Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Squatting was killing his legs, and since every bug was out cold anyway, Yor was exhausted too, so he just plopped down on the ground.

Amon quickly sat up and carefully scooped Yor into his arms. "Ground's hard—there's shell fragments."

It really did dig in, so Yor didn't argue.

Amon's body—especially his back—was a mess of wounds. Yor leaned against him, wrapped in the stench of blood, but underneath it, a hint of grass and wood—like rain-soaked, just-mowed grass, sharp, with a bitter edge.

Yor liked it, nuzzling into Amon's neck. The male bug's pheromones flooded over him, so thick his lashes felt heavy. He nudged Amon. "Find us a spot. Let's do it."

With that much pheromone in the air, keeping it together was a struggle.

Amon fished out two nutrient packs from who-knows-where, tearing one open for Yor, then chugging the other in three gulps.

He stood up with Yor in his arms. One of his leg bones was still broken—every step made his brow jump in pain. He walked unevenly, but kept speeding up anyway.

The bouncing made Yor laugh. "Slow down—it's not like I'm gonna bolt."

Yor sounded sure, totally relaxed, and Amon finally slowed his pace.

"I figured what you said earlier... was just to get under Zane's skin." He glanced down at Yor, never thought Mother would actually go for it...

"It was to get under his skin. You mad?" Yor held the nutrient pack between his teeth, sipping at it lazily.

Amon shook his head. "However you use me, it's only fair."

Because he was the Broodmother—that's just how domain bugs were with their Broodmother. But the nutrient pack—already a weird sweet-and-salty mess—suddenly tasted worse.

Yor felt a weird twist in his chest, but Amon suddenly let out a laugh. "Mother, are you upset?"

Yor frowned at him. "If I'm upset, why are you laughing?"

This male bug grinned, all smug and unguarded. "You're upset because of me. Because of me."

Before this, Mother had never had strong feelings about anyone—except Leonius.

Yor glared at him. So damn sensitive, and yet he had to carry all the worst feelings—why hadn't the pain just killed him already? And he was still laughing.

Can't stand a smug bug. Yor drawled, "You're real easygoing. Too easygoing, actually—that's why you pissed me off before."

"!!!" Amon's laugh died in his throat.

He was willing to serve, but... this clearly meant he still wasn't forgiven...

Remembering how Mother had said he didn't want Amon hanging around forever, Amon's chest went tight and bitter. "Mother... you... this isn't what you Blue Star humans call a 'death row meal,' is it? Give me a little taste, then never call for me again?"

The more he thought, the worse it felt. He stopped dead. "Then I don't want it. I'd rather never do that again, ever—just don't send me away."

What a drama queen of a bug... but he was way too perceptive—he'd guessed Yor's plan.

Yor dropped his eyes and stayed quiet.

Fat tears splashed onto Yor's hand, making him flinch.

...Crying again? Who gave him the right?

Yor opened his mouth to say something, then realized he was still lying in the male bug's arms. Arguing from that position had zero authority, and besides...

Yor suddenly realized—he wasn't crippled. Why the hell was he letting a bug carry him around?!

He slid down from Amon, and when his feet hit the ground, he swayed. Too much pheromone had left his legs shaky.

But he didn't let the bug see it. He turned and walked off. "Fine. Don't want to? Forget it."

He walked off, ears pricked for any sound behind him. This stupid bug—he wouldn't actually let him go find someone else, would he... Seraphiel, Zane... he didn't want either of them...

But Amon just stood there. And as Yor walked off, he dropped to his knees with a thud.

Yor looked back without thinking and saw the huge bug on his knees, sobbing his heart out.

"..."

Seeing Yor turn around, Amon finally wailed, "Mother... whatever I did before, I'll change, I'll change everything. I'll listen to you from now on..."

Yor looked at him and asked quietly, "Do you really want to know?"

Amon's heart pounded. He must have done something truly terrible, but now was when Mother was softest toward him. If this couldn't be settled now, it never would be.

Through tear-blurred eyes, he looked at Yor and nodded hard.

Hah, he asked for it.

Yor walked back, looking down at him. "You, before, used your mental power to deceive me, making me think you were Leonius, and forced me."

Amon froze. "Me?? I did that??"

His voice pitched up sharply, as if he'd forgotten to breathe, and he said in disbelief, "Disguised as Leonius, just to do that?"

That question reminded Yor. "No, it was to make me the true Broodmother."

But... what he actually resented wasn't becoming the Broodmother—it was this bug's despicable actions...

Amon was speechless for a long moment, then deflated. "Well... if I had to do it again, I probably would still do the same..."

This was Mother. Even if she despised him, he would never give up finding the Broodmother. In that regard, he was actually more like Zane...

His overly honest words left Yor dumbfounded, and genuinely angry. "When you made that choice, was it out of resentment toward the Broodmother? You didn't want me to escape that identity, you wanted me to suffer like you. Is that what you still think now?"

Amon looked at him in surprise. He opened his mouth several times, but couldn't find the words to describe the relationship between domain bugs and the Broodmother.

He suddenly stood up, pressing his forehead to Yor's. "Let me show you."

This was Yor's first time entering Amon's mental sea.

An ocean soaked in ink. As far as the eye could see, the mental sea was vast swaths of black, with only a single golden region at the very center—Amon's well-preserved self-awareness.

Amon's mental power was struggling to carve a golden "path" through the blackness, inviting his beloved Mother into his consciousness.

Knowing Amon had long been immersed in pain was one thing; truly "seeing" the dire state of his mental sea was another.

Though he knew this pain came from the inheritance of the Broodmother and the Domain Insect Lords of past generations, unrelated to himself, Yor couldn't help but feel a stir of pity, and a faint... guilt.

Amon moved through the blackness with practiced ease, leading Yor to the brightest spot in the mental sea. "That's the most important inheritance I received. You... might want to touch it?"

Yor looked at Amon. Regardless, the domain bug wouldn't harm him... listening a little wouldn't hurt.

He tentatively "reached out" to touch that point of light, and a voice sounded:

——"Allow everything to happen. If it happens anyway even without permission, might as well allow it, openly and generously."

Yor yanked his hand back in horror, staring at Amon in disbelief. That voice...

It was his own voice, laced with a smile and a hint of resignation.

Amon poked his head in, peering around. "You can hear it? This is the Domain Insect Lord's inheritance—the core guidance passed down for serving the Broodmother of your own generation." He looked at the glowing point. "But... only a domain bug trusted by the Broodmother can receive that guidance."

He sounded a little deflated. "I can't hear it clearly yet, but! This light point appeared—it had been gone from the inheritance for many generations, but when it got to me, it suddenly reappeared. So I knew you'd come back, for sure."

Just like Zane, they both believed their mother would come back, no matter how rough and painful the road.

Yor couldn't help but ask, "Then what did you hear?"

Amon lowered his voice. "I can only catch a few words—sincerity... be yourself... those come through clearest, but... I'm sure they're the most important too!"

Yor thought for a moment. True... he could barely stand being lied to, and he had no urge to change who other people—or bugs—were. He just wanted the people... or bugs, close to him to be themselves, so they could get along naturally.

And if he were Amon... knowing his fate was already sealed, he'd probably make the same call. Watching the spiritual space keep getting stained black with ink, Yor couldn't help feeling a little softer toward him.

This was cheating... it was like having a walkthrough handed to him.

Yor sighed and left Amon's spiritual sea.

Amon came out with Yor and immediately picked up on his mother's softened attitude. He sidled up hesitantly. "The only time I ever went against your wishes was about becoming the Broodmother... but you're already the Broodmother now," he paused, "so from now on, there's nothing that would make me defy you again."

He knelt down and pressed his head against Yor's belly. "I promise, I'll do whatever you say from now on... please, don't throw me away..."

And then he started crying again mid-sentence. "Mother, you won't have to tolerate me for much longer. Every day I'm by your side, my pain eases a little. Maybe soon, I'll just... fade away..."

Yor suddenly realized—this bug still bought the crap Zane had fed him, thinking he was just Seraphiel's negative emotions, and once the domain bug stopped hurting, he'd die...

Yor's tone shifted, becoming sly. "So when you're serving me, you're not gonna suddenly disappear halfway through, are you?"

"..."

Amon's face scrunched up for a second. The thought of his mother beneath him, losing control of his expression while moaning his name...

Mm... just thinking about it made his body go all faint...

Yor was cracking up inside. The grass-cage part of a domain bug's body was basically solidified spiritual energy, so the body really did change along with shifts in the spiritual sea—and that just made Amon believe Zane's bullshit even more.

Feeling Yor's good mood, Amon suddenly relaxed. "You... you'll let me stay with you, right?"

Yor nodded and held out his hand to Amon. "Yeah, I guess. It won't be for long anyway."

If it's all meant to happen, then let it happen.

===========

Amon's ship was light and fast. He probably spent a lot of time flying around solo in this thing, his piloting steady and skilled.

When the ship came to a stop in the middle of a starfield, he stood up, put the ship in sightseeing mode, and kissed Yor. "Wait for me a moment."

Before he knew it, the ship's walls had gone completely transparent, the lights extinguished, darkness pressing in from all sides—like they'd been dumped into the middle of nowhere in space with nothing to hold onto.

Yor nervously grabbed the harness across his chest, pressing his fingertips against the metal buckle, feeling its hard, cool touch. Only after confirming he was still strapped tight in the seat did he relax a little and look around.

Outside, it looked like a planet had just blown up, or a stellar storm had recently torn through.

Meteorites of various sizes spun "slowly" in the chaotic currents of space, tugged along by disordered force fields, occasionally colliding.

There was no sound—only bursts of sparks exploding, gold, silver-white, edged with cold blue, like endless fireworks.

Yor leaned back in the seat, watching those sparks for a while, and slowly sank into the embrace of the chair.

Amon emerged from somewhere, his body still carrying damp moisture. After washing away the blood, the scent of greenery was even stronger.

He wore a black gauze robe, and as he moved, his slender limbs showed through, the lean muscles of his waist and abdomen flickering in and out of view.

Firelight flared behind him, tracing a faint halo around his silhouette.

Yor couldn't help glancing downward—the lean muscles on the male bug's waist, faintly visible beneath the edge of the gauze. But the golden bell he had seen last time was absent...

Just one glance, yet the sharp-eyed male bug caught it.

"What are you looking at?" His voice was low, sliding past Yor's ear, still carrying the dampness of moisture.

Yor gripped the harness again, fingertips pressing into the webbing. "...Nothing."

Amon didn't press further. He simply stood before Yor, bent down, and pulled a black rope from beneath the seat—furry, inexplicably reminding one of... Holland.

Yor closed his eyes in despair, wondering why he kept having such wandering thoughts.

Amon probably noticed again. He gave a soft hum, lowered his head, and wound the rope around Yor's wrist in slow, unhurried loops, deliberately giving Yor time to refuse.

"You're always like this," he said as he wrapped, his voice almost grinding with frustration. "The iron shoulder of that hunk, Seraphiel's waist chain, Holland's furry collar... anything can carve a place in your heart..."

The knot tightened—not painfully, but not easily loosened either.

Amon straightened up, his fingertip tracing along the inside of Yor's bound wrist. "But... at least right now, you're mine."

Yor's fingertips curled. A chill ran over his skin—his clothes had been undone at some point, falling to the floor without a sound.

The seat reclined, flattening his view. Above him stretched a slow-turning sea of stars, meteorites dragging trails of light along fixed orbits, sliding past silently—just like the male bug before him, drawing closer along orbits that looped again and again...

Yor's pheromones spread uncontrollably, every gland burning hot. The scent of greenery wrapped around him, crisp and clean, like something just sprouted from moist soil.

"I haven't bathed yet..." he protested, but his voice came out softer than intended.

"No need." Amon's hand was already on his waist, his palm still carrying a hint of cool moisture. "I'll take care of it."

With a rush of water, the rest of the cabin silently retracted into the walls. Everything was empty except Yor's seat.

Warm water rose from invisible outlets, slowly flooding past the edge of the seat, soaking Yor and the chair together into this makeshift starry bath.

Amon kept his word. He knelt before Yor, cleaning his beloved mother bit by bit, leaving no corner untouched.

Ripples shimmered like scattered silver under the starlight. The male bug bent low, firelight spilling in, fragments of light flowing across the curve of his shoulder blades.

Those hands cradled his lower back, fingertips pressing slightly into the flesh, followed by deeper, more intimate touches. Warm water lapped against the cabin walls in waves. Pheromones, as if a lock had finally been released after being held too long, poured out from within—from body temperature to breath, radiating outward, swelling beyond control.

Amid the vast river of stars, the Broodmother's consciousness scattered like those meteorites above, dissolving into a blur of firelight in the chaotic force fields...

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

Stir-frying rice is too hard—my hair is falling out.