Top-Tier Arranged Marriage, but the Dom-Husband Has Amnesia - Chapter 9

Until he fell asleep, Noah spent his time pondering ways to deal with his own male consort.

Perhaps it was a case of thinking about something by day and dreaming about it at night, or perhaps he had simply spent too much time mentally berating his consort during the day. That night, the Saint, who had enjoyed peaceful sleep ever since he first woke up, had a nightmare for the first time in a long while.

In the dream, he had exhausted himself gathering intelligence, finally piecing together the truth behind his amnesia. It turned out that the twenty-eight-year-old Noah Veroria could no longer tolerate that scoundrel Igriss Orwell and had wanted to replace his consort. However, since the two had collaborated for years, it was difficult to simply turn hostile or back out, so he had sent the young Noah, who held no affection for the consort, to do the dirty work.

Noah: …?

Oh, is that so?

Then there was no help for it.

Although he did not understand why the adult Noah could not bring himself to say something as simple as divorce and had to make him do it in person, the past him was, after all, still him. In the end, whether it was the older Noah or the younger Noah, they were essentially the same insect.

Since things had come to this, he might as well indulge himself.

Thus, the eighteen-year-old Saint blinked and said happily: “Igriss, let us get a divorce!”

Igriss: “…?”

The Councilor lazily opened his eyelids, chuckled, and said casually: “Baby, have you not always been curious about why we got married? It is like this: you were actually a gift sent by the Three Great Families to be a political marriage partner for me. You are my male master in life, and you will remain my male master in death.”

After saying this, he leaned over, grasped Noah’s chin with one hand, and took a bite without reservation.

He was like a predator bowing its head to lick its prey, using its teeth to meticulously measure and ponder where to sink its fangs. He was relaxed and lazy, with his interest fully ignited, intimate yet dangerous.

“I advise you to give up this idea as soon as possible and stay home honestly to give birth to little insect cubs for me.”

Noah: !!

Then he woke up.

Woke up in a fright.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting thin, golden threads of light.

The blanket, which had been relatively flat, bulged slightly. The male buried beneath it subconsciously rubbed his cheek against the sheets, squirming like some small animal, before finally poking a shell-shocked head out.

…Absurd.

How could he have such a strange dream?

The male shook his head as if trying to shake all the weird waste out of his brain.

Come to think of it, such a bizarre dream did not seem entirely baseless. After all, the high-ranking excellencies of the Holy Land really enjoyed scaring young males with phrases like “If you do not study hard, you will become a toy for females” or “You would not want to be played in the palms of a female, would you?”

Even the young Noah had not been able to escape this fate.

…He did not quite understand these boring high-ranking males.

Noah rubbed his brow in silence, threw off the blanket, and got out of bed.

He stepped barefoot onto the carpet. As he walked forward, his robe slid off his shoulder. Just as it was about to hit the floor, it was snagged by a tail that had quietly snaked out from behind. With a slight flick, it was tossed back onto the bed. The male yawned, walked toward the dressing room, picked out a simple base layer and a coat to wear, and used his fingers as a comb to roughly style his hair.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, those clear, golden eyes had returned to their usual calm detachment.

Boot-up sequence complete.

The young Saint leaned against the wall with his head slightly bowed, one hand shoved into his coat pocket, continuing to think along the lines of the previous night.

Two days left until he was discharged.

However, there was only one day left until the next routine Federal meeting.

In his current state, even if he were to be discharged urgently to have heart-to-heart talks with the fence-sitters who had leaned toward the Councilor, it would be difficult to reverse the one-sided situation by the time he confronted Igriss Orwell at the meeting. The shrewd and calculating high-ranking privileged class would not simply change their stance because of a single word from him.

Then, there was only one option: let his consort voluntarily back down on his own.

A large cloud drifted by outside the window, blocking half the sunlight.

As if sensing something, Noah looked down. A deep blue butterfly had flown in from somewhere. Its antennae were slightly raised, and it was half-folding its translucent, phosphorescent, magnificent wings, quietly landing on his fingertip.

He lowered his head, staring at the butterfly in his palm.

A few seconds later, the butterfly suddenly spread its wings and flew toward the courtyard outside the window without any warning.

Noah’s heart stirred.

Was there any way, like the butterfly effect, or a line of meticulously arranged dominoes, that would allow him to lightly tip over the first tile without leaving the hospital, letting that little butterfly fly silently to his consort’s side?

While he was deep in thought, a hand suddenly pressed gently on his hair and rubbed it without any restraint. Noah’s brows furrowed, and just as he was about to dodge, he heard a huff from above, followed by a sour voice: “That fellow has been gone for half a day already; how long do you intend to keep watching him?”

Noah: “.”

He frowned, took a half-step back, leaned against the railing, and put on a cold face: “Lucian, are you bored?”

The young Saint kept a straight face, looked up, and glared at him. A few tufts of messy white hair were tucked into his coat collar, making it look as if he were wearing a light, fluffy white shawl.

Lucian Veroria felt an itch in his heart, reached out, and rubbed his hair vigorously until Noah lifted a flowerpot from the side, looking ready to hit him. Only then did Lucian retract his hand, not forgetting to take advantage of the situation: “Noah, you might not remember since you lost your memory, but you used to call me Little Uncle.”

Noah simply could not be bothered to respond.

A title he had not even called him at eighteen, only to call him that at twenty-eight? Who would believe that?

The deception failed miserably, but Lucian’s expression did not even change.

Instead of improving himself, it was better to slander others. Lucian remained calm and collected, spreading rumors on the spot: “Do not look at him; let me tell you, do not look at how Igriss looks all proper and dignified. In reality, he…”

Noah’s eyelashes flickered, and he looked up at him: “Did you two know each other before?”

…?

Lucian’s face fell, his expression deeply wounded: “Baby, is that the point?”

Then what was?

Considering the other was his biological uncle, Noah felt he had to give him some face, so he replied perfunctorily: “Fine, let us change the subject. What is Igriss Orwell’s image in the privileged circle? Do you know him well? Does he have any obvious hobbies or weaknesses?”

So where exactly was the subtlety in that question?

The Veroria female, who had been completely ignored, was deeply hurt. However, seeing Noah’s serious expression, Lucian stopped messing around. He looked at Noah, raised an eyebrow, and mused: “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

?

How could there be two options for this?

Noah asked tentatively: “What is the lie?”

Lucian replied solemnly: “The lie is that Igriss Orwell is a total dog.”

Noah: “.”

For some reason, he suddenly had an indescribable premonition.

He maintained his silence, looking at the female opposite him with a complicated expression. The latter had absolutely no self-awareness of being disliked or disdained. Seeing that Noah did not speak, Lucian lost his composure and grew anxious: “Why are you not asking me what the truth is?”

Since things had reached this point, if Noah still could not react to the fact that the other was intentionally trying to amuse him, he would be a bit too slow-witted.

He sighed almost imperceptibly: “So, what is the truth?”

“The truth is,” Lucian said righteously and forcefully, “Igriss Orwell is truly a total dog!”

Noah: “…”

Fine.

Although what the other said was nonsense, and the evaluation of the Councilor could be said to be entirely subjective and not objective at all, considering that all older females in this world would have a bit of that old father-like displeasure when facing the outsider who kidnapped their male, the fact that Lucian could express his frustration with Igriss in such a joking way indirectly proved their friendship.

In other words, Igriss, whether as a Councilor or as his male consort, was irreproachable to Lucian Veroria.

That was no low praise.

Noah was thoughtful.

Lucian, however, frowned slightly, belatedly sensing a clue from his questions.

He turned his head to look at him, his tone seemingly casual: “What is it? Did he bully you?”

“No.”

Lucian did not believe him and observed his expression: “Really?”

“Really.” Noah replied calmly, though his words were heartless: “Besides, you could not beat him anyway.”

Lucian: “…” That was heartbreaking.

The Little Uncle was full of resentment.

Noah turned his head away as if nothing had happened, pretending not to see.

He did not mention the proposal, and Lucian did not think in that direction either.

The two were in a political marriage to begin with, and the relevant agreements had been laid out clearly before the wedding. If he really used this matter to ask his kin for backup, the only one who would be embarrassed would be the Veroria family; after all, Igriss had not violated their agreement. One could not just drag the Councilor out and beat him up just because of a small, underlying feeling of dissatisfaction.

If outsiders heard about it, they would only think it was absurd.

Politics is the art of compromise. Not only would both families never fall out over something like this, but even if his father and uncle did not mind, other voices would emerge within the family.

He did not want to make things difficult for his father and uncle, nor could he do something so undignified.

Most importantly…

The Saint looked away, feeling a bit guilty as he thought: Although I feel bad for Little Uncle for saying this, I must say, from the perspective of his and Igriss’s little family, even if Lucian Veroria is his uncle, he is essentially an outsider.

Since when does a male master join forces with an outsider to deal with his own consort?

The saying goes, “Face the outside world together when the door is open, and settle things by individual ability when the door is closed.” Unless Igriss Orwell breaks the terms first, Noah would not take the initiative to do something that violates the agreement.

Wait.

Face the… outside?

Lightning struck the target through the clouds.

Noah’s eyebrows arched, and he rose abruptly.

He seemed to have caught that butterfly.

…

At the same time, Capital Star, Sector West A-6.

In the golden-glittering hall of a villa complex near the mountain forest, a few high-ranking insects were chatting.

“Lucian Veroria has gone over.”

One of the insects glanced at the message he had just received on his light-brain and raised an eyebrow: “Was it not said that the Saint was very difficult to deal with? Can he fall for such a simple divide-and-conquer tactic?”

“He is a young insect, after all; he lacks patience.”

Another female with a spider tattoo on his shoulder leaned back on the sofa, his tone casual: “Besides, we are using an overt strategy. Regardless, it is a fact that Orwell took advantage of the Saint’s amnesia to push through Bill No. 43. No matter whether the Excellency can keep his cool, the rift has already been created. The only difference is when it will be detonated and by whom.”

“Just wait and see; the good show is about to begin.”

He chuckled: “It is not often you see the Federal first couple tearing each other apart internally.”

…

Meanwhile.

Congressional District, outside the Central Chamber.

Igriss stopped, looking slightly surprised: “Lucian Veroria wants to see me? Now?”

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