The Delicate Girl Saving the Interstellar Beast World

Chapter 5: Flora's Hidden Identity

The contract, though nominally a half-slave punishment for Flora, was in reality a guise for her protection. Without it, this poor soul would have met her end either at the hands of the Huggins family or the Clarke family.

Louis nodded towards Flora. "Come on, little one." Flora gritted her teeth, standing up with difficulty, stumbling a few steps before nearly collapsing.

Just as she was about to hit the ground, a hand caught her waist in time. Flora looked up and stared into a pair of cold, transparent silver eyes. Dressed in a military uniform, with white hair and silver eyes, Troy looked like the most unfeeling angel.

Troy, as distant as a mountain perpetually covered in snow, averted his gaze and, without expression, pushed Flora into Louis's arms. "Take care of your half-slave."

Seeing Flora covered in wounds and barely able to walk, Louis sighed. Bending down, he slid a long arm under her knees and lifted her effortlessly.

Witnessing the noble sixth prince of the empire stoop to carry a half-slave, everyone’s eyes widened in shock. Despite Louis's amiable demeanor, royal pride meant keeping a distance, never letting anyone too close.

Unlike Troy’s cold touch, Louis's embrace was broad and warm, almost hot against her thin clothing. For Flora, who had spent a night and day in a cold prison, his hold felt like a personal heater, and she instinctively leaned closer.

Louis had never held anyone before, let alone a woman. Yet the tiny, soft figure in his arms made him feel like he was holding something even more delicate than a woman. Her subtle movements made his eyelashes quiver.

Trailing behind, Troy’s gaze briefly landed on Flora's pale legs dangling from Louis's hold, reminding him of the slim waist he had gripped earlier. He lowered his eyes, his usually steady hand twitching slightly.

Once aboard the aircraft, Flora quietly curled up in a corner, thankful for the soft carpet beneath her. The aircraft's interior was bright and spacious, with enormous glass windows and a transparent dome revealing the true essence of the Fifth Star.

The planet was covered in towering, opulent buildings, bustling with life. Even in daylight, vibrant, dazzling lights illuminated the skyline, reminiscent of the futuristic cyberpunk worlds from her home’s science fiction novels.

Spaceships frequently zipped by, and there were signs of advanced technology and civilization everywhere she looked. On the streets, she saw beastmen fighting, their massive forms clashing, while others, though humanoid, were distinctly different, with colorful hair and eyes, robust and fierce.

Watching these wild beastmen, Flora felt the weight of her mission grow heavier.

"Fortune, what are the traits of the Apocalypse Bringer?" Fortune was the name Flora had given her unreliable guardian spirit, whose dependability was as fickle as luck. After a long pause, Fortune answered, "The Apocalypse Bringer is a powerful male who despises females and seeks to overthrow the current order."

Flora was baffled. "With so many strong beastmen in this world, I can't possibly verify each one. Doesn't he have any unique physical traits?"

Fortune hesitated. "You might have to check each one, but don't worry. I'll provide you with a list of all the top suspects!"

The aircraft eventually landed in front of a luxurious villa. Originally meant for male-female pairings, this estate now belonged to the three males after Jenny Clarke’s death. They wouldn’t relinquish it until they matched with another female.

Flora expected to be housed in a dark basement or a cramped attic due to her half-slave status. But instead, they gave her a cozy room. The estate was staffed with specialized robots, eliminating the need for servants or caretakers.

The three men were busier than she had imagined. After briefly explaining the rules she needed to follow, they left her to her own devices. Exhausted, Flora ate a little and collapsed into bed.

She slept until late at night, waking drenched in sweat, haunted by nightmares of red eyes watching her from the darkness. She wondered if the Zerg from that night had been captured.

Logically, she shouldn’t have escaped, considering her condition. Perhaps the Zerg had already fed. But if he had, why did he continue watching her? Flora dared not delve deeper into these thoughts.

While bathing, Fortune returned excitedly. "Master, I’ve prepared the list! Are you ready?"

Flora blinked, puzzled. "It’s just a list. What’s there to prepare for?"

Despite her thoughts, she followed Fortune’s instructions.

Suddenly, Flora felt bombarded by a heap of books.

Thud.

She couldn’t catch the heavy book, the list, and it fell into the water. Hastily fishing out a page, she found it seemingly endless. Her temples throbbed.

Staring at the drenched, densely packed names, Flora’s smile froze.

Fortune could have given her a copy of the interstellar population registry, but instead, she chose a dictionary-thick selection...

After her bath, Flora noticed the skin chafed by her shackles was redder and more painful. She went to find some ointment, leaving her room.

The darkened living room was unusually quiet. Unlike the beastmen, Flora lacked acute night vision. Unable to find the light switch, she could only see faint outlines in the dark. Calling out for the robots, she received no response.

Assuming she was alone, Flora wore only a nightgown. Her hair was half-wet, and she hadn't dried the water droplets on her skin. This enticing sight in the darkness didn't escape Dalton, whose night vision was as sharp as a black mamba’s.

Dalton was there because another experiment had failed, and in his frustration, he had gone to the living room to rest. Hearing a slight noise, he opened his eyes and couldn’t look away from the scene before him.

The nightgown, meant for a slender woman, hung loosely on the genderless Flora. Fresh from her bath, she stood in oversized slippers, her exposed skin a delicate pink from the heat.

Nostrils flaring slightly, Dalton caught a faint, unfamiliar scent that had only appeared since Flora’s arrival. Swallowing hard, he commanded, “Come here.”

The sudden, deep voice startled Flora. “Who’s there?”

Dalton snapped his fingers, and the room lit up. Flora saw him on the sofa, no longer in his restrictive lab coat, but in a black shirt with a few buttons undone, revealing his pale collarbone. Dalton lounged lazily, his shirt tucked into tailored trousers, his gaze fixed on her with an amused smile.

Flora felt her scalp tingle under his scrutiny, unsure how long he’d been watching.

Seeing her hesitation, Dalton’s eyes narrowed. "What’s wrong? Not following your master’s orders?"

Flora hadn’t expected Dalton to be in the living room at that hour. Taking a deep breath, she reluctantly moved closer, the sweet scent in the air growing stronger.

As she approached, Dalton’s pupils narrowed. How could a genderless person have the Placate Pheromone? He grabbed her wrist, pulling her between his legs, causing her to fall onto the carpet. Now kneeling between his legs, Flora felt humiliated.

Before she could stand, Dalton leaned in, his handsome face moving to her neck as if to sniff her. Her damp golden hair fell behind her, a few strands wrapping around her slender neck.

Like a graceful swan entwined by a cold serpent, Dalton’s breath on her neck sent shivers through Flora. Despite the intimate scene, she felt only fear.