Top-Tier Arranged Marriage, but the Dom-Husband Has Amnesia - Chapter 6

A coincidence?

Or was it, in fact, the very same insect?

Noah shifted his gaze away from the other’s face, calmly closing his eyes for a moment.

The Zerg society is strictly hierarchical, and their emotions are indifferent.

Male Zerg are one thing; after all, their numbers are limited, and the resources they can contend for are similarly finite. Female Zerg are another matter entirely. The Federation has always been harsh in its upbringing of young females, a process of “breaking” far more grueling than training a hunting hawk. Even for those who survive it, there remain layers upon layers of superiors, commanders, and clan heads to face thereafter.

As the saying goes, where there is oppression, there is resistance.

The deeper the repression, the more ferocious the resistance.

Over the tens of thousands of years, brothers killing brothers, sons murdering fathers, and subordinates usurping superiors have become a sort of traditional skill for the females. After all, there are only so many high-ranking positions available. Any female with ambition, skill, and audacity would not feel comfortable climbing the ladder without slaughtering a few siblings or elder leaders.

So, the question now is:

How would such an ambitious, rebellious female with top-tier executive ability view his own male master?

Noah fell silent.

Unlike most male Zerg who were raised in honey pots and pampered by their kin, Noah’s father died when he was young. To avoid bringing shame to the “Veroria” surname, he had begun learning to handle various affairs from his tutors at a very early age. In terms of intellect, strategy, and political acumen, he was confident he would not lose to any insect of his own age.

However, that was on the condition that he had not lost his memory.

If not for the ten-year gap between them, Noah would have been confident enough to let his male consort know the price of provoking him.

As for now, he averted his gaze with difficulty, thinking timidly: Is it not a bit too much to expect an eighteen-year-old male, with severely insufficient intelligence and in an environment he is completely unfamiliar with, to deal with an adult female who leads the entire Zerg civilization in terms of intellect, power, and political maneuvering?

He had been silent for too long, and Igriss looked slightly surprised: “My Lord?”

Noah snapped back to reality.

By the time he reacted, his male consort had already walked to his side.

Seemingly thinking he was feeling unwell, Igriss leaned over, supporting himself with one hand by Noah’s side. He leaned forward slightly, testing the temperature of Noah’s forehead. He was so close that the distance between them became effectively zero; as he stooped, his body cast a large shadow that almost completely enveloped Noah.

He looked strong enough to take out ten of him with a single punch.

“…”

Right, what was it that his consort just said?

Good morning?

The young Saint leaned back slightly, cautiously inching half a step away to create distance from the female, and replied calmly: “Yes, yes, good morning to you too.”

Igriss: “…?”

His evasive posture was too obvious. Igriss watched him quietly for a moment but said nothing.

Instead, following the male’s lead, he said: “Elder Mr. Veroria came by last night. Seeing that you were asleep, he did not wake you. I discussed it with him; he will take the day shift, and I will take the night shift. We will let the medical team monitor you for another week to ensure everything is fine before you are discharged.”

It took Noah a few slow seconds to realize that “Elder Mr. Veroria” referred to his own father, who had taken his husband’s surname.

The Zerg have no tradition of changing surnames upon marriage.

Typically, after a male and female marry, their sons take the father’s surname, and their daughters take the mother’s. Only in cases where the families’ statuses are unequal—for instance, one being a commoner or minor noble and the other a high noble—would either the female or male take the surname of the more powerful party.

It is essentially a form of “marrying into” the family; becoming a member of the spouse’s clan.

Hearing that it was his father coming for the day shift, the male’s eyes brightened noticeably.

“You really do not want to spend time with me that much?” the Councilor asked. “Still angry at me?”

It would have been fine if he had not said anything.

But the moment he did, Noah remembered what had happened before he fell asleep last night. Long before the other had pushed the door open, Noah had already replayed it in his mind several times. The more he thought about it, the more that floating sensation, as if soaking in a hot spring, felt exactly like the “mental bonding” described in his physiology lessons.

Mental bonding.

Bonding.

His earlobes turned slightly hot, though his face remained expressionless. With a slight frown, he reached out, placed his hand on the other’s shoulder, and pushed with effort.

He did not budge.

The Councilor raised an eyebrow, thought for a moment, and obediently took two steps back.

Ensuring that the distance between them had returned to the safe social range expected of strangers, Noah sat upright.

With his arms folded, his tone was indifferent yet serious. He stated with polite detachment: “Although we have already established a marital relationship legally, I only have memories from before I was eighteen. Until those relevant memories are restored, perhaps it would be more appropriate for us to maintain a proper distance. What do you think?”

Igriss asked humbly: “What do you mean by that?”

He looked innocent and tried to provide examples: “For instance, not leaning into each other’s arms at will, not clinging tightly to the other while sleeping, not complaining that the other is not holding you tight enough, or refusing to sleep obediently without a bedtime story…?”

Noah, who had intentionally or unintentionally done all of the above to test the other, felt a twinge in his knees.

“So only you are allowed to touch me, but I am not allowed to touch you?” the Councilor looked at him with a smile, remarking in a teasing tone: “So bossy, my Lord?”

“…”

The eighteen-year-old Saint clearly had not yet honed a cold, hard heart in the political arena, and his remaining conscience pained him slightly. But quickly, his excellent memory and instinctive wariness brought him to his senses, and he immediately perceived the flaw in the other’s words.

No.

What did he mean by “only you are allowed to touch me, but I am not allowed to touch you”? Did the other person not promise with absolute certainty that he would “reflect deeply on all undignified behavior toward Lord Noah, and solemnly promise not to repeat it without permission”? How did it become his double standard?

Realizing the trap in the other’s words, Noah’s eyes instantly sharpened. He glanced sideways, looked up, and gave the female a deadpan glare.

His bad intentions exposed on the spot, the Councilor had to raise his hands in surrender: “Fine, you win.” His voice carried a faint, barely audible smile, sounding somewhat regretful.

After breakfast, the elder Mr. Veroria arrived as promised.

Noah’s body was fine. If one had to be picky, the frailty caused by long-term overwork, irregular schedules, and a lack of exercise was the more serious issue. Only after Noah repeatedly promised that he would obediently rest and accept being “taken care of,” did his father let him off the hook.

The topic naturally shifted to the perpetrator.

“Judging by the clues gathered from the investigation, the ones who attacked you are the same group that kidnapped you a few years ago; they are remnants of the rebel army,” Igriss said. “The insects involved in the operation have already been dealt with. The new leader has fled to an outer star system; it may take some time to track them down.”

Noah did not take this to heart.

He knew that this surviving remnant of the rebel army would likely be very difficult to catch.

Back in the imperial era, tracking down a few insects in the vast universe might have been slightly troublesome, but given the Zerg’s intelligence network and military armaments, it would not have been a difficult task.

Times, however, are different now.

Two thousand years ago, 190 low-level civilizations, 57 mid-level civilizations, and 13 high-level civilizations had signed the Charter of the Star Sea Community. With the three hegemonic-level civilizations—the Zerg civilization, the Star Spirit civilization, and the Mechanical Intelligence civilization—subsequently submitting their instruments of ratification, the charter officially came into effect.

The Star Sea Peace Alliance was formally established.

The once “cosmic-level disaster,” the Zerg, had transformed into a hegemonic-level civilization and become one of the permanent member civilizations of the Star Sea Peace Alliance’s Security Council.

Doesn’t that sound rather impressive?

In reality, the so-called Star Sea Peace Alliance is merely a toy for a few hegemonic-level civilizations. Even if ants gather together, they cannot crush an elephant. To the Zerg, those two hundred-odd miscellaneous civilizations are not to be feared; the real trouble lies in the other two top-tier civilizations that are also permanent members.

No sovereign, top-tier civilization will allow another top-tier civilization to exercise law enforcement within its territory.

Theoretically, they could communicate with other civilizations and request assistance in capturing targets, but the problem is that for wanted criminals from another civilization, the host civilization will not invest much in searching for them. Even if they happen to run into them and catch them, they will then decide whether to extradite them based on the circumstances…

In short, the red tape is incredibly tedious and troublesome.

It would not be impossible to catch them if one were truly determined, but it is unnecessary.

Ultimately, this rebel remnant is merely a pawn, perhaps even a discarded one. The real culprit must be someone from the Federation’s high command who could directly benefit from the attack on him. Once the roots beneath the soil are cut off, the lush branches above will naturally wither and die.

Instead of dealing with the small fry, it is better to deal with the true mastermind who is shielding them.

Noah asked: “Does the outside world know about my current situation?”

Detecting the implication behind his words, the Councilor raised an eyebrow and asked bluntly: “What do you intend to do?”

“There must be many insects already probing for news of my condition,” Noah mused. “We can filter out a few suitable candidates from the visitation list. Since I have nearly recovered, it is time for me to meet with guests.”

“It will be the perfect chance for them to see what this accident took away, and what it left behind.”

This meant he had no intention of hiding his amnesia.

His father, Isidore Veroria, watched him for a while, as if gauging whether his son was currently capable of independently facing certain storms. A moment later, he nodded slowly: “Very well.”

Igriss, of course, would not contradict his decision and gave a slight nod: “As you wish.”

After that, they discussed some further details.

How to select the visitation list, how to set traps, how to use the opportunity of his amnesia to sweep up certain insects with ulterior motives, and incidentally, how to appropriately warn and intimidate the fence-sitters lurking within certain groups…

Once the official business was done, the conversation naturally returned to private matters.

Watching the two females standing there, calmly and naturally discussing the task of “how to care for the amnesiac male master/son” as if it were a formal work handover, Noah felt a subtle sensation. Faintly, he felt a genuine sense of being a married Zerg.

The handover concluded.

The Councilor greeted him politely and turned to leave.

According to their arrangement, his father would look after him during the day, and the nights would be the domain of this stranger who was also his male consort.

For the next few days, Noah rarely ran into Igriss.

Everything was as if they had returned to the years when they were still playmates; perhaps due to a busy schedule, the young Councilor only finished his work after Noah had fallen asleep, hurrying over to take the night shift. By the time Noah woke up the next day, the other had already departed silently.

This made Noah feel a quiet sense of relief.

He truly did not know how to get along with this consort of his at the moment.

The image he had initially projected in front of the other was not entirely false. Influenced by pheromones and the slight discomfort of being in an unfamiliar environment, he instinctively wanted to get closer to his consort. However, his inherent sharpness and acquired rationality screamed at him to be vigilant and stay away.

What he found most subtle was that he faintly realized the other was doing this on purpose.

It was as if the other had sensed his intention to avoid and distance himself, and so he cooperated, stepping back quietly to reconstruct the boundaries and measure expected of a married couple.

This retreat did not contain a single hint of sulking.

Every time the young Councilor came over, he would bring small, carefully prepared gifts suitable for passing the time. If Noah was awake, he would sit on the side, patiently and naturally chatting with him. If he missed a shift due to work, he would send a message beforehand to explain, communicating the time, location, reasons for the delay, and would even report exactly which insects he had met.

He acted like a standard male consort in a normal, happy marriage.

If Noah needed something, he provided it. If Noah was resistant, he retreated to a safe distance, waiting for his next instruction.

Accommodating, meticulous… Impeccable.

Another morning.

At dawn, with the sky a grayish light, the Councilor, who had sat quietly outside the door keeping watch all night, whispered a few words to the head of the Veroria family before rising to leave without a sound.

Inside the room, separated by a single door.

The Saint lowered his eyes, his long, dense eyelashes trembling slightly, casting a shadow.

A bit troublesome, he thought.

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