SGT CH24: Milky White

◎After glimpsing that bit of milky white, his brain went “boom”◎

Male master…

Hearing the title from the Prince’s lips, Aix’s heart fluttered softly. He and the Prince both knew very well what had brought about their marriage. Aix was well aware of his status and situation—he never overstepped; he didn’t truly see himself as the Prince’s female consort. Of course, he never thought of the Prince as his “male master” either.

But now, the Prince wanted him to use this word.

Aix couldn’t understand what the Prince was getting at and could only tentatively ask, “Is this your order?”

“Yes, my order.”

For some reason, Mousse was a bit annoyed and, silently venting, pinched Aix’s chest, leaving a finger indent. Though, with the self-healing ability of an S-class female, the mark was gone as soon as it appeared.

“In accordance with your command, Your Highness, male… master…”

Calling him male master—it should have been no different from ‘Your Highness,’ ‘Prince,’ or ‘Commander.’ Yet, in trying to actually say it, Aix found it wasn’t so easy.

The word “male master” carried too much weight.

It was a term for a Zerg who would forever be tied to your name, for the male Zerg to spend a life with, for the Zerg a female was to protect for the rest of their days.

It was a bond, a mate, a responsibility.

Even Aix—who’d never thought about marrying a male—felt the title was too particular, too heavy.

And as he called it out, a thousand feelings swept through his chest, which now felt sore and heavy.

He raised a hand to press his chest, trying to tamp down the confusing feelings.

Mousse rather liked hearing Aix call him that.

Male master and female consort—a relationship bound by law and morals, a connection that could never break.

It was much closer than “Your Highness” or “Lieutenant General.”

His mood lightened. Seeing Aix’s movement, he even asked with rare concern,

“What’s wrong? Not feeling well?”

“No, just kind of sore and full.”

Aix honestly didn’t know what those mixed-up feelings in his chest even were.

Mousse prodded at him in confusion.

Full?

A thought occurred, and stiffly, he asked:

“Are you lactating?”

“…P-probably not.”

Aix was mortified, his face burning red with heat. He wanted to brush away the Prince’s hand on him but was afraid the moody Prince would get angry, so he stayed frozen.

Mousse was the one to move back, playing with his fingertips and taking a step. His gaze still snuck across Aix’s chest, peeking again and again. Finally, awkwardly, he said:

“If you need anything, let me know. I can help… get it out.”

“It’s only to keep you from making a scene at the banquet, shaming the Prince’s household and the royal family.”

He tacked this on, as if to sound natural, then almost ran away carrying the gown that needed altering.

Aix was left flustered, unable to explain, but fortunately, nothing happened up to the day of the Prince’s coming-of-age ceremony that needed the Prince to help “get it out.”

Before departing, Mousse took a sniff at Aix, and not catching any special scent, felt a bit disappointed.

Still, Aix smelled like him—like his comforter, his pillow, his pajamas, or some other intimately private thing.

It made a Zerg feel happy and safe.

He leaned in to smell again.

Mousse buried his face in Aix’s neck, rubbing in close.

The tips of Aix’s ears went red. He loosely held the Prince, not daring to use strength, and of course not daring to push him away.

His gaze strayed to the door—sensing the guards waiting outside, Aix’s expression wavered.

Even though there was a wall, with an S-class female’s perception, the movements of the guards outside were crystal clear.

Aix lowered his voice:

“Your Highness, it’s time to go.”

“What did you call me?”

Mousse immediately looked up.

“…Male master.” Aix gave in.

“Get used to it.”

Mousse tugged Aix by the collar. “At least today, there can’t be any mistakes.”

“Yes.” Aix replied, eyes down, gaze falling to his understated yet opulent black-and-gold gown.

This was indeed an important day—not just for the Prince, but for his own Zerg egg.

The first time attending a major event as the Prince’s female consort.

It was also when the Zerg egg in his belly would be revealed to the public.

No matter what his relationship with the Prince was, or if ‘female consort’ was just an empty title, after today, all of the Empire would know this was the child of the Prince and his consort—the Prince’s eldest son.

With this status, even if the Prince did not love this child, he could grow up safely.

Aix didn’t want much—just for his Zerg cub to safely come into the world and grow up healthy.

As for the Prince…

That was never something he dared hope for.

On the aircraft, Mousse set the destination to the Imperial Palace, turning on autopilot.

His ship had been refitted with spatial-expansion tech: it looked ordinary outside, but inside, there were two spacious rooms.

Outside: a lounge with sofas and tables.

Inside: living quarters, complete with bed and bath.

Aix sat on the sofa, glancing about—suddenly, the layout struck him as familiar.

From… the Prince’s awakening day…

After setting the autopilot, Mousse glanced up to see Aix on the opposite sofa, his posture stiff.

Seeing Aix’s evasive gaze and the layout, Mousse immediately understood.

“That’s not the aircraft from that day.”

He just liked layouts like this—several of his aircraft were set up this way.

Meeting Aix’s eyes, Mousse added lightly:

“That one, I already destroyed.”

Aix did not know how to respond and simply sat listening.

Until the Prince said:

“But—I kept a copy of its internal video.”

Aix looked at Mousse in astonishment.

Mousse gave a sardonic, mocking smile, and asked:

“Do you want to see it?”

“No…” Aix loathed the idea.

Since the Prince freed him from the punishment room and shared his pheromones, Aix had buried the past deep away.

Even when the Prince allowed him back to the military and gave him more freedom, he never investigated that night.

He would never be a threat to the Prince. The Prince didn’t need to constantly test him.

“Good. I don’t want to see it either.”

Mousse rested his head on his hand, half-listening, half distracted.

That night—he should never have meddled, never taken that Zerg from the party.

He shouldn’t have paused, seeing the pained, aroused look, or gotten involved after being clung to and begged.

He especially shouldn’t have let the female’s pheromones trigger his own awakening.

He knew full well how untrustworthy that Zerg was, yet still used himself as a cure.

So he was hurt again; abandoned, wounded.

Even now, he felt a fresh stab of pain in his chest.

Pressing his hand to his heart, he shot Aix a cold look.

He wasn’t the type to suffer alone. If someone made him suffer, he’d make them hurt twice as much.

“Your Highness, do you need…”

Aix watched the Prince press his own chest, his eyes full of concern.

“I need you to get over here.” Mousse snapped.

Aix could feel the ill will in his tone.

Familiar scenes tended to stir memory—

That day hadn’t been pleasant for the Prince either, and Aix’s resistance upon waking almost cost the Prince his life.

It made sense he’d be unhappy remembering.

Aix stood and walked over, kneeling before the Prince under that cold gaze.

It was as if the cloak of pheromone-borne tenderness had been ripped away by icy reality.

Aix’s numb heart felt a twinge of pain.

He didn’t regret his resistance that night.

Still, seeing the Prince, pale and clutching his chest, Aix wondered if he could have resisted another way.

Even if he’d gone to gather evidence and sued the Prince, the Prince wouldn’t have lost much.

But it would have been better than suffering like this.

Mousse sat still, spiritual threads binding Aix’s body.

For a female Zerg with spiritual damage and exhaustion, even the lightest mental touch from a male brought pain, need, and uncontrollable pleasure.

Aix dug his fingertips hard into his palm, desperately fighting the shivers.

Mousse wanted to hurt Aix, make him feel the same pain he did.

But when the scent of his own pheromone on Aix’s body reached his senses, he unconsciously loosened his grip.

His instincts told him: This was his female, his and his alone.

He ought to be nice.

The spiritual threads retracted.

Aix slumped by the Prince’s knee, nearly soaked through.

After a moment, Mousse broke the silence:

“Soon we’ll be at the palace, meeting His Majesty and the Marshal. You know what to say and what to leave unsaid.”

“…Understood.”

Aix straightened up, back straight as a rod.

Apart from his hoarse voice and his clothes soaked with pheromone, nothing gave away what had happened.

“Don’t say a single word about what happened on my awakening night.”

Mousse’s gaze darkened.

“If you do—I can’t protect you.”

Aix glanced up at the Prince, and replied, “Yes.”

Mousse looked at the female kneeling at his knee, wanting to pat his head, wanting to hug him, but in the end, all he said was:

“Go inside and change your clothes.”

After Aix left for the other room, Mousse looked down at the now-dark carpet.

Aix’s mental state was far too poor.

Normally, a female Zerg wouldn’t be so sensitive to a male’s mental threads.

Without treatment, how much longer could Aix hold on?

Three years? Five?

Even less?

When that day came, could he bear to be abandoned again?

He was still musing when the ship’s system announced it was about to make a spatial jump into Imperial Star.

This upgraded ship could rival a top-tier mech or warship, outfitted with a jump drive for interstellar hops.

They’d be at the capital in just a few minutes.

But Aix still hadn’t come out—

Did it take that long to change clothes?

Mousse went to the bedroom:

“What are you dawdling for?” He opened the door and stepped in.

Aix, shirt open, turned his head in surprise.

Mousse’s gaze automatically lowered to the female’s chest.

A glimpse—milky white—and his mind exploded.

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