“Lord Noah, Mr. Orwell.” The butler stood at the corner of the stairs and reminded them: “The starship is ready, and the academy has made all preparations. You may depart at any time.”
His Excellency Saint stopped moving.
He regained his cold expression and nodded as if nothing had happened: “I understand.”
Igris was still looking at him.
In just these few seconds, the male had already regained his composure. Sunlight streamed through the thin window, falling into his clear golden eyes. It did not look cold; instead, it resembled fish swimming beneath a frozen winter lake, filled with spirit and vitality. In no way did he look like he was angry.
Igris moved his gaze away without a trace.
He had to find an opportunity to test him again.
“Shall we go to the academy now?” Igris asked.
Noah paused and did not answer immediately.
The academy headquarters was located at the intersection of the star ring between the Capital Planet and Aerselan, known as the Tower of Truth.
As the name suggests, its exterior was a silver-blue floating tower that resembled a gene spiral structure. It contained thirty-three floors, each consisting of laboratories of various sizes. Within each laboratory lay the civilizations that had been devoured by the Zerg over tens of thousands of years.
Under normal circumstances, the Zerg would not activate these genes, wisdom, and technologies from alien civilizations, as it would break their own inherent internal cycle.
However, not using them did not mean they did not exist, nor did it mean they would not be used.
As long as the privileged classes deemed it necessary, they could immediately retrieve the specific genes or technologies they required from the Tower of Truth through the academy.
It was designed for instant access and immediate use.
In fact, this was precisely what gave Noah a headache.
The fact that standard Zerg medical technology had no way to treat memory loss without damaging mental power did not mean the academy’s stored technology lacked such methods.
Yet, he could not actually go to those brain-slugs at the academy for treatment.
He could not just let them treat any kind of illness. What if they actually managed to cure him?
Thinking of this, His Excellency Saint tilted his head slightly, secretly glancing at the female beside him, feeling worried.
He had not yet managed to tame this big fierce beast beside him.
If he recovered his memory now, wouldn’t that be like fleeing before the battle?
If possible, he quite wanted to fulfill the commission his pre-amnesia self had entrusted to him.
Igris naturally did not miss the hidden hesitation and conflict in the male’s eyes. He understood in his heart, yet his expression remained as usual, and he said considerately: “If you have other urgent arrangements this morning, we can put the academy visit aside for now and go in a couple of days.”
Noah’s heart tightened.
“No need.”
Pulling his head out is one cut, and shrinking it is also one cut. If he hesitated any longer, there was no telling what this Councilor, whose mind was full of traps, would suspect next. Noah delayed for a few seconds before simply saying: “Let us depart now.”
One hour later.
The reception room on the first floor of the Tower of Truth at the Aerselan star ring intersection.
“Good day, Mr. Orwell.” The academy official in charge of reception nodded politely, then turned and bowed skillfully to His Excellency Saint: “Good day, Lord Noah. You look wonderful today.”
“Would you like to drink something?” he asked.
The aloof His Excellency Saint would, of course, not waste words on trivial matters like choosing a drink. The Councilor naturally ordered on his behalf, appearing thoughtful: “Then bring two cups of Darius mixed tea.”
Noah: “.”
Looking for trouble early in the morning; his mate truly had no taste.
“Forget it.”
The Councilor suddenly changed his mind: “Perhaps fruit juice is better. Drinking something bitter early in the morning makes me feel like the rest of the day’s work will be bitter as well. What do you think, my lord?”
His Excellency Saint did not comment.
It would barely suffice. The taste of a normal female was just like that.
“Wait.”
Before the academy official could bring the juice, the black-haired female pondered for a long time and said with a smile: “Change it to moo-moo milk instead. My sleep quality has been average lately. Drinking some milk will help with sleep.”
Noah: “!”
Great, he liked that.
The academy official: “?”
He suspected the Councilor was messing with him, and he had evidence.
How could a female be so particular about a drink? The academy official felt speechless and could not help but cast a glance at the male, secretly hoping His Excellency Saint would scold the troublesome mate on the spot. As cold and steady as His Excellency Saint was, he surely would not like moo-moo milk, a drink exclusively for little larvae.
As expected.
His Excellency Saint moved.
His Excellency Saint frowned slightly, and with a majestic, oppressive gaze, glared at the mate beside him. The latter did not blush or gasp, his face filled with righteousness, as if he were a dead pig unafraid of boiling water.
His Excellency Saint said from a high position: “Do not let this happen again.”
His tone was indifferent, and he let the matter pass lightly.
…?
That was it?
The academy official fell silent.
What happened to the rumor of the Federation’s strictest male master, where one was responsible for lecturing and the other for being scolded? Why did it seem like His Excellency Saint was quite doting? He was even willing to drink moo-moo milk, a drink that lacked dignity, with his mate.
Was this right?
Resentment aside, facing the Councilor’s slightly unfriendly gaze, the academy official dared not delay. Bearing the strange looks of his colleagues, he brought the moo-moo milk reserved for larvae, took out two documents, pushed them in front of the two, and explained: “According to our analysis, there is only one method that is the safest and can help His Excellency Saint recover his memory to a certain extent without harming his brain domain at all.”
Noah grasped the key point: “To a certain extent?”
“Yes,” the academy official explained: “The structure of a male’s brain is too complex. Any external stimulation may cause irreversible damage to mental power. The best method is to awaken the dormant thought programs within your memory, allowing the programs to run spontaneously and search for the missing memory fragments.”
“This method is the safest, but it has a downside. Through the thought programs, we can only awaken the memories you most desire to recover at this moment.”
Noah’s eyes brightened slightly.
Awakening the memories he most desired to recover at this moment meant that the actual recovered memories would be decided by his most primitive desires in his heart right now.
This was indeed a good method.
It allowed him to recall what he needed most right now while maintaining the appearance of amnesia overall.
“Very well,” he decided immediately: “We will use this one.”
“No problem,” the academy official nodded, wrote a string of characters on his optical computer, and as if he suddenly thought of something, asked: “Do you need me to prepare a bed for you two?”
Noah: …?
He understood the logic, but why did he use the word “you two” here?
The academy official realized he had spoken out of turn and quickly added a subtle warning: “It is like this. Although our technical principle is to stimulate memory recovery through thought programs, its essence is the same as the brain receiving a large amount of information instantly. It is similar to some student larvae who choose to use the thought-surgery method to instill knowledge into their brains, which results in itching in the mental world for a period of time.”
It was what netizens often called: my head is itchy, I feel like my brain is about to grow out.
It would not be painful, but most males hated the sensation of their mental world itching. They would usually call their own mate and use the method of spiritual fusion to escape this trial.
Of course, he was just mentioning it in passing.
A mere mental itch, His Excellency Saint would surely be able to handle it with ease.
However.
Before His Excellency Saint could speak, the Councilor spoke calmly, without changing his expression: “We need one.” He even started to pick and choose on the spot: “The sheets and quilt must be soft. The bed should be as large as possible, 3×3. It is best if the position is near the window for ventilation. The room’s various facilities must be fully arranged.”
He listed a great deal before nodding with satisfaction: “Yes, just these.”
Noah: “…?”
He could not help but pinch the flesh on the other’s waist, glaring angrily.
He had not agreed yet.
If it were yesterday, Igris would probably have retreated under His Excellency Saint’s angry glare, but today he was no longer the Igris of yesterday.
Since he was scolded for everything he did, he might as well do whatever he wanted.
The Councilor raised his eyebrows and said very childishly: “But I insist.”
As he spoke, he suddenly reached out, his palm pressed firmly against the male’s metacarpal bone, and his fingertips poked the back of His Excellency Saint’s hand. He leaned in slightly, as if they were about to hold hands, but in the end, he only tapped the back of his hand. Provocatively, slowly, and teasingly, he said: “What are you prepared to do to me?”
Noah: “.”
What could he do? He did not seem to want to do much to him.
It was in these few seconds of hesitation that the Councilor unilaterally made the decision: “That is it.” He turned his head, looked at the academy official, and urged politely: “Would you be so kind?”
The academy official looked at His Excellency Saint, who had clearly fallen into the clutches of the devil, and suddenly felt the urge to call the police for the Male Protection Association.
Was this really a strictly disciplined male? Why did he feel like His Excellency Saint was the one being imprisoned and controlled by the Great Demon King, forced to act out a scene of affection?
The academy official walked away, feeling deeply worried.
Noah naturally did not know what the official was thinking.
His Excellency Saint, who did not particularly want to experience the itching symptoms caused by brain information overload, resisted symbolically for a moment before lowering his head with peace of mind.
His expression was cold, his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were a doll whose limbs had been controlled, compliant and pitiful.
The academy official in charge of the surgery felt heartbroken seeing this.
Noah did not pay attention to this.
Once bitten, twice shy.
Facing the second spiritual fusion since losing his memory, the young His Excellency Saint was no longer as resistant as the first time, and he even had a little bit of expectation.
If pheromone fusion was the male’s way of combing through the female’s mental sea, then spiritual fusion was the female’s way of soothing the male. Compared to the former, the latter was even easier and more comfortable. It only required the male and female to touch foreheads to complete. It could remove impurities from the mental sea without causing trouble or burden to a young male who had never experienced Zerg intimacy.
He felt as if he had turned into a fish, a leaf, or a wisp of breeze.
Above his head was the sky, and beneath his feet was flowing water. His body swayed and rose and fell with the waves, eventually falling into a gentle, inclusive ocean.
Feeling the warm water currents washing past his side, he spent a rare moment of ease and happiness being dazed, drifting aimlessly at the bottom of the sea for a while, and then, on a whim, he went to catch the fish of all sizes around him.
He caught one.
He caught a small fish and brought it before his eyes, just as he was about to observe it carefully. The next second, strange information appeared in his mind without warning:
[Jaden Williams, 47 years old, Company P43 employee, logical ability normal, moral judgment level lower than the same age group; impulsive, weak control ability, easily provoked, anger threshold significantly lower than the norm; interpersonal relationships show instrumental tendencies, addictive (gambling,酗酒) behaviors aggravate his risk-taking tendencies.]
Noah’s heart stirred.
He raised his hand and grabbed another one, holding it in his palm.
[Mancini Rosent, 34 years old, Academy A-level researcher.]
This is a psychological assessment.
Generally speaking, a psychological assessment covers various angles of analysis, including cognitive function, emotional state, and thought and behavior patterns. It is usually used in the preparation stage for dealing with certain specific great bugs. Just like a chess match between experts, every confident prediction is essentially an in-depth understanding and manipulation of the opponent.
What he most wanted to recover was indeed his memory regarding interpersonal relationships, but he did not expect this memory to be so detailed, precise down to almost every significant privileged individual in the Federation.
How amazing.
As expected of me.
He praised himself in his heart and prepared to catch a few more goldfish to see. He turned around and bumped into a pitch-black whale. The latter, with eyes the size of beans, stared at him for a while, and suddenly, as if it had taken a fancy to playing, rubbed against his waist. Then, it raised its big head and spat a few bubbles at him.
Such a strong sense of déjà vu.
Who could this be? It was so hard to guess.
Noah expressionlessly pinched the whale in front of him:
[Igris Orwell]
Aside from this, the entire memory partition was completely blank.
…?
Does this mean he wants him to fill it in himself? Or is this something the pre-amnesia him specifically left for the current him as, uh, homework?
How is he supposed to write this?
If nothing else, couldn’t the big Noah directly assign homework to the Councilor himself? Why did he have to make him, the middleman, do it?
The middleman was depressed.
The middleman sighed.
Little Noah writes homework for big Noah, little Noah is good. Big Noah assigns homework to little Noah, big Noah is bad.
Igris insists on giving Noah homework to do, Igris is rotten with evil.
The surgery ended.
“How is it?” the very bad Councilor asked: “Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?”
His Excellency Saint shook his head.
Having received too much information suddenly, he felt like a squirrel who had hoarded enough food for the winter. He felt satisfied with having plenty of food, yet he also felt resentful for not catching the largest and most delicious one.
Following the question of why Zergs have to work, His Excellency Saint raised another serious question: Why must Zergs do homework?
If that fails, he could at least attach a reference answer to the last page of the homework.
He sighed gloomily in his heart, but his expression remained blank: “Mr. Rosent, your surgery was very useful, thank you.” Thinking of the intelligence information that had appeared in his mind, he added: “I also wish your little male child a happy birthday, and hope he is safe and successful.”
The academy official: “!”
He was actually in the memory His Excellency Saint recovered.
Rosent was flattered and moved to tears.
The Councilor raised an eyebrow, looked at the greasy middle-aged female who was so moved he almost wanted to swear loyalty to His Excellency Saint on the spot, and then looked at His Excellency Saint, who had a calm expression.
Igris: Stare.
He remembered the memories of a random bug, but what about him?
It was impossible that he could list the data of a random bug in detail, while his own memory was completely blank.
Was this right?
Noah: “…”
He avoided the Councilor’s gaze, shifted his eyes to the side, and as if he suddenly realized something, glared back at him.
What are you looking at? You, this homework assignment, have the least right to speak.
On the starship returning home.
His Excellency Saint lowered his eyes, worrying about his blank homework.
In the past, the black-haired female would have noticed his strangeness long ago and would have at least cared enough to ask. But at this moment, the Councilor seemed to have even more resentment than the male, staring at him without blinking.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
He could not take it.
The Councilor thought coldly: Today he would overturn the heavens, play the role of a teacher for once, and force His Excellency Saint to do his homework.
He did as he thought.
He moved his fingertips, asked the Secretary General for a summary of his own information, read it once, and then added 3,000 words on his own initiative. Just as the starship was landing, he slapped the dense information onto the desk in front of His Excellency Saint and said concisely: “Memorize it!”
After thinking about it, he felt it was not safe enough.
He simply pulled the male away, sat in the chair himself, and conveniently tucked the male into his arms, trapping him between himself and the desk. He lifted his chin, his tone cold and unyielding: “Memorize it now!”
…?
Being forced to sit down suddenly, His Excellency Saint was a bit confused. When he saw the contents of the document, he remained in that position for a few seconds with a blank brain. He was dazed and subconsciously asked: “…Ah?”
The Councilor did not soften his heart and added with a fierce expression: “You must also write a reflection paper, 3… 300 words! You are not allowed to leave until you finish!”
The male looked up slightly, looking at him in confusion and a bit of helplessness.
Igris tapped his arm with his fingertips, raised his eyebrows, and stared at him.
Silence.
An indescribable silence.
Just as the Councilor’s conscience was slightly awakening, and he finally began to reflect on whether he had gone too far, the young His Excellency Saint blushed to the ears. Appearing to endure humiliation and being unwilling, he lowered his head, took out the electronic pen that came with his optical computer, and in the position of being half-nested in his arms, began to write stroke by stroke.
His eyelashes cast a shadow, covering a hidden, faint trace of happiness that even he himself had not noticed.
Igris:?
Wait a minute, why is there “happiness” here?
The Councilor fell silent.
He was sure.
Excluding all impossible options, even if the remaining possibility is absurd and unbelievable, it must be the final truth.
His male spouse likes force! (Confirmed)