The only treatment plan for mental sea atrophy is to be soothed by a powerful Alpha’s pheromones. However, LAN is allergic to them; marking would not only fail to alleviate the condition but would actually accelerate the rate of atrophy, further shortening his lifespan.
A dead end.
Thus, when Evan saw LAN being bitten by the little merman, his impulse was to shoot him on the spot.
Evan arrived at the private medical room with a heavy heart and pushed the door open.
LAN was lying face down on the clinical bed. His blood-stained golden medium-length hair had been brushed to one side, and a delicate, agile robotic arm was cleaning the wound.
Panel Nine stood on guard nearby, sternly reprimanding: “Chief, playing around is fine. But don’t overdo it. Internal knotting is a no-go, saliva injection is a no-go any other positions you want to unlock are up to you.”
“I’d rather unlock a permanent mute setting for your voice system, you talkative AI.”
Nine shut up instantly.
Evan walked over and asked, “How are you feeling now?”
“Won’t die.” LAN could tell Evan was in a bad mood and gave a rare, muffled chuckle.
Nine: “…” Why did LAN have two faces? AIs really have no human rights.
The robotic arm finished rinsing the wound, applied gauze, and took the blood sample it had collected to place it into the testing device to wait for results.
Afterward, LAN lay inside a semi-open circular treatment pod for a full-body examination.
Nine and Evan followed him over together.
Evan asked, “So, what exactly is the deal with this little merman?”
“It can be determined that he is not a spy,” LAN answered. The ultrasound was scanning his brain, but it didn’t hinder the subject from speaking.
LAN knew Evan wasn’t just asking that, but he was feeling somewhat restless and didn’t want to explain this “accident” to his subordinate. This was a result of his own carelessness; otherwise, a D-rank Alpha would never have been able to violate him so easily.
“Nine, Evan.”
“Present.”
“Here.”
LAN recalled the trembling sensation of the little merman’s lips pressing against his nape and made a decision:
“Adjust the upcoming flight plan. Search for a planet suitable for merman life on the outskirts of the Human Federation’s star sector as our next destination.”
It didn’t matter if he was a spy or not; he just wanted to get rid of An Ming as soon as possible.
“…Understood.” Nine was puzzled. Bored of him already? It seemed the little merman wasn’t very capable.
“No problem!” Evan, on the other hand, was very decisive.
At the same time, Beep, beep, beep… the sample test was complete, and the report began to print automatically.
Both LAN and Evan cast their gazes toward it.
Nine’s intelligent network was connected to all the ship’s equipment and had already read the results in advance. Whatever it saw caused its black panel to go dark for a split second.
The next moment, Nine itself and every light in the medical room began flashing frantically.
“What kind of pie just fell from the sky!” it screamed hysterically.
An Ming slept for an entire day and night.
Since crossing over, this was the first time he had touched a bed, so he slept exceptionally deeply.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in total darkness. A few seconds later, the smart lighting sensed he was awake and automatically turned on, emitting a faint, warm glow.
An Ming stared at the light in a daze as memories flooded back like a tide.
He… had pinned down the mixed-blood dragon, as if facing a juicy steak, scratching and gnawing… and finally, crunch, he bit down… and even sucked twice…
An Ming felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer. His brain went blank for a long time before he finally regained consciousness.
He closed his eyes again in despair.
It’s over… I was supposed to be let go…
Knock, knock! A faint knocking sound came from the door.
An Ming jumped up in a fright. Only then did he realize he wasn’t locked in a prison cell.
The bed was soft. He crept to the bedroom door and peeked through the crack; the living room layout looked very familiar. He was still in LAN’s room!
Knock, knock! The knocking sounded again.
“Who is it?!” An Ming asked, startled and uncertain.
“It’s me, the lovely Nine,” Nine’s mechanical voice said from outside. “The monitors show you’re awake. I’m here to bring some food.”
An Ming walked to the door with weak legs. “How do I open it?”
As soon as he spoke, the door opened automatically. A four-wheeled small meal cart slid in, followed by the “board” that was Nine. Its rectangular mechanical arm was extended forward, holding a stack of clothes.
“If it weren’t for the door replacement, I wouldn’t have been able to get back my high-level permissions,” Nine said to itself, stuffing the clothes into An Ming’s arms. It added, “How many days has it been since you bathed? Wash up and change into these in a bit.”
An Ming looked at the military uniform, which was identical to those worn by the soldiers: “…”
He asked tentatively, “Will I be publicly executed? Or kept here… to be slowly tortured?” His eyes grew red as he finished the question.
“Huh?” Nine didn’t understand. It set the food down, and the meal cart rolled back out. “Torture? Like S and M? Why are you asking me that? I can’t interfere with your ‘activities,’ and besides—”
It turned to look at the little merman and let out a long sigh. “Such a good ‘pie,’ why wouldn’t he want it?”
Pie? An Ming looked at the tray. There was no pie, just bread. He had no appetite.
“Will I be killed?” he asked again.
This time Nine understood and said in shock, “How could that be? Nothing is going to happen to you, and the suspicion of being a spy has been cleared.”
“LAN isn’t angry?” It was An Ming’s turn to be shocked.
“No.” Nine thought of something, its voice dropping. “He’s not just ‘not angry,’ he completely doesn’t care.”
An Ming felt that this big board spoke in a way that was hard to understand; perhaps its intelligence was limited. However, hearing that his life was not in danger, he immediately cheered up.
He sat down and began to eat. It was still bread, beef, and vegetable puree likely because food variety is limited during interstellar travel.
Nine watched him eat, looking as though it wanted to say something but hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” An Ming asked while eating bread. He saw the light on the speaker on the panel flicker on and off repeatedly, but it didn’t speak.
Nine: “…Nothing. Waiting to collect the tray.”
“Oh.” An Ming sped up. Having an AI looming over him was a bit strange since it felt quite human-like, so he tried to make conversation. “What happened to me before?”
“Rutting period syndrome. Your body and mind were slightly out of control,” Nine explained. “An Alpha’s rut usually lasts between 2 to 5 days. Yours has passed.”
“Mm.” It matched what he had guessed. “Then… LAN… how is he?”
Actually, he had wanted to ask the moment Nine walked in, but thinking about the suggestive things he had done to LAN made him incredibly bashful.
“How could he be?” Nine said sarcastically. “He lost a bit of skin; otherwise, he’s perfectly fine.”
“Really?” An Ming didn’t believe it. In his blurred memories, he seemed quite… fierce.
“Really. If you slept for one more day, it would have healed completely.”
“I’d rather you had hurt him more seriously. That way, you’d have to take responsibility.”
An Ming felt that Nine was occasionally an “Artificial Idiot.”
After finishing the meal, An Ming felt quite good. Having eaten and slept his fill, the disheveled state he’d been in since being kidnapped by the black-market traders was gone.
His body felt a bit sticky, though, and he wanted to take a bath quickly.
Nine took the tray and headed for the door, stopping and starting as if its wheels were stuck.
“An Ming.” Its lights flashed intensely until it finally spoke. “I am risking being punched through to ask you this: do you want to stay?”
“Stay?” An Ming was dazed. Why? LAN had promised to settle him on a planet. Since he was innocent, that promise should still stand.
Nine continued: “I hope you stay. Stay by LAN’s side, maybe give him a marking every now and then.”
An Ming’s face turned bright red. He already understood the ABO setting and knew what “marking” meant, and he also knew he had already done something very intimate to LAN.
How could Nine say something so scandalous so easily?
Nine stared at the little merman.
Seeing he couldn’t dodge the answer, An Ming said, “Don’t you… have many Alphas…?”
He felt awkward just saying it. The leader and his soldiers… An Ming didn’t dare think about it in detail; it made his whole body feel uncomfortable.
“They won’t do. LAN thinks they smell too bad,” Nine said immediately. “And no subordinate would dare covet him; the Chief’s pheromones only make them weak in the knees. The key is—”
Nine paused. Seeing the merman listening intently, it quickly evaluated what could and couldn’t be said. “The key is that LAN is allergic to all Alpha pheromones, except yours.”
An Ming blinked.
Nine: “You are very special.”
An Ming searched his memories. While pheromone allergies weren’t fatal, they were a hassle. An allergic reaction meant the A or O wouldn’t enjoy the marking process and would suffer from itching and pain afterward.
However, an Omega doesn’t necessarily die without an Alpha’s pheromones; they just have to live a solitary life if they can’t find a compatible partner.
Adults inevitably have needs. Did LAN… have those kinds of thoughts about him?
An Ming’s face flushed deep red. He realized… he didn’t actually mind.
Nine looked at the merman: “Is it a ‘yes’?”
Of course, it couldn’t reveal the matter of the mental sea atrophy and the three-year lifespan. And unfortunately, An Ming was only a D-rank; he was too weak to treat LAN. Based on LAN’s current condition, he could only delay the inevitable, not cure it.
But still, every extra day alive counted. Why was LAN refusing?
Nine really didn’t understand.
An Ming was still caught up in his shyness. He asked, “Did LAN ask you to come and ask me?”
Nine: “…No.” It wasn’t that it couldn’t lie, it just didn’t dare lie about LAN.
An Ming was confused.
Nine: “…”
An Ming figured this was Nine acting on its own. He said, “Since he doesn’t have that need, and I… I don’t either, then let’s just forget it.”
An Ming’s logic was clear. According to the plot of the book, LAN was the leader of the rebel army and the primary rival of the protagonist, the Human Prince.
He didn’t want to get involved in the plot, and whether LAN was allergic or not didn’t really have anything to do with him. He would definitely choose to leave.
Nine was somewhat disappointed: “So you’re leaving.”
An Ming opened his mouth, but the words to say he was leaving wouldn’t come out.
Nine’s entire panel looked lifeless. It opened the door and walked out. An Ming stood inside the doorway watching it.
“Our survey work on Mimas-1 has ended,” Nine said in the hallway. “Next, we go to planet Alpha-875-A in the Cloud Whale Constellation. Many merpeople live there. You will be settled there, so don’t worry too much.”
“Thank you,” An Ming said gratefully.
Nine added, “The journey takes about three days. Continue using this room. If you need anything, just tell me. There’s a communication device in the living room. Alright, go bathe. Don’t worry, I can’t see into the bedroom or bathroom; there are only basic safety alarms. Your privacy is not an issue.”
“…Thank you.” An Ming didn’t know what else to say.
Left alone in the room, he looked toward the circular porthole. Only then did he realize the ship was already in outer space.
The eternal darkness of the universe knows no day or night.