains out.

In other words, even if he hadn’t arrived in time, the Saint, whom the Federation held as a precious treasure, wouldn’t have lost even half a hair.

Therefore, Igris replied calmly, without changing his expression: “That is correct.”

After all, the rebels’ starship had been largely totaled in the battle, and the emergency small craft had been completely destroyed. Without the starship he had brought, even as wise and martial as the Saint, he would have had no way to fly back to the Federation alone without any transportation.

Rounding it up, it could count as a life-saving grace.

The male insect rubbed his ear, tilted his head, and fell into deep thought, seemingly imagining the thrilling rescue story that took place on a starship in the Tianhuan Star System.

A moment later, he commented: “That’s quite romantic.”

Igris chuckled: “I think so too.”

There was none of the insipid boredom of aristocratic banquets, nor the rigid formality of Sanctuary dating applications. Amidst the shrill alarms, screams, and the roar of artillery fire, the two young political animals looked at each other and forged a lifelong covenant.

How could that not be considered romantic?

Seeming to believe that they had reached a consensus on a key issue, the male insect nodded happily and didn’t bother to ask about other things. He yawned a little while nestled in the female insect’s arms and announced: “I’m sleepy.” After he finished speaking, he kept staring at the other party silently with those beautiful eyes.

Igris: “.”

Fine.

He released his grip smoothly and placed the male insect back onto the bed unharmed.

Without waiting for further instructions or urging from the male insect, Mr. Councillor took off his coat in a sensible manner, climbed into bed with the awareness of a tool-insect, consciously pulled the male insect back into his arms, tucked him in, and hugged him tightly with practiced ease.

The male insect was satisfied.

Feeling the scent of his own female consort, the one who had marked this body, the male insect, who was in a strange environment, finally shed some of his anxiety. He curled up in the female insect’s arms and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Igris did not move.

He waited patiently for an hour until his husband was sound asleep and the tail-hook resting on his wrist slipped down naturally as the master lost his strength. Only then did Igris carefully release the male insect, help him adjust to a comfortable sleeping position, re-cover him with the quilt, and get up to leave.

The door opened silently and closed just as quietly.

A translucent screen unfolded before his eyes. As Igris quickly browsed an electronic file and completed the approval, he pushed open the door to the adjoining room next to the ward and walked straight in.

The room was fully equipped.

A simple chandelier, a luxurious long-pile carpet, and a cherry-wood desk near the window even held a natural incense burner, emitting a light, lingering fragrance. It was less of a spare room for night shifts and rest, and more of a temporary office specifically prepared by the hospital for the noble Councillor.

Within the walls, an embedded anti-eavesdropping silent device was running quietly.

This ensured the privacy of both the ward and the suite, while also ensuring that if the Saint in the ward had any needs, the Councillor in this room would be the first to know.

After simply approving a few files, Igris paused, pondered for a moment, and raised his hand to initiate a communication.

The smart brain flashed for a moment, projecting the figure of a female insect. The Secretary-General bowed slightly, greeting politely: “Good evening, Mr. Councillor.”

Igris nodded slightly and said directly: “The previously shelved motions can continue to be pushed forward.”

The Secretary-General’s heart skipped a beat.

Unlike the joke-like proposal made by the Saint and the Councillor this morning, these so-called shelved motions were, without exception, policy proposals that had been gathering dust for a long time because they had failed to receive enough support in the council votes, leading to the relevant committees not convening special meetings to review their contents.

And considering the Councillor’s status as the near-absolute power in the Federation, this so-called shelved motion could be described in a simpler and clearer way: that is, proposals personally vetoed by the ruler of the Upper House, Saint Noah Veroria.

The Secretary-General hesitated to speak.

Normally, as a deputy, he only needed to strictly follow the Councillor’s instructions, but this piece of official business was truly a dilemma for the Chief of Staff.

That’s right.

Long before the Councillor and the Saint entered into marriage, the two sides signed a prenuptial agreement. The agreement clearly stated that for all major public decisions where the two sides disagreed, as long as it did not endanger their personal safety or damage their core political capital, both sides could take any legal or illegal measures.

But…

As a female insect, as a female consort, is it not a bit too much to be the first to strike when one’s political ally and husband suffers a sudden accident?

Shouldn’t one at least wait for some fool who isn’t afraid of death to stick their neck out first?

What if the Saint really becomes unhappy about this, leading to a falling out and affecting their cooperative relationship?

There was no response.

There were still piles of files waiting to be processed. Igris took a moment to look up, surprised: “Is there a problem?”

The Secretary-General kept his expression unchanged and reminded him subtly: “Why don’t you try putting yourself in his shoes before making a decision?”

This made sense, and Igris was not a dictatorial insect. He frowned and thought about the question seriously: If he were the one who had lost his memory, how would his husband react? What kind of countermeasures would he take?

Igris thought about it.

So he emphasized: “Be quick.” If his husband reacted and made a move, it would be too late.

The Secretary-General: “…”

The Secretary-General was silent.

He looked to the side, silent, staring at his direct superior with a look like he was watching scum. The insect being stared at lazily raised his eyelids and met his gaze. Seeming to realize the Chief of Staff’s underlying meaning, the Councillor’s expression was more akin to confusion; he asked rhetorically: “Is there a problem?”

Concession has always been for the strong to show toward the weak.

Because he occupies a high position, and because he was born powerful, he lowers his head to carefully cherish and protect the fragile male insect.

On the surface, it is a transfer of power from the stronger party to the weaker, but its essence is the use of conditional, harmless giving to reinforce the existing hierarchical order through the passive acceptance of the weaker party, while simultaneously showcasing one’s own tolerance, elegance, and demeanor.

But that is for a superior dealing with an inferior.

Noah Veroria is not a weak party that needs protection.

That is a true top predator, existing at the very top of the food chain in this Zerg civilization.

Underestimating the opponent will get you killed.

Displaying his demeanor as a superior in front of his husband? For real?

Does he even deserve it?

Seeming to associate it with something absurd, Mr. Councillor paused briefly and subtly. He then waved his hand, making a gesture to stop, indicating that the topic should end there.

“Go.”

Igris said nonchalantly: “He isn’t that much of a sore loser.”

…

At the same time, inside the ward.

Almost the moment Igris stepped out of the room, on the hospital bed, Noah Veroria opened his eyes calmly.

Cold, vigilant, without a ripple.

He waited quietly for a while, confirming that the female insect had completely left, the surroundings were completely quiet, and there was nothing unusual in his mental perception. Only then did he sit up, lean against the headboard, and silently fished out a note from the space ring he carried. With a flick of his finger, he opened it.

It read:

“When you open this note, you should have lost your memory.

Do not be anxious, and do not be uneasy. You can follow your own character, thoughts, and preferences to do whatever you want, naturally and as you please.

But please, no matter what, keep the following three points in mind: