Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Maybe it was Dexter's overly earnest expression that made Yor open his mouth and blurt out, "Then... could you lend me some money?"

Yor himself was caught off guard by his own question.

The old Ling Yue wasn't someone who could just ask others for money, and he didn't have friends close enough for that kind of request. Otherwise, he wouldn't have gone so far as to work as a male host to fund his studies.

But now... once the words were out, it didn't feel so hard after all.

It was as if a brick had been quietly removed from the dense, heavy wall in his heart without him noticing.

Unnoticeable, but the suffocating space now had a sliver of light.

Dexter, however, didn't think much of it. He quickly turned back, picked up Yor's terminal and tapped a few times: "My pay's already been transferred to your account. You can check it on this screen and use it however you like."

Yor looked down, and the number on the screen made his eye twitch.

"I also went to logistics and sorted out the paperwork. From now on, I'll have a set amount sent to you every month," Dexter said, a little embarrassed. "My current take-home pay isn't much since most of it gets held back until I'm discharged, when it's paid out along with the settlement allowance. But I'll try to earn some extra credits each month—don't worry about it."

Yor stared at the number, his mind spinning. It took him a moment to figure out how the War Department handled pay—a small portion paid monthly, with the rest held back and paid out together with the settlement allowance when you're discharged.

Thinking about how Taste blew through money without a care, he could understand why this pay system existed. You could call it well-intentioned.

"No, you don't need to transfer it to me. I just wanted to borrow some money for an emergency, and this... this is way too much money." Yor was starting to break a sweat.

"I should be supporting you." Dexter said it matter-of-factly, as calmly as if he were talking about the weather. He said it again, "Of course I should be supporting you."

Taste opened his mouth beside them, glancing at his own terminal a couple of times.

Even though the mechanical limb was covered by logistics, the extra upgrades he'd added were all out of pocket, and he had no idea when he'd ever pay those off.

Thinking about his debt, he felt a pang of guilt, but he still steeled himself and managed to squeeze out: "I can also sup... support."

Yor glanced at him.

Taste immediately puffed out his chest, but his confidence was clearly lacking, and his voice got quieter as he spoke: "When I get discharged, my settlement allowance will be a lot too..."

Like a husky that knew it had done something wrong.

Yor couldn't help reaching out and patting Taste's head. His hair was short and stiff, prickly against his palm.

Taste looked up and nuzzled against Yor's palm a few times, but then he remembered his account and deflated again.

Yor didn't argue with Dexter any further. Considering how the bug had lain on his side earlier, completely submissive, this creature would unhesitatingly give his life for the so-called Broodmother, let alone his money.

Arguing was pointless. He just needed to keep his own mental tally.

Besides, aside from buying suppressants, he had another idea that might cost money.

Either way, he needed to earn money ASAP.

Whether on Blue Star or in the insect race, it was the same.

"I'd like to request a meeting with the Lord," Yor suddenly looked up and said.

Taste was the first to react. "You want to treat bugs with damaged mental seas to make money?"

Yor nodded. As an outsider, his means of survival were pitifully scarce. His only advantage was the mental power he'd gained from the Broodmother experiment, so he had to make use of it.

"The bugs from the Purification Department are already gone. Even if I expose my weird mental power, your Lord shouldn't send me back there."

The War Department fought year-round, so there were plenty of bugs with damaged mental seas. The benefits of keeping this "doctor" Yor around in the War Department were obvious. Even if the Purification Department caught wind and wanted to buy him back as lab material, the War Department's Lord had no reason to send him away.

The War Department wasn't short on money, and the Lord wasn't stupid. A single meal or a lifetime of meals—Yor believed that the seemingly rational Lord could tell the difference.

Taste was half-convinced but still worried. "Mental sea repair has always been a huge problem—even the Purification Department hasn't found a good solution. Will it mess with your body?"

Dexter's brow was furrowed as well.

The relationship between the War Department and the Purification Department was a bit delicate.

Back when the ancient Broodmother was still around, the two tribes were brothers in hardship.

The War Department guarded the nest and hunted far and wide, and when prey was scarce, they served as feed.

The Purification Department could build nests and lure enemies, but in battle, they were pretty much useless—struggling to survive.

Now that the Broodmother was gone, the War Department had carved out territory, and the Purification Department had made its fortune through mechanical limbs and biotech. Yet their needs had become even more complementary—one had resources from conquest but tons of war casualties, the other was short on funds but could fix up war bugs.

The two tribes were inseparable.

That was why when Zane's Broodmother research bore fruit, the first place he went was the War Department.

And that was why Dexter was still worried.

He just wanted Yor to stay safe and sound, going nowhere and doing nothing.

That way, there would be no danger.

"I can support you." He crouched down, bringing his gaze level with Yor, who was curled up in the sleep pod, his tone as serious as if swearing a military oath. "And if not me, there's still Taste."

Taste nodded vigorously beside him, but halfway through, he remembered his debt and slowed down—though he still forced himself to finish the remaining nods.

Yor looked at the two brothers and fell silent for two seconds.

"You both have to go to the battlefield." He spoke slowly, but every word was crystal clear. "What if you die out there? What am I supposed to do?"

The two bugs' confident declarations came to an abrupt halt.

Dexter's mouth hung slightly open, as if something was stuck in his throat.

He wanted to say "I won't die," but even he didn't believe those words. Who could be certain on a battlefield?

Comrades who stood in formation together today might be nothing but a wisp of ash tomorrow.

Taste, however, came around faster than his brother.

His psychological defenses were already low to begin with, and with his recent streak of terrible luck—being split in half, having a hole in his mental sea—he quickly accepted Yor's reasoning.

"True," Taste scratched his head with a strange sense of resignation. "Relying on just us brothers is too risky. You still need to depend on yourself, find more male bugs to support you together."

He patted Yor's shoulder and sighed. "You've worked hard. We're just too useless."

Yor: "..."

Dexter stared with dead fish eyes. "Only you are useless."

Taste glared back defiantly.

Yor couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

Dexter was stunned for a moment. The Little Broodmother's smile spread from the corners of her mouth to his eyes, making his entire face light up.

"Anyway," Yor's smile faded as she turned serious, "I want to request an audience with the Lord. I'll help him treat his war bugs whose spiritual seas were damaged, and he'll pay me. A fair trade."

Dexter's brow furrowed. He still thought they needed to discuss this more—at the very least, they should figure out what to say, carefully weigh what could and couldn't be said. After all, this was the Lord.

But his terminal suddenly vibrated.

He glanced down, and his pupils contracted sharply.

"What's wrong?" Yor asked.

Before Dexter could answer, the cabin door slid open.

Leonius stood at the entrance.

He had brought no attendants, had only sent Dexter a message, and hadn't even knocked before forcefully showing up at the monitoring cabin's door.

The tall War Lord stood there like a massive shadow, looming over every bug in the cabin.

Taste was the fastest to react, almost reflexively stepping in front of Yor, body half-crouched, muscles tensed, like a young beast with its fur bristling.

Dexter hesitated for a second, but couldn't stop himself—he finally shifted half a step to the side, pulling Yor into his defensive range.

Don't come near.

Watching the two young bugs, whose wariness was written all over their faces, Leonius's gaze shifted, landing on Yor's face.

==========Author's Note:==========

A bit short, but enjoy for now—another chapter's coming later.