Chapter 13: “Wasn’t my title correct?”
Koeyle just lowered his head, not uttering a word nor turning around, responding to He Yue with heavy breaths.
They were the only two in the broadcasting studio. All the equipment was in sleep mode, only the overhead lights were on, casting a slightly dim glow.
Cutting off the signal had almost completely eroded Koeyle’s last defenses. Already at his limit, he completely let go.
As for losing control and making a fool of himself in front of He Yue, he no longer had the energy to care.
He had clearly seen the silent words He Yue mouthed. The momentary lapse in his focus had brought about an unprecedentedly intense and strange sensation.
He couldn’t describe the bizarre feeling that one word brought him. It was clearly shame, yet it was like a jolt of electricity coursing through his body. In that instant, instinct overwhelmed his control, transcending lust and reaching his nerve endings before he could even react.
This wasn’t normal; he shouldn’t be reacting this way.
This sudden pounding of his heart, followed by an unbearable sensation like countless ants gnawing at him.
“Colonel Koeyle, still enjoying it?”
“How could…” This phrase sounded truly strange, and Koeyle’s voice lowered.
He Yue chuckled, “The colonel hasn’t touched his tie, it seems you can still bear it, not yet at your limit.”
Koeyle looked up in surprise, turning around and leaning his lower back against the table: “No, that’s not it…”
“Then why?”
“Because…” Koeyle’s mind was buzzing, lust no longer dominant. The moment he lost focus, his reason would be instantly scattered. But he still used his remaining consciousness to search for a word that might please He Yue.
He absolutely couldn’t let all his efforts go to waste.
“I hope you are, satisfied.” He finally found a phrase he was somewhat satisfied with, uttering each word deliberately.
The green light on He Yue’s remote control was still on.
“Colonel, this isn’t the limit of the remote.”
Koeyle bit his lip, his hands clasped tightly behind his back: “At your disposal, Master.”
“Is that so…” He Yue didn’t hold back.
“…Ah!”
Koeyle stumbled forward, barely managing to steady himself by grabbing the edge of the table. He could no longer control his voice, nor his tears.
But there was no one else here besides him and He Yue. His bottom line and defenses retreated again and again, and he simply stopped hiding.
He Yue wanted his embarrassment in exchange for the opportunity to touch the imprint and definitely wouldn’t show any mercy.
Realizing this, Koeyle gave up on suppressing and hiding.
He leaned against the table, unable to stand steadily.
There were no pheromones here, neither female insect nor male insect pheromones. There were only He Yue and Koeyle.
However, Koeyle felt like he was drowning in the ocean, unable to breathe even a single breath of fresh air. Instead, every breath was incredibly turbid, more suffocating than being immersed in pheromones.
Everything before his eyes blurred and swayed. He opened his mouth, trying to breathe and regain clarity, but even closing it took considerable effort.
He didn’t dare to imagine how pathetic he looked.
But the long time in front of the camera had exhausted all his willpower, and he completely abandoned all reason and succumbed to the sensations.
“Wasn’t my title correct?”
Seeing him slide down, He Yue reached out, grabbed his chin, and pulled him up.
“Colonel, do you think I’m the only one who wants to see what you look like?”
Koeyle trembled, his eyes wide with terror as he watched He Yue’s free hand reach for the external projection signal switch.
All his defenses crumbled.
“No, don’t turn on the signal, please… Master, please…” His complete surrender to the sensations was based on the premise that only He Yue could see his shame. Even if it was humiliating, it didn’t matter; he believed He Yue was here to crush his dignity underfoot. But the camera connected to all the bases was different…
“Don’t turn it on, please, I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I was wrong… Master, please…” He Yue’s fingertip rested on the signal switch.
That was his hard-earned prestige and glory, something he had always carefully protected, not allowing a single blemish. It was the brilliance accumulated through scars and pain, his last remaining pride.
“I’m sorry… I, I was wrong, please, ugh… don’t turn on the camera, please…” He looked distraught, no longer composed.
He couldn’t hold back his sobs and desperate pleas any longer, almost frantically grabbing He Yue’s arm.
“You can do anything you want… please, don’t turn on, the camera…” He was crying miserably, lacking even the courage to look at his own face on the black feedback screen.
A beep sounded, all the lights came on, and the red light on the camera blinked continuously.
The dazzling white light of the fill lights illuminated the room, and the taut string in his mind snapped, his body trembling violently.
For a moment, all he could see was the blinding white light.
Koeyle even held back his sobs, slumping downwards, only prevented from falling by He Yue’s grip on his waist. His mind was in chaos, and there was even a ringing in his ears.
He stared down at himself blankly.
The moment the lights came on, intense sensations surged through every corner of his body, transforming into throbbing emotions.
What was this…
Despair washed over him, all his senses momentarily overwhelmed.
He had let countless people see his shame.
The crying and pleading abruptly stopped, and Koeyle became terrifyingly quiet. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a collapsing cliff, looking down into the dark abyss.
The abyss had a powerful allure, urging him to jump.
“Koeyle, look up.”
He Yue’s gentle voice came from behind.
Koeyle blinked but didn’t move.
He finally realized what kind of terrifying person he had provoked…
Too cruel. Even now, did he want him to pose nicely for the camera? Was it to make his photo in tomorrow’s imperial headlines look better?
“Koeyle, you really like making me repeat myself.” He Yue said, his free hand gripping Koeyle’s chin and lifting it, forcing him to look at the feedback screen in front of him.
The feedback screen displayed a “signal interrupted” message and a mosaic of static. He Yue had turned on the switch, but hadn’t connected the disconnected data cable.
Perhaps He Yue had seen the disconnected cable from the beginning, or perhaps he had deliberately unplugged it while Koeyle was distracted.
But either way, the situation had never escaped He Yue’s control.
Koeyle breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, not caring that he was leaning against the chest of the instigator of this cruel prank. He was tired, incredibly tired, so tired that he just wanted to lean against something and fall asleep.
His physical strength seemed to be completely drained, as was his mental energy.
This devil…
Koeyle thought to himself, closing his eyes wearily and leaning against the devil’s embrace. The shoulder pads and epaulettes on his jacket made him look broad-shouldered and robust, but now, half-leaning against the slender He Yue, the size difference seemed reversed.
At this moment, he was too tired to even ask, “Did I pass the test?”
Time seemed to stand still. Koeyle’s rapid breathing calmed down, and the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of their breaths.
This moment lasted for a long time, long enough for Koeyle to be pulled back from the brink of collapse by He Yue, recovering from his panicked breakdown.
He Yue had indeed secretly unplugged the cable.
He also understood that the tool to destroy Koeyle was simply this cable connecting him to the outside world.
The higher-ups had plenty of reasons to dismiss this troublesome colonel. This female insect, whose accompanying male insect had even died, would instantly go from being a colonel to the lowest-class masterless female insect in the insect world.
However, He Yue didn’t choose to play it that way.
He needed this source of pride and glory; a fallen conquest target wasn’t interesting at all.
He enjoyed not only the 100% completion rate, but also this perhaps lengthy, but entertaining conquest game.
During this long silence, He Yue didn’t hear the system’s prompt.
(The value didn’t change?)
[No change, Host.]
Perhaps because Wien always jumped up a notch when he wasn’t doing anything, surprise flickered in He Yue’s eyes and quickly disappeared.
“Have you rested enough?” He Yue asked.
Koeyle, who had been resting quietly with his eyes closed for a long time, opened his eyes. The burning sensation on his cheeks had subsided, and the redness on his ears had faded considerably.
He regained his senses, and his mind started working again.
He didn’t turn to look at He Yue, but stared blankly at a certain spot.
His eyes still held complex emotions.
The lingering terror, the bewilderment of being pulled back from the brink of collapse, and…
A hint of resentment towards the devil’s actions.
Finally, Koeyle regained his initial purpose through calm analysis.
He blinked and smiled faintly: “Master, can I be your female insect now?” Even after experiencing such a near-breakdown, he still goal-orientedly chose to submit to the instigator.
Far more commendable than simply running away.
(…A lunatic among lunatics.)
He Yue rarely felt a sense of approval from someone’s words.
“What if I say no?”
Koeyle clenched his fists, then released them. The look in his eyes wasn’t one of dejection or disappointment.
His sunk cost was already too high, so he didn’t have the slightest thought of giving up. His acceptance threshold had been raised significantly, even holding the determination that “having come this far, nothing could break him further.”
“I will work hard until Master is satisfied.”
