Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The new office was spacious and bright.

A floor-to-ceiling window spanned the entire wall, the vast universe spread out before him—nebulae drifting, star rivers flowing, suns blazing into dazzling points of light across the vastness.

The first time Yor walked in, he stood at the window for a long time.

Beside the window was a control panel with one-touch controls. The whole transparent window instantly switched to a simulated dirt-burrow wall, the lights shifting from warm white to dark brown, the ventilation slightly lowering the temperature, and damp, earthy-smelling air seeping out of the vents.

Insectoid nest mode.

It was a super popular environment preset among the insectoids. Yor wasn't a fan of that cellar vibe, but he had to admit the environment was indeed very friendly to insectoids.

Even Dexter, a high-ranking insectoid, breathed easier the moment he stepped in.

For his patients' sake, he could get used to it.

After all, he'd thrown harsh words at Leonius at noon—he would definitely take good care of the war bugs.

Yor meant what he said.

In a single afternoon, he treated three war bugs back-to-back.

The first went relatively smoothly. The mental-sea blockage was similar to Shuji's, so taking it apart came naturally.

The second one started to push him. That male's mental sea wasn't just blocked—it was badly damaged. After the "demolition," there was finer stitching and repair work left to do.

By the third one, Yor could hear his own heartbeat. His body was telling him he'd hit his limit.

But since he'd started, Yor didn't want to quit halfway through. Besides, if you never push yourself, how do you know where your ceiling is?

The inexplicably competitive Blue Star human somehow pushed through.

Only when the last blockage dissolved into flowing sand under his mental power, got filtered clean, and merged into the mental sea's currents did Yor finally pull his hand back.

His brow was twitching.

Like holding a needle for three hours, each stitch finer, steadier, and more precise than the one before.

His mental power was still fine, but his body couldn't keep up—wrists aching, shoulders and neck stiff, hair plastered to his skin, sticky and itchy with sweat.

Yor rubbed his temples and leaned back in the chair, trying to recover.

Dexter was working the late shift these days. He didn't trust these young male bugs one bit, so instead of heading back to rest, he'd stayed by Yor's side all afternoon.

He brought over warm water, frowning hard. "That's too much."

"It's fine." Yor took the cup and took a sip. "Just a little tired."

He wasn't being honest.

It wasn't just exhaustion—his pheromones were starting to go out of balance again. That restless heat was seeping out of his bones, making it impossible to sit still.

Dexter had to go on duty. Yor didn't want to worry him, so he acted like everything was fine and they parted.

Back in the monitoring bay, the first thing he did was pull out the tester Leonius had given him.

Prick his fingertip, drop the blood into the reagent slot, wait.

The machine beeped softly, and a number popped up on the screen.

Yor glanced at it, and his eyelid twitched. Way higher than at noon—in just one afternoon, the pheromone imbalance had gotten a lot worse.

He took a soothing agent from the box and injected the dose as instructed.

The moment the liquid hit his veins, a chill spread from his wrist to his chest, pushing down some of that restless heat. But it still wasn't comfortable—like something was thrashing around inside him, unable to find a way out.

Yor didn't even eat. He lay down in the sleep pod and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

The medicine kicked in fast. He was asleep almost the second his eyes closed.

Leonius looked at the sleep pod alarm data on his terminal, frowning slightly.

Elevated body temp, unstable heart rate, abnormal pheromone fluctuations—these readings synced in real time from the monitoring bay's life support system to his terminal.

He stared for a while, tempted to message Yor and tell him not to push himself so hard.

But after thinking it over, he lowered his hand.

That was a grown adult bug. He shouldn't micromanage him and risk being annoying. He trusted that after tonight's discomfort, Yor would find his own rhythm.

Still, he opened the internal comms and told the logistics team to prepare some easy-to-digest food, ready to be delivered whenever Yor woke up.

Leonius watched the monitor for a bit, then changed the order: Have it ready and set aside. I'll come get it.

Listening to Yor's heavy breathing through the monitor, Leonius sped up his paperwork. If he wasn't too busy, bringing it himself would be perfectly reasonable.

This was a valuable military doctor.

He should be well taken care of.

But that food never got used. In the middle of the night, the sleep pod's alarm suddenly escalated.

A persistent high fever.

Barely a few breaths after the alarm went off, Leonius was already at the monitoring bay's door. The door slid open for the ship's master, and he saw Yor curled up in a tight ball in the sleep pod.

His cheeks were flushed an unnatural red—clearly burning up—but he was shivering.

His teeth chattered with faint clicks, and his hair hung limp across his pale forehead.

Leonius reached out and touched Yor's forehead.

Burning up.

Without hesitation, he turned, grabbed the box of experimental-grade soothing agents from the cold storage, pulled one out, and injected it.

Yor frowned in his sleep, his hand waving weakly, and Leonius gently pressed it down.

The injection was done, but his fever was still climbing. Yor trembled harder, curling into a tiny ball—like a baby bird with nowhere to hide from a storm.

Leonius stood there for a moment.

Then he reached out, lifted Yor out of the sleep pod, and wrapped him—blanket and all—in his arms.

The moment Yor's cheek touched his burning chest, Yor's body stiffened, then curled closer, instinctively burrowing toward the warmth.

He wasn't completely unconscious.

The fever made his whole body ache, his mind in a feverish uproar, but his thoughts remained clear.

He lifted a hand with effort, pushing against Leonius's hard chest, his voice hoarse: "Don't go to all this trouble... once the medicine kicks in, I'll be fine by dawn."

Leonius didn't let go.

"When you're cold, you should hold each other close."

Yor: "..."

Do you think I'm stupid? When you're cold, you should turn up the temperature in the sleep pod.

But he didn't have the strength to say it out loud. The medicine was taking effect, his body swinging between scorching hot and freezing cold, and Leonius's body temperature was just right. This remarkable bug's temperature could shift at will, like a flexible barrier, sometimes blocking out the chill, sometimes warm as a hearth.

Strangely, the sleep pod's climate control could regulate temperature just as well, but... it just wasn't the same as being held by someone alive.

Maybe it was the rhythm of a heartbeat, maybe the rhythm of breathing, maybe the total sense of security from being completely wrapped up, or maybe just... having someone there when you're lonely.

Yor hesitated for two seconds, then gave in.

He pressed his face into Leonius's chest and closed his eyes.

Leonius looked down.

Yor's breathing gradually evened out, his furrowed brow relaxing, his curled-up body slowly relaxing. His hand unconsciously gripped Leonius's collar, like grabbing onto a piece of driftwood.

Leonius slowed his breathing and cleared his mind.

Then, he did something he didn't even realize—his tail slipped out from his waist, slender, its tip covered in soft scales, gently tapping Yor's back.

One pat. Two pats. Three pats.

Rhythmic and slow, like some instinctive soothing behavior hardwired into his genes.

He didn't have to think about it—his body just knew what to do.

Yor's breathing grew deeper, his entire body going completely limp in Leonius's arms, like a cat that completely trusts its owner.

Leonius watched his sleeping face, a strange, unprecedented feeling rising in his chest.

Not the thrill of winning a battle, not the relief of closing a deal, not the satisfaction of seeing the War Department getting stronger and stronger.

Hard to put into words—maybe... contentment.

He wanted to stay like this, wanted him to be comfortable, wanted him to not hurt, wanted him to sleep well.

Leonius didn't think about it any more. He leaned against the cabin wall, continuing to rub Yor's back gently.

The night was long. He had no reason to rush.

But the next second, the monitoring cabin door suddenly slid open.

Dexter stood at the entrance, still cold from his shift, his military uniform crisp, but the anxiety in his eyes about to spill over.

The moment he saw Yor held in Leonius's arms, his footsteps hesitated.

They locked eyes.

Leonius should have heard Dexter's approach long before—his perception spanned the entire starship, and he could detect any bug approaching well in advance.

But just now... his mind had apparently wandered off somewhere, and he only came back to his senses when the door opened.

Dexter's dependent bug was being held in his arms.

Leonius cleared his throat, his brow furrowing as he struck first: "Why didn't you report to me directly and come sooner to take care of Yor?"

The flicker of suspicion that had just risen in Dexter was immediately quashed by those words.

Right! The lord must have come because of the alarm—after all, Yor was now a key military doctor for the War Department.

His suspicion was instantly replaced by concern. He hurried forward a few steps, reaching out to take Yor from him.

Leonius automatically stepped back.

Dexter's hand froze mid-air, shooting him a strange look.

"Your body is cold," Leonius said with a straight face.

It suddenly clicked for Dexter.

He had just come in from outside—his uniform was indeed cold. Bugs could regulate their body temperature quickly, but the chill in the fabric itself wouldn't warm up right away. He quickly turned aside, warming himself up, then reached out again to take Yor from Leonius's arms.

During the handover, Yor seemed to briefly regain consciousness, but seeing that it was Dexter, he settled back down. He even nuzzled into Dexter's chest, found a comfortable position, and drifted back into deep sleep.

"Thank you for coming all the way over," Dexter said sincerely, holding Yor as he expressed his gratitude to Leonius. "It takes someone like you—I still have a lot to learn about caring for others."

Leonius looked at his now-empty arms, pausing for a moment.

"...Hm." He turned and walked out of the monitoring cabin.

His back straight and his steps steady.

He only stopped when he reached the corner of the corridor, looking down at his chest.

The fabric there was wrinkled where Yor had grabbed him, with a small patch dampened by sweat.

He reached out and slowly smoothed out the wrinkles.