Spend it, spend it, fearless. Money is earned to be spent, and accumulating compatibility points is meant to be used. The tasks that need to be done must still be done.
Carlos prided himself on being thick-skinned and stubborn, impervious to scalding water.
There was another match scheduled for the afternoon. If he allowed the female insect to compete injured, that would be too inhuman—no, too insect-unfriendly. At least he should apply some healing medicine to the female insect.
He held a treatment band that combined the functions of a bandage and iodine, but with a faint herbal scent that made it more pleasant.
Of course, the insect race also had more advanced and efficient healing agents. After lying in one for an hour or two, superficial flesh wounds could basically be repaired. However, such treatment was clearly not available to insect slaves in the arena.
“Lower your head and lift your hair.”
Upon hearing this, the female insect’s body stiffened noticeably. Zelan had no room to refuse now. Her long hair was gently lifted, revealing her snow-white neck to Carlos.
This was also the first time Carlos had observed the female insect’s neck closely. Previously, she had either been hanging or both insects were covered in foam in the bathroom, chaotic and without opportunity.
Below the neck collar, the female insect had a faint pink insect marking, mostly obscured by the collar, further covered by mottled rope marks and wounds. Without careful observation, it was hardly noticeable. Beside the insect marking was the code branded onto insect slaves upon entering Sweet Home—2757. The black-green code etched onto the female insect’s snow-white skin appeared particularly glaring.
Insect markings were not unfamiliar to Carlos; they were a symbol every female insect possessed. He also had one on his neck, though it was a counterfeit sticker.
Carlos wrapped the bandage around several times, deliberately avoiding the black neck collar, slowly encircling the female insect’s neck.
By this point, though severely injured, Zelan’s mind remained clear. She could clearly see what was happening—the overseer insect was bandaging her.
The long bandage fluttered before Zelan’s eyes, making the overseer insect’s fingers appear exceptionally slender.
Those hands should have been used to wield punishment whips and butcher knives.
“Does it hurt?” the overseer insect repeated.
The accumulated fatigue over many days had stretched Zelan’s nerves to their limit. The overseer insect’s hands now seemed not to be applying bandages but weaving a sugary trap that could disarm and bewilder insects, one that would lead to eternal damnation upon falling.
No insect had ever asked her that.
Zelan had long grown accustomed to pain.
During her youth, as a military female insect reserve, she endured daily training. Broken wings that regrew became sharper, and blood-soaked combat experience became more solid. Injuries were commonplace for her.
Even after all that, upon arriving at Sweet Home, the previous overseer insects had employed numerous methods. Physical pain became too frequent; the splatter of blood and tearing of wounds seemed as normal as breathing.
Now, in such circumstances, such words came from an overseer insect’s mouth.
It was utterly absurd.
Zelan simply turned her head away, silent, with no intention of responding to the overseer insect.
Carlos: Fine, I’ve already grown accustomed to talking to an ice block.
“Whether it hurts or not, it’s what you, as an insect slave, deserve.”
[Host identity compatibility increased by 1%.]
As soon Carlos finished speaking, he heard the system’s real-time announcement. Indeed, the system’s OOC (out-of-character) detection was never very intelligent—mission accomplished.
Yet these words made Zelan almost want to laugh.
Caught in the whirlpool of fame and fortune, he had seen those who spoke sweetly to insects and deceitfully to ghosts. He had also witnessed many insects dressed as beasts in fine clothing, uttering the most elegant lyrical phrases while committing the filthiest acts beneath.
The disciplinary officer’s lips carried harsh and venomous words, yet the bandaging motions were not maliciously intensified, nor were any perverse potions poured onto the wounds. It was simply healing, even with gentler hand movements.
The waiting room differed from the prison cell he had been in before—sunlight could stream through the glass window.
Zelan faced the window directly, the bright, insect-reflecting glass allowing him to clearly see the disciplinary officer behind him.
Golden light spots sprinkled on the disciplinary officer’s hands, even his eyelashes were draped in a hazy golden veil.
Just like the pitch-black base color in the disciplinary officer’s eyes, whether it was pure black or a mixture of seven colors forming the inner essence, Zelan could only reach out and touch a patch of warmth, pierce a layer of light—its true substance remained unfathomable.
Zelan could feel his wings still held hope for recovery. He wanted to ask the disciplinary officer why he did this, yet felt it might be presumptuous. The words at his lips immediately veered off course.
“Why did you become a disciplinary officer?”
Why become a disciplinary officer? Carlos was stunned by Zelan’s question. What else could it be?
Because he was the unlucky one chosen by the system. Other insects scrounged for food or hid in black markets to evade pursuit—if not disciplinary officers, they could do other jobs.
But he was different. He had long lost his life and now could only complete tasks. If he didn’t become a disciplinary officer, he’d ascend directly. He drifted with the system, fate thin, his mouth the hardest part of him—utterly helpless.
Carlos inwardly cursed this damn anti-human, anti-insect task.
Who knew the system would always pick the right moment to stab him, adding, 【Host, being able to transmigrate into books and complete tasks is truly a benefit.】
Would you want this benefit? Carlos kept pondering: since this system claimed to be intelligent, why didn’t the main transmigration system let the system itself transmigrate and complete tasks?
“Don’t ask what shouldn’t be asked.” Thinking this, Carlos didn’t even notice a self-mocking bitter smile had already curled on his lips.
Yet this bitter smile appeared entirely different in Zelan’s eyes.
The disciplinary officer before him wore a mature shirt paired with trousers, gray-black clothing perfectly encasing him in a hard shell adept at disguise.
But scrutinizing his appearance, Zelan could determine the disciplinary officer was likely younger than him. An age that should be spent studying in school or sweating passionately on training grounds, not staying in the Sweet Home dealing with bloody filth.
Now the disciplinary officer helped him, perhaps out of lingering pity among his own kind. Yet he understood clearly: before personal interests and survival, no insect would compromise, and he never hoped for any insect’s excessive kindness.
In this great mud pit, the disciplinary officer would sooner or later become like the insects around him.
“Rip—”
The force from his chest recalled Zelan’s thoughts.
At this moment, Carlos was nearly done with the makeshift bandaging, but the interstellar special bandage was more troublesome than he had imagined. Its slippery texture made tying knots difficult, and after several attempts, he still couldn’t secure the bandage tightly over the female insect’s chest.
Carlos was determined to conquer this knot, disregarding everything else. To find a better grip for tying the bandage, his hands acted impulsively, leaving reason behind.
“Wait…” Zelan couldn’t even finish a complete sentence.
Carlos’s hands were already pressed against the female insect’s chest.
So soft.
That was the only thought in Carlos’s mind now, even his knotting movements stiffened.
The female insect had endured torture, starvation, and various inhuman abuses over these days, which should have drained an insect’s flesh and energy from inside out. Only a military female insect’s body could withstand such depletion, and now there were still firm muscles beneath.
The skin beneath his palm fit perfectly, feeling soft and exceptionally smooth, the sensation was simply extraordinary.
Startled by this touch, Carlos realized how intrusive his actions were and quickly moved his hands away, wanting to finish tying the knot quickly.
“It’ll be done soon; I’ll secure this damn thing right away.”
In his panic, his wrist slipped, and his hand accidentally skidded abruptly.
Carlos only felt like he brushed against something, but he was focused solely on tying the knot, everything else forgotten.
“Wait! Don’t… don’t tie it yet, hold on!”
Zelan barely squeezed out a few words from between his teeth. The abnormality at the tip of his chest nearly made him dizzy, the sudden tingling sensation there was too abrupt. He felt as if some honey-like thick liquid had suddenly poured into his brain, stirring chaotically, completely disrupting his thoughts.
Since the first day he entered Sweet Home, Zelan knew the nutrient injections administered daily into his body were unusual, all enhanced with additives. After several consecutive injections, the pain sensations had amplified several times, making old and new wounds even more unbearable.
At that time, the sound of electric currents would be infinitely magnified, and the scent of blood at the nose would become more intense. But today, he realized this medication was even more unbearable than he had imagined.
The female insect’s startled cry made Carlos pause, and upon careful listening, there was even a barely detectable slight gasp.
Looking closely, he finally realized what he had brushed against, and the atmosphere between the two insects became awkward and strange to an extreme.
Under Carlos’s inadvertent movements, his head was extremely close to the female insect’s chest and neck, each breath exhaled hot air flowing over the female insect’s skin.
Their breaths even blended together sticky and indistinct, completely indistinguishable, and the surrounding air gradually warmed up.
“What are you two doing here?”
With a clang, the door of the waiting room was opened from outside, startling Carlos into quickly dropping the bandage.
The insect outside was the medical insect Ethan.
“So, did I interrupt you?”
Ethan walked in carrying a medical kit, scanning the entire room only to find Carlos and Zelan. He pointed at himself somewhat puzzled, using his eyes to ask Carlos what was happening.
Carlos: “As you can see.”
Bandaging? Wow, was it the insect god resurrecting and manifesting? Or the planet reversing? Or did he take wrong medicine and his eyes went blind? How could a disciplinary insect be here bandaging wounds for an insect slave?
“Hey, not to be rude, but that’s exactly the problem. Why did I see a disciplinary officer bandaging a slave?”
Carlos was suddenly put on the spot. “If I didn’t bandage him, he’d just embarrass himself in the afternoon match.”
“So… you did the job. What am I supposed to do?” Ethan pointed helplessly at the medical kit in his hand, momentarily at a loss for words.
Worry clouds judgment. Carlos had long sensed something odd—why were there medical supplies in the waiting room but no one else around? Even the stingy Sweet Home wouldn’t cut corners to this extent. Turns out, it was Ethan who had been negligent and arrived late.
“And, I’d like to point out, this healing strip isn’t meant to be used like that.”
How else could a bandage be used?
Ethan saw the confusion in Carlos’s eyes and glanced at the tangled mess of knots in the disciplinary officer’s hands. He felt his professional integrity as a medic was about to explode.
“Pull it like this,” the medic said, gently connecting the strips. In no time, the healing strip seamlessly joined together—secure, reliable, and hassle-free. “And that’s it.”
Carlos, who had struggled with knots for ages, and Zelan, who had suffered greatly: “…”
“There’s not much time left before the afternoon match,” Carlos said, standing up and pretending nothing had happened as he slipped toward the door. “I’ll leave this slave with you for now.”
“Huh?” Ethan tried to say something, but Carlos had already shut the door and vanished.
Leaving a slave with the medic during the intermission was perfectly normal, and Ethan fully understood Carlos’s reasoning. But why did he run off so quickly? It was practically a hasty retreat.
Ethan scratched his head, utterly baffled by the whole situation.
[Host, why did you run off so fast again? Is there something urgent you need to do?]
“Wait, don’t say anything just yet.”
Carlos couldn’t believe he had wasted so much effort on such an unnecessary blunder. Right now, he just wanted some peace and quiet.
But as for the afternoon match, there was only a two-hour break between sessions. Usually, no one was allowed to compete consecutively. Zelan was clearly an exception, singled out for special treatment.
A male insect simply wouldn’t have the stamina to endure the afternoon match.
Take the laxative trick he used in the morning, for example. It was unlikely to work a second time. Once Bowe was hospitalized, it wouldn’t be hard to trace the cause. Both the remaining competitors and Sweet Home, as the organizers, would be more cautious moving forward.
[So, are we just going to wait here until the afternoon match starts?] the system asked hesitantly.
“Of course not. I need to change clothes first.”
[Change clothes?] The spherical system spun in the air, puzzled. [Are you going to disguise yourself as ‘Kayo Jin’ again?]
“‘Kayo Jin’ can’t show his face in public after getting that money. Know when to quit—he’s a walking target now.”
“I might even need to remove some of my disguise.”
[Remove your disguise? Wouldn’t that be even more dangerous?]
Carlos looked at the bewildered system and decided to keep it guessing.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
The sun shifted westward.
The afternoon session at the arena was about to begin, and spectators were once again streaming through the gates.
However, one figure among the swarm of insects stood out conspicuously—a cloaked insect draped entirely in black.
The black-cloaked insect wore a hood, its body completely shrouded, and even its face was concealed behind a silver mask, leaving nothing visible.
“Excuse me, this is the entrance for contestants. The seating area for spectators is over there,” a nearby attendant insect stopped the cloaked figure and gestured in another direction.
To their surprise, the black-cloaked insect let out a soft chuckle, its voice low and steady.
“I haven’t made a mistake. I am here to compete.”