A Peculiar Illness

“The higher-ups never told us your exact origins,” Bai Tian said, settling onto a chair beside Zhuo. “But you never cared about your birth parents before. Why are you suddenly dwelling on it now?”

Before Zhuo could even respond, Bai Tian leaned in closer. “Is it because of the Savior?”

“Your relationship with Mr. Yuan is truly excellent.” Bai Tian, assuming they had merely had a lovers’ spat, felt it necessary to offer advice as a married man who had ‘been there.’ “Sometimes, small disagreements are blown out of proportion purely by our own overthinking.”

“However, if things are taken too far, they might genuinely become irreparable,” Bai Tian sighed, his single eye clouding with a touch of sentimentality. “The Savior undoubtedly cares deeply about you.”

Zhuo didn’t understand human nuance, so he could only relay the conversation to Yuan Anqing inside his domain. “Why is Bai Tian speaking in such a peculiar tone?”

“He’s probably worried we might break up,” Yuan Anqing replied, his voice echoing in the void. The authorities had likely considered ‘civilizing’ Zhuo before, but the monster had always refused to cooperate. Now that they could finally communicate with him through the Savior, they were terrified he might revert to his old, city-destroying ways.

Zhuo was perplexed. “Break up? Why do they all think we’re dating?”

“Because you’ve been acting like a teenager in his first relationship,” Yuan Anqing replied, completely unperturbed by the outside world’s speculation.

“Really?” Zhuo was genuinely oblivious.

Just then, Bai Tian’s phone rang again. He glanced at the screen, then his single eye widened. “Oh! Your theory was right. Your parents really were Saviors!”

Bai Tian was genuinely shocked; the official records he had access to stated the first wave of Saviors had died prematurely during deployment.

“Wait—Saviors can undergo inferior differentiation?!” Zhuo’s voice grew sharp with anxiety.

“Yes. But according to the Director, only Saviors who suffer an unnatural death will undergo differentiation.” Bai Tian handed his phone to Zhuo, letting him see the encrypted file. “You don’t need to worry. As long as Mr. Yuan is alive and healthy, he won’t mutate.”

“Unnatural death leads to mutation…” Zhuo meticulously scrolled through the file. “Isn’t death supposed to be the end? What exactly is a Savior?”

Bai Tian shook his head. “I have no idea. The higher-ups keep the metaphysical details classified.”

“Unnatural death leads to a monster… but what happens if a Savior dies naturally? Of old age?” Zhuo pressed.

Bai Tian shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. We’ve never encountered a Savior who lived long enough to die of natural causes.”

“Then why did they hide the mutation part?” Zhuo’s brow furrowed. “You told me they died in deployment errors.”

Bai Tian looked away, uncomfortable. “The records for the first four Saviors still list them as ‘failed deployments.’ As for why they didn’t tell you… Zhuo, you never bothered to ask about your parents before. You usually just tried to eat anyone who mentioned them.”

Zhuo fell silent.

Bai Tian then coughed awkwardly. “So… can you please release Mr. Yuan now?”

“I’ll release him when I get home!” Zhuo stood up abruptly, his mood soured. After taking a few steps toward the door, he felt like he was leaving empty-handed, so he turned back and swiped every single bottle of soda from Bai Tian’s mini-fridge.

Bai Tian: “…”

Soon after Zhuo stormed out, a colleague entered the office. “What happened? Why did Zhuo leave in such a huff?”

“He probably had an argument with the Savior,” Bai Tian sighed. “I hope Mr. Yuan isn’t too hard on him. Zhuo is… sensitive.”

“What did they argue about? Did the Savior neglect him?” The colleague sat down. “You can tell Zhuo is obsessed with the man, but I can’t read the Savior at all. He’s like a brick wall.”

“Who knows? For all we know, the Savior is just putting on an act to keep the beast tamed,” Bai Tian said, returning to his computer.

“Yuan Anqing? Putting on an act?” The colleague laughed. “The man is too tired to fake a smile, let alone a relationship.”

“True.” Bai Tian rubbed his temples. “I’m still reeling from the news. Zhuo is the offspring of two mutated Saviors… We still know so little about his biology.”

“And we never will,” the colleague added. “He only looks at us with anything other than contempt when we’re holding a lunch tray.”

Back at the apartment, Zhuo was in a daze. “So I was born from Saviors…” he muttered, having finally released Yuan Anqing from his internal domain.

“And they didn’t taste good,” Yuan Anqing noted, piling up the empty drink bottles Zhuo had stolen.

“The Father-Body and the Mother-Body,” Zhuo corrected him. He didn’t consider them parents; Saviors who underwent inferior differentiation lost their personalities and became primal entities of desire.

As Zhuo spoke, he let out a massive, bone-deep yawn. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before; the adrenaline of “swallowing” a living being for the first time—especially his only friend—had kept his heart racing. He had been terrified that if he fell asleep, his unconscious instincts might accidentally start the digestion process.

Even if the contract ring would have mirrored the pain back to him, the fear of losing Yuan Anqing had been stronger than the fear of pain. Now that Yuan was out and safe, the exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave.

“You should rest,” Yuan Anqing said, seeing the monster’s drooping eyelids. “I’ll wake you for lunch.”

“Aren’t we cooking together?” Zhuo blinked, trying to keep his eyes open.

“No. Go sleep. My cooking isn’t as good as yours, but it’s edible.” Yuan Anqing gently nudged Zhuo toward the bedroom.

“I would never dislike your cooking,” Zhuo mumbled instinctively.

“I know. Now go.”

Once Zhuo collapsed onto the bed, Yuan Anqing took a damp towel and meticulously cleaned the monster’s tail. Zhuo watched him with glazed eyes, his mind already drifting into a hazy fever.

“Yuan Anqing…” Zhuo started to ask. “Do you…?”

But before he could finish the question, he was out.

Yuan Anqing stood by the bed for a moment, reaching out to stroke one of the crystalline horns. Zhuo was in a profound, heavy sleep. “How are you supposed to be a world-ending monster?” Yuan Anqing sighed. He retrieved his glasses, which had been tucked safely in Zhuo’s pocket, and slid them back onto his nose.

Zhuo dreamt of his originals.

The Father-Body and the Mother-Body knelt before him. Though they were his progenitors, in the dream, they resembled groveling slaves serving a dark master. Zhuo sat on a cold, jagged throne, shifting uncomfortably.

“You must not eat him,” a distorted voice hissed.

Eat whom? Yuan Anqing?

“You must not eat him!” The voice grew deeper, warping into a guttural roar.

Zhuo frowned in the dream. “Are you trying to threaten me? Get lost!”

“You must not eat him,” the voice repeated, a broken record of static.

“Where is Yuan Anqing?!” Zhuo shouted into the void.

After a long, suffocating silence, the Mother-Body—a mass of white, shifting fur—responded. “He went away. To get married.”

What? Married?!

“Why do you care so much, little monster?” the entity asked, its head tilting at an impossible angle. “He has seen the beauty of the human world now. It is only a matter of time before he develops feelings for his own kind.”

“Why are you reacting so strongly? Are you learning to have ‘feelings’ like a human?”

Zhuo jolted awake, his muscles spasming so violently he rolled right off the bed and hit the floor. THUD. “Ow!”

“Zhuo!” Yuan Anqing rushed into the room. “What happened?”

“I don’t know…” Zhuo struggled to push himself up, but his arms felt like lead. “I feel… strange.”

“Why did you fall?” Yuan Anqing helped him up. The moment his hand touched Zhuo’s skin, he winced. “You’re burning up. You’re scorching hot.”

“I feel weak,” Zhuo whispered, leaning his heavy weight against Yuan Anqing.

“Weak?” Yuan Anqing was shocked. “Is it a fever? A cold?”

Zhuo shook his head. “I don’t get human illnesses. This is something else.”

Yuan Anqing cupped Zhuo’s face. The monster’s skin was hot enough to sear. Zhuo’s eyes were glassy and unfocused.

“I’m texting Bai Tian,” Yuan Anqing said, trying to maneuver the massive man back onto the mattress. Zhuo went limp, and Yuan Anqing realized he physically couldn’t lift two hundred pounds of monster on his own.

“No,” Zhuo groaned, grabbing Yuan’s wrist. “I don’t want to see them. They won’t understand… I’ve never felt like this before.”

“You were fine ten minutes ago. How did you crash this fast?” Yuan Anqing gritted his teeth and, using every ounce of his “Savior” physical buff, managed to haul Zhuo onto the bed. He exhaled a heavy breath. “Is anything else hurting?”

“No.” Zhuo stared up at him. “Will you get married? To a human?”

“How could I get married?” Yuan Anqing placed a cool hand on Zhuo’s forehead. “I don’t even know if I’ll be alive next week. Why would I drag a spouse into this nightmare?”

“What if you don’t die? What if you stay?”

“Even then, I won’t,” Yuan Anqing said casually. “I don’t have the capacity to love anyone like that.”

Satisfied by the answer, Zhuo’s tension bled away. Yuan Anqing left the room, retrieved a bag of frozen popsicles from the freezer, and returned to place them on Zhuo’s forehead as a makeshift ice pack.

He still sent a message to Bai Tian. Even if Zhuo didn’t want them there, the authorities were the only ones with biological data on his species.

Bai Tian responded almost instantly: [We have no record of Zhuo ever being sick. His biology is highly resistant. We’re sending a medical drone and a specialist to the door.]

Yuan Anqing looked at Zhuo. “They’re sending someone.”

“I don’t want them here!” Zhuo hissed, clutching the blanket. “They’re useless deadweights!”

“Zhuo, stop being a child. You’re sick.”

Zhuo’s tail snaked out from under the covers and coiled weakly around Yuan Anqing’s waist, pulling him closer to the bed.

“It’s fine… as long as you’re the one here,” Zhuo whispered, his voice sounding uncharacteristically small and spoiled.

Yuan Anqing sighed but sat down on the edge of the bed. “If you get worse, I’m calling them in regardless of your tantrums.”

“I won’t get worse.” Zhuo recalled the dream. “I swallowed you… and then I let you go. My biology… it thinks I lost my meal. This is the first time I’ve ever released something alive.”

“So it’s a psychosomatic reaction to releasing ‘prey’?” Yuan Anqing felt a wave of relief. At least it wasn’t a fatal virus.

“Perhaps,” Zhuo said, hiding his true fear. He suspected it wasn’t just the release of prey. He suspected he had actually developed an attachment. But he couldn’t tell Yuan Anqing that. If the Savior knew the monster was truly vulnerable to him, would he pull away?

“Zhuo, your eyes are getting red again,” Yuan Anqing noted, concerned.

“It’s just the fever,” Zhuo lied. But the more he looked at Yuan Anqing, the more he felt a crushing sense of dread. He felt his future was a narrow path, and he was terrified of the end of it.