Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Young people never know when to stop, and young bugs even less so.

Unlike Leonius, who always kept a close eye on his own condition, Taste... just charged in headfirst.

And it wasn't like he kept his mouth shut about it either. Even after becoming a Sub-Lord, and at a moment like this, Taste was still so... chatty.

"You just took off like that, didn't even say goodbye... mm... is it here?..."

"You left without a word. I told myself back then, if I ever found you, I'd make you say my name a hundred times... a thousand times!!"

"...Say it now, huh?... Yor, say my name... say Taste... oh oh..."

"...Don't pinch me, don't... don't... okay okay, does your stomach still hurt? I've still got pheromones..."

....

Yor's nails dug into his shoulder, his voice grinding out between clenched teeth: "...Shut up."

Taste didn't shut up.

He ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of Yor's neck, his voice muffled, tinged with a mix of hurt and stubbornness: "...No, I won't."

....

Even though the pheromones had been topped off and the gestational sac was doing a lot better... Yor felt like his back was about to give out.

Yor had tried to call it quits, but this young bug—maybe feeling guilty—once the lights were off and his eyes were shut, just pretended he couldn't hear him.

Yor had a strong suspicion that this sneaky young bug, even after taking off his mechanical limbs, had left a motor in the waist joint, which was why he never seemed to run out of steam...

Still, a Sub-Lord was only a Sub-Lord after all—there was a limit to how much he could give, and the pheromones he released gradually thinned out.

In the dark, Yor suddenly asked, "Taste, what's going on? Why did Dexter send you?"

Taste's movements hitched, his voice muffled. "Why do you ask?"

Yor pressed his still-throbbing belly. "Dexter's always careful. For him to suddenly send you here, something's definitely up."

"You trust him that much?" Taste was like a spoiled brat, his movements turning rough. "In your heart, they're all better than me, more important than me, right?"

They...

Yor dropped his gaze, hiding the turmoil inside. "Is... something wrong with Leonius?"

Whether it was just his imagination or not, Taste felt that when this name left Yor's lips, it carried a warmth and softness that made him see red. He slapped... himself hard, his voice loud and wounded: "What could happen to him? He's about to have a kid you're carrying for him, what the hell could happen to him!!!"

Yor whipped his head around. "How do you know I'm carrying his kid?"

"..."

Taste was like a chicken with its neck wrung, his face bright red, completely unable to speak.

Yor rubbed his forehead. But that wasn't the priority right now. He gave Taste a shove. "Go out to the courtyard and bring Lima and Herman here—the two male bugs who were protecting me earlier."

"Male bugs? Two of them?!! How can you be thinking about other male bugs at a time like this?" Taste was about to blow a gasket. "Who are they? Have me and my brother already been shoved ten thousand miles away in your heart?"

Yor almost laughed despite his anger—now he remembered that Dexter was his brother. "What's wrong with other male bugs? There's another male bug's kid in my belly, and you're still..."

His voice trailed off, the rest of the sentence left hanging.

Taste was left speechless, his voice hard. "I'm not going!!"

Yor's head throbbed from this brat's tantrum. "They just saved my life, so go!"

"No, I won't! If they die, it's because their rank's too low, they had it coming!!"

What the hell did he mean by "rank too low, they had it coming"?!

Who had it coming?!

In his eyes, did Yor have it coming too, for ending up like this?

How could he say something like that?

Yor was so furious he raised his hand and slapped Taste across the face. The sharp crack of the slap and the sting in his palm hit at the same time, and even Yor himself was shocked.

But... Lima and Herman were on the brink of death. Yor's voice cracked with a sob: "Are you going or not?"

Taste froze, looking into Yor's eyes. He was silent for two seconds, then suddenly swung off the bed.

Throwing on clothes, yanking open the door, bolting out—no more than three seconds total.

A dull thud came from outside, like he'd run into something, but his footsteps didn't let up.

"Don't move!" His voice came back from a distance. "I'll be right back!"

Yor lay in bed, listening to those footsteps quickly fade, swallowed up by the ship's hatch.

He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

In the silence, everything that had just happened—the mercenary's vicious glare and attacks, Herman's severed leg and blood, Lima's body lying there motionless...

Yor suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. His chest felt like a boulder was sitting on it, heavy and suffocating. Every breath in took everything he had.

His hands started to shake—first his fingers, then his wrists, then his whole arm.

His stomach was doing somersaults. Yor held it in as best he could, forcing himself up, stumbling into the bathroom. He crouched by the toilet, arching his back with effort, but nothing came up—just dry heaves, wave after wave, like his body was rejecting everything that had just happened in the most primal way.

Distract yourself, think about something else...

The starry sky... the river of stars, summer rain, spring flowers, autumn wind...

Yor's lips trembled as he tried to remember. He'd always been strong, someone who loved life...

After a moment, his breathing finally evened out.

He looked up at himself in the mirror—pale face, a trace of moisture still on his lips, a faint flush at the corners of his eyes...

Disheveled, sure, but still carrying a hint of spring.

He dropped his gaze, avoiding his own reflection.

Was it... disgust?

Not really.

Mostly... it was a panic attack.

His rational mind told him that being alive mattered more than anything else.

Taste's pheromones had indeed saved him just now—the gestational sac had settled down, the sharp pain had receded, and that desperate, draining thirst had been suppressed.

But his body... his body remembered those weights that weren't his own, those traces of intrusion.

His body was more honest than his mind.

Yor closed his eyes, then opened them again.

But... did he resist it enough to want to die?

No, not that. This was Taste, after all.

Taste, who'd cheerfully sling him over his shoulder and run to the port;

Taste, who handed him nutrient fluid and said, "I'll rob my brother to take care of you";

Taste, who was carefree, with a ton of friends, always laughing and joking;

Taste, who called himself a home worm...

He couldn't blame Taste, but he also... couldn't just take this in stride.

Taste returned quickly—before the ship's door even fully opened, his voice was already forcing its way in: "I brought 'em! They're still out cold, but at least..."

He rushed into the med bay, saw Yor already sitting up, the watery look gone from his eyes. He said, a little cautiously, "...They're still breathing."

Male bugs are still pretty hard to kill.

Lima and Herman were laid out flat on the floor. Taste wheeled over the med pod, and mechanical arms reached out to treat their wounds.

Basic equipment, but it worked—at least the bleeding stopped, the large gashes closed up, and the severed mechanical limbs were reattached. The two bugs didn't look so messed up anymore.

Yor leaned against the bed's edge, hand pressed to his lower belly. The sharp pain that had just been pushed down was still there, just turned from tearing agony into a dull, throbbing ache.

He took a deep breath, enduring the waves of sour ache in his gut, and started squeezing his gland.

His just-recharged body was stingy, refusing to spare extra energy to make honey.

It hurt—hurt so bad that tears came from the pure pain. He squeezed the gland until it was swollen and red, almost breaking the skin, but finally, one tiny drop of pale gold dripped onto the spoon.

His fingertips trembling, Yor handed the spoon to Taste: "Go, feed 'em this."

This time, Taste didn't pitch a fit. He just sighed, then shoved something he'd grabbed from the med pod into Yor's hand. "This is for you. See—doesn't it look like me grinning?"

Yor could never quite follow Taste's wild train of thought, let alone now, when he was still recovering from the pain. Staring at the thing in his hand with its faint, cold-white glow, he looked almost dazed: "What is this?"

"It's a bone," Taste said, turning it around. "Look at it like this—doesn't it look like me smiling?"

Hearing his nonsense, Yor couldn't help but study it seriously.

The main part of the bone was a shallow curve, with two matching dents on the edges, making the whole bone actually look like a smiley face—the two dents were curved eyes, and the ridge in the middle was like a goofy, big-mouthed grin.

The way the mouth curved, all cocky like that, it did kinda look like him.

The bone was clean and rounded, its surface polished smooth, but the longer Yor looked at it, the more something felt wrong. He hesitated, then asked, "Where'd you get this bone?"

And there it was...

"Mine," Taste said, like Yor's question was ridiculous. Feeding honey to the two male bugs, he answered without looking back, "It's my fifth lumbar vertebra. When I was growing my new body, this part was in the way, so I broke it off. But when I pulled it out, the more I looked at it, the more it looked like me, so I kept it, cleaned it up, and saved it for you."

Didn't breaking a bone hurt? And he had time to think about crap like this?

Yor stared at him, then finally said, blankly, "Oh... uh... thanks?"

Taste shook his head. "Keep it. If you get mad and wanna kick me out, look at it, then forgive me."

Yor: ??????

What the hell are you talking about???

Taste said, totally confident: "My new body, my Sub-Lord rank—all came from eating your honey. If I do something that pisses you off, it's because I'm leaning on the confidence you gave me."

"......."

It was so stupid that Yor didn't even want to argue with this idiot, but... he still tucked the bone away.

Taste ran his mouth with nonsense, but his hands were careful—after all, this was honey Yor had squeezed out with so much pain.

Not long after the golden liquid went in, the two male bugs' breathing got noticeably deeper, not as weak as before. Herman's fingers even twitched, and he woke up soon after.

The tough, stoic warrior propped himself up on his arms and sat up, quickly recalling what happened before he blacked out. He looked down at his mostly healed wounds, was quiet for a second, didn't ask questions, and just looked at Taste: "Is your ship far from the hill?"

Taste was caught off guard: "...Not far, a few minutes by air."

Herman nodded and got up.

He took two steps along the cabin wall, his reattached mechanical limb stiff but barely working.

He paused at the door, not turning around: "I'll go handle the stuff in the yard, and... Wicks's lab."

Yor's face tightened. Wicks had gone through all that trouble to grab him—he must've found something. His lab really did need... a full cleanup.

Taste also snapped to it, looking a bit regretful. He was too inexperienced, too green—he hadn't even thought of that.

After Herman left, it took a while before Lima woke up.

His lashes fluttered twice, and as he came to, he immediately turned his head to look for Yor. Only when he saw Yor sitting there safe did he breathe a sigh of relief, then realized his wounds had mostly healed.

Remembering how Taste's pheromones came back after he ate the honey and regrew his body, Yor got curious—would Lima...?

Lima, like a worm in his gut, immediately caught his curiosity and gave a small shake of his head. "No. The honey can fix my body, but it can't change my genes. A hybrid... is just meant to be this way."

He didn't dwell on it at all, just walked over to Yor, pulled him into his arms, and let him lean against his chest.

His motherly embrace was as warm and healing as always. Even before Lima started any mental soothing, Yor already felt a little lighter.

But Lima frowned: "You threw up earlier? Feeling really sick?"

Yor nodded: "Yeah, queasy."

Taste stood nearby, his face changing completely.

Yor heard him suck in a sharp breath, then hold it, his eyes going red as he looked over: "Throwing up? Is it 'cause..."

Because of me?

"Almost getting caught by the Purification Clan, I was too stressed," Yor said vaguely. "And I thought you were dead—I kept thinking about whether I'd actually gotten you killed..."

He paused, not finishing the sentence. "Quick, check my mental state. I'm still not feeling well."

Lima didn't call him out. He lowered his head, gathered his mental energy into a thin layer, and draped it over the surface of Yor's mental sea, like a sun-warmed blanket being laid over him.

Yor slowly relaxed under that faint layer, his breathing lengthening, his shoulders sinking, no longer so tense.

Taste crouched in the corner, hugging his knees, his gaze locked on Yor without once looking away.

So relaxed, so trusting... completely different from how he'd been beneath him just moments ago.

His lips moved a few times, like he wanted to speak, but he swallowed the words back.

He didn't dare ask, didn't dare listen, and didn't want to give himself any chance to regret.

What's done is done. He wouldn't regret it.

Yor closed his eyes, listening to the low hum of the ship's life support system.

Only when his breathing finally evened out did he open his eyes. "Taste, what the hell happened? Why did Dexter send you?"

Knowing he couldn't dodge the question, Taste's throat bobbed. "When Dexter sent me, he said Leonius sensed his kid..."

Yor's face went white in an instant. "How is that possible... I clearly... Leonius shouldn't remember anything..."

His voice trailed off, but he knew the insectoid race—this bizarre species—had many traits he couldn't control.

In his panic, his mental energy surged out uncontrollably, like a drowning person grabbing at anything nearby—latching onto Lima's mental energy and even reaching out to connect with Taste.

The moment the mental link opened, a wave of fear flooded into the two male insects.

Taste was jolted by the wave of emotion, his whole body shuddering. He stayed crouched, feeling Yor's uncontrollable trembling.

His instinct to protect the Broodmother made him bare his fangs, his eyes turning fierce. "Yor, Leonius's first priority is definitely the War Department. You're right to worry—if he finds out you're the real Broodmother, he'll lock you up and make you lay eggs till you die."

He stood up, leaning close to Yor, his eyes gleaming startlingly bright in the dim light. "Give me more honey, Yor. Give me a lot of honey, let me grow into a Lord, and I'll kill Leonius."

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

Brave doggo, eats first.

Brave people, enjoy life first.

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