Chapter 93
The ten-minute countdown ended, the encrypted channel was instantly destroyed, and Hessen's face disappeared into thin air. Perhaps it was the vibration when the data disappeared that made the gentle and composed general look somewhat distorted.
In the empty command room, Celtic lit a cigarette.
The female soldiers, tormented by their inability to obtain male insects, suffer from the torment of their psychic bursts. In addition to male insect pheromones, they also use other means to alleviate their pain, such as smoking and drinking, war, or fighting with their colleagues.
Celtic rarely used these methods. He disapproved of any way to alleviate pain. He faced the pain head-on, and the pain made him clear-headed, allowing him to take each step with precision.
Comfort and pleasure can make insects complacent and even addicted, and they will only succumb to their desires on very rare occasions.
He didn't usually have the equipment to light such things, so Dick reached out and lit it for him.
The tiny crimson flame lit up in the darkness. He didn't inhale, but simply held it until the scalding heat burned his palm, and the tobacco-scented tip burned into white ash that slowly fell.
Dick stood beside him, unable to contain himself any longer: "Marshal, you know perfectly well that Hilgard is deceiving you."
Months ago, I had already observed Hilgard's conversation with Nathaniel through a glass window.
The Empire's technology, after trying millions of combinations to interpret lip movements, arrived at a conclusion that was far more ruthless than any flowery rhetoric.
That seemingly noble, beautiful, and spotless male insect actually harbors a heart full of revenge and hatred.
He is a flower that grows in a poisonous swamp, waiting to drag you into the depths of the toxic swamp and drown you.
“Yes.” A point of burning crimson was embedded deep in the cold depths of Celt’s eyes.
Of course I know he's lying to me, but if I don't expose him, he can continue to lie.
He is a trap paved with flowers, so at least before the trap came, the flowers and love truly existed.
"Connect me to His Highness Hilgard's communications."
After finishing his cigarette, Celt went into the bathroom to tidy himself up. The cold light in the mirror reflected the sharp features of the female insect's unapproachable face. He washed his tobacco-stained fingers with water until he was sure there was no trace of smoke left.
Hill doesn't dislike the smell of cigarettes, but he's too sensitive and gets a bit choked by strong odors.
Even if what appears here now is only an image of Hilgard.
The morning star and the capital star are separated by several star systems, and the night of the morning star corresponds to the dawn of the capital star.
At six in the morning, Hilgard was already sitting upright at his desk, handling the matters he had to deal with. His long silver hair reached his knees, and he wore the pureblood ring on his ring finger, a ring that His Majesty the Insect King had granted him temporary power.
A scarlet ring encircles the male insect's long ring finger, representing both immense power and heavy responsibility.
Sirius was indifferent to everything; the only reason he fought with Nathaniel was because Hill wanted it, and Hill could no longer pass the burden to Sirius.
He couldn't rely on any insects to accomplish all this; he could only rely on himself, because no other insects were reliable. No matter how tired he was, he had to stand on his own.
"Your Highness, good day." Celt bowed, but his eyes remained fixed on Hill, a habit of his; arrogant and haughty, he showed no respect whatsoever to male insects.
Even with this thought, his face remained completely expressionless: "What is it?"
"After the insect egg is awakened, it needs to be watered by the male father every half month. I will subdue the star system north of the Morning Star within three days. May I invite you to come then?"
In the past, if Hill had heard Celt openly talk about such things, he would probably have been so ashamed that he would have burrowed into Celt's arms and refused to come out. But now, Hill was only assessing in his mind whether he could spare the limited time to make arrangements.
Time changed the insect so quickly that it seemed absurd to him in an instant.
Useless military meetings can be eliminated, the red tape of the Imperial Diet can be cut, and the physical examination can be done en route. As long as we are careful with our budget, that's all we need to do.
“Okay.” Hill nodded slightly in agreement.
Even a good weapon needs regular oiling and maintenance. If you're going to use it, you should keep it in top condition.
But this will cut into his rest time.
Hill's expression didn't change much, but Celtic knew he was unhappy. His azure eyes seemed to have deepened, and the faint light in them had dimmed.
A minute later, Hill looked at Celt with displeasure. He had achieved his goal, so why hadn't he disappeared from his sight yet?
"Is there anything else?"
Celt raised his hand and flashed the quantum computer next to his ear. Hilgard frowned; Celt had been dealing with other things while talking to him.
Busy or disrespectful?
Just before Hilgard hung up, Celtic spoke up: "I just informed Drake that he doesn't need to come."
Hill's brows furrowed suddenly, like a thin layer of ice rising from a rippled pool of water: "You've been spying on my itinerary?"
This violates boundaries, especially for Hilgard today.
"Just leave it on the table. I saw it by accident and I'm willing to accept any punishment."
There is indeed a clear timeline: "But that's not a reason for you to make decisions for me."
You are just a female insect; you don't deserve that title.
Hill extended his fingertip, his face cold, preparing to contact Drake, when he heard Celt's voice the moment his fingertip hovered over the ground.
"Congressman Drake was looking for a project grant from you to the military, and the military has information to support this. I just made a donation using my own credits to make up for the grant."
"Drake has taken up fifteen minutes of your schedule. Now, may I have a free pass on your time?"
Hill paused slightly, raising his eyes to look at the tall female soldier in front of him.
Celtic's illusory, lifelike projection strode to his side and covered his eyes with his palm—an illusory palm that could not offer any obstruction.
"Hill, you can rest for another fifteen minutes." The female insect's voice came from afar, so far away, as far as a dream.
The male insect's Adam's apple bobbed slightly on its long, white neck, as if it wanted to say something, but in the end it said nothing. It turned its head slightly away, unwilling to face Celt, and pursed its lips tightly.
He was sleepy and tired, and didn't want to maintain this aloof and arrogant demeanor. He felt that sitting so straight hurt his back and was not comfortable at all. He wanted to curl up in a warm and comfortable embrace.
The female insect's large, veiny hands would comb his long hair again and again, even gently stroking it in his sleep.
He wanted her to hold him tighter, even tighter, without leaving a single gap. He longed to sleep peacefully in the female insect's arms, undisturbed by anything.
I'll sleep until the end of time, until the universe reaches its end, until there's nothing left.
"Hill, don't think about anything."
No, no, I can't stop thinking about things. I still have many things to deal with and decide, even if they are not what I want.
He tried to struggle, but the embrace was too warm, like countless hands pulling him down, down, endlessly...
But in the end, he really didn't think about anything.
Celtic stared at Hill's slightly downturned lips, his expression a mixture of displeasure and grievance.
Hill sleeps a lot, isn't very energetic, needs sleep to replenish his energy, likes to stay in bed, needs a nap, needs a certain amount of food to cheer him up, and he's also very clingy.
He's the kind of little guy who, even when he's asleep at night, will unconsciously rub his legs together and stick to things. If Celtic has something to do at night, he'll feel wronged and won't be able to sleep well.
Instead of forcing himself to stay awake like this, he could only briefly glimpse a trace of the past when he was asleep.
Before fifteen minutes had even passed, the time machine had already started reminding Hilgard after thirteen minutes.
The young male insect opened his eyes with a moment of reluctance and irritation, but he quickly suppressed all his emotions. He pursed his lips and realized that his posture was different from before.
He went from turning his head away, unwilling to face Celtic, to subconsciously burying his head in Celtic's virtual phantom.
Hill's fingers suddenly clenched.
He hated this unconscious, subconscious behavior, as if it went against his heart; his body was still habitually dependent on this insect.
Hill pressed the stop button, and Celtic's figure was instantly swallowed up.
The male insect leaned against its seat, its lips pressed tightly together, its somewhat gloomy and cold gaze blankly staring into the empty space ahead.
After a while, the shame and anger in his eyes gradually faded, leaving only the coldness of ashes, and a faint breeze blew the male insect's drooping silver hair.
A deciphered encrypted message lay quietly inside the quantum computer in my hand.
The female insect was making a looping sound inside.
"What if what I want is the position of the Insect Emperor?"
Hilgard was merely a tool for him to reach this path, just as Hilgard used him as a tool to take revenge on Hessen. They used each other and then put on this hypocritical show.
It was so disgusting that the insect felt like vomiting.
Bright walked in and asked cautiously, "Why do you think Hessen sent this communication?"
The situation on the battlefield has just begun to improve, which means that using Marshal Celtic was the right thing to do.
“Just stirring up trouble,” Hill said with a cold smile, “but he seems to have forgotten one thing: who can sow discord between a tool and its master?”
Tools are only important if they work well; if they don't work well, just replace them. No feelings or relationships are needed.
He doesn't need it.
Author's Note:
The baby slime bugs don't even have the strength to lift their legs or rub against anything anymore. [cat emoji]
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