The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis let out a contented sigh, leaning back against the cool stone of the cavern wall. His body still ached, but the pain was dulled by the lingering warmth of the meal—or, more specifically, the way it had been delivered. Cerys had shown an uncharacteristic boldness, feeding him with a mix of care and playful daring that had grown each day. It had started with simple spoonfuls, her hand steady and precise, her movements efficient and almost indifferent. Yet, as time passed, those moments had shifted—her hand would linger just a fraction longer, her touch softer, her gaze betraying a hint of hesitation that spoke volumes. And then there were the times she leaned closer, her lips meeting his to pass a bite, the unexpected intimacy sending his heart racing.

Each interaction left him in a whirlwind of emotions—amused, flustered, and increasingly aware of her proximity. He wasn't sure if she did it on purpose, testing his reactions, or if she herself was caught in the strange, unspoken tension that hung between them. The mix of care and daring in her actions was as perplexing as it was endearing. He tried to brush it off, to rationalize it as nothing more than practicality or perhaps an extension of her duty, but the soft blush on her cheeks told a different story. Mikhailis wasn't about to complain—not when her presence seemed to momentarily lift the weight of his bruised and battered body, making the aches almost bearable. Explore more at My Virtual Library Empire

He tilted his head slightly, catching a glimpse outside the cavern entrance. The storm that had raged so fiercely was now a distant memory. Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the cavern ceiling, painting the rough stone walls with golden hues. The air felt crisp and new, carrying the earthy scent of rain-soaked ground. Beyond the cavern, the world looked transformed—bright and inviting, as if nature itself had taken a deep breath and decided to start fresh.

The storm really worked some magic, Mikhailis thought, his sharp eyes tracing the landscape outside. The usual heavy mist that blanketed the area had thinned considerably, revealing vibrant greenery and distant hills that seemed almost too picturesque to be real. It was the kind of view that made him want to grab a camera—if only he had one.

"The Lone Wolf is swift as always," he remarked, his voice teasing but soft, as he noticed Cerys already packing their belongings. Her movements were efficient, her red ponytail swaying lightly as she secured their supplies. She paused at his words, glancing over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow and a faint smirk.

"Someone has to be," she replied, her tone light but carrying a hint of amusement.

Mikhailis chuckled, the sound low and easy.

"Fair point. Guess I'll just sit here and enjoy the view while you do all the work."

"You're already doing that," she shot back, though her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile.

The exchange was brief but comfortable, a rare moment of levity between them. Mikhailis' grin lingered as he leaned his head back against the wall, his gaze drifting back to the cavern entrance. The world felt alive in a way that was almost infectious, the kind of morning that made even his battered body feel slightly less miserable.

Stretching his arms carefully, Mikhailis winced as a sharp pain shot through his side. He groaned softly, lowering his arms and glancing at the source of his discomfort. The bruises and bandages that covered his torso were a stark reminder of the previous day's chaos.

"Don't push yourself," Cerys warned, her voice carrying that no-nonsense tone he had grown used to. She approached him, carrying a small bag that jingled faintly with supplies.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waving her off with a lazy grin. His eyes shifted to their horse, which stood near the entrance of the cavern, drinking eagerly from a makeshift bucket Cerys had fashioned. It was an impressive piece of work, crafted from thick bark and bound tightly with vines. The horse's tail swished contentedly as it lapped up the water, its flanks still glistening faintly from the storm's residue.

Riding that thing is going to be rough, Mikhailis thought, his gaze narrowing slightly. His body wasn't in any condition to endure the jostling of a journey, let alone take the reins himself. Even the thought of trying sent waves of phantom pain through his battered frame, a reminder of how much his body had endured.

His ribs still felt as though they were wrapped in a tight band of fire, and every breath brought with it a dull ache that radiated outwards. Even his hands, usually steady, trembled slightly as he flexed them experimentally, testing the limits of his recovery.

It was frustrating—being reduced to this state, reliant on others when his pride screamed for independence. Still, the sight of the horse drinking with such fervor offered a small solace. The makeshift bucket, crafted so meticulously by Cerys, was a marvel of practicality—a blend of nature and ingenuity that spoke to her adaptability. Watching the horse lap up the water, its flanks glistening with the remnants of the storm, Mikhailis couldn't help but envy its resilience. He shifted slightly, wincing as his bruised torso protested even that minor movement. No, there's no way I could manage this ride without help.

As if reading his mind, Cerys spoke up.

"I'll hold the reins today. Your job is to heal as fast as you can, Your Highness."

Mikhailis turned to her, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips.

"Roger that, Lone Wolf. I guess I'll listen to the boss for now."

Her faint smile widened slightly before she returned to her task, checking the horse's saddle and ensuring everything was secure. Mikhailis watched her for a moment longer before his gaze shifted to the darker depths of the cavern behind them.

The memory of the crystalline serpent flashed through his mind, vivid and unrelenting. Its shimmering body, the strange woman who had appeared with such overwhelming power, and the mini-dragon that had taken him down despite his best efforts—the scenes replayed like a haunting dream. He clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Even with his Chimera Ant enhancements, he had been utterly outmatched.

There's more to this place than meets the eye, he thought, his gaze lingering on the shadows within the cavern. But I'm not stupid enough to stick around and find out.

He whispered under his breath, barely audible.

"Rodion, send five Chimera Ant soldiers to investigate the cavern. I want to know what's deeper in there."

<Already anticipated and prepared, Mikhailis. The units are en route.>

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

Always one step ahead, huh?

As Cerys continued packing, Rodion's voice buzzed softly through his glasses.

<Progress report: The crystalline serpent's remains have been successfully transported to the nest. Preliminary analysis suggests the core is radiating high-tier mana, and the Chimera Ant Queen has shown unusual activity, suggesting extreme eagerness to assimilate it. Current resource inventory includes the serpent's materials, Mist Whale resources, and an increase in auxiliary materials derived from storm-scavenged flora and fauna.>

Mikhailis raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't we overstocked?" he murmured.

<Indeed. The surplus has increased Fire Scarab production. Additionally, despite the loss of 100 Chimera Ant soldiers, the Queen has laid 900 new eggs, with five variant eggs still incubating.>

Adrenaline rushes are fun, but not worth this much pain, Mikhailis mused, glancing at his bruised and battered body.

Better to let the Ravager do the dirty work next time.

<Agreed. Your direct involvement is too high-risk. Avoid future confrontations.>

Mikhailis smirked faintly.

"Admit it, Rodion. You're afraid of me dying."

<Worry is a foreign factor in my system, Mikhailis.>

Mikhailis chuckled softly, shaking his head.

Always so sentimental.

Rising slowly, Mikhailis felt his balance waver. Cerys was by his side instantly, her arms steadying him before he could fall.

"Thanks," he muttered, only to freeze as he realized where his hand had landed. His palm rested against her chest, and the faint heat of her skin beneath her tunic sent a jolt of embarrassment through him. Cerys let out a small, involuntary moan, her body stiffening briefly under his touch. Mikhailis's face panicked as he tried to pull his hand away, but his muscles betrayed him, sluggish from exhaustion and shock. He noted, almost incredulously, that she wasn't pushing him away. Her cheeks burned with a fierce blush, her gaze darting to the side, yet she made no move to remove his hand. If anything, there was a strange softness in her expression—an unspoken permission that made his heart pound faster.

"L-Lone Wolf? Are you… aroused?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly, his mind racing to make sense of her reaction.

"I'm not!" she snapped, her voice high-pitched and defensive, but the slight waver betrayed her embarrassment. Despite her protest, she remained still, her breathing uneven as her hands steadied him. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of mortification and something deeper, unspoken, that neither dared to address.

She helped him onto the horse without further comment, her movements brisk but careful. Once he was seated, she climbed up behind him, her arms wrapping gently around his waist to hold the reins. Mikhailis stiffened slightly as he felt the soft press of her body against his back, her warmth radiating through the thin layers of their clothing. The intimacy of their proximity sent a faint flush to his cheeks, but he quickly pushed the thought aside.

Cerys adjusted her hold on the reins, her breath brushing softly against the nape of his neck. Mikhailis could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his back, steady but slightly quickened, as if she was equally aware of the closeness. Her fingers briefly grazed his sides as she shifted, and he couldn't help but notice the care in her touch, deliberate and gentle, almost as if she was afraid of causing him discomfort.

His heart beat a little faster, a mix of excitement and something else he couldn't quite name. For a moment, he considered making a quip to lighten the tension, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, catching a glimpse of her face out of the corner of his eye. Her cheeks were tinged pink, her gaze focused ahead, though her lips were pressed together in a way that betrayed her self-consciousness.

"You alright back there?" he asked, his voice softer than usual, carrying a note of genuine concern.

"I'm fine," she replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly.

"Just… focus on staying steady. You're still injured."

Mikhailis smirked faintly, leaning back just enough to let his head rest lightly against her shoulder.

"You're awfully considerate for a Lone Wolf. Didn't think you'd go this soft on me."

"I'm not soft," she shot back, her tone defensive but lacking its usual bite. Her arms tightened around him ever so slightly, her movements betraying a mix of annoyance and concern.

"Just… don't fall off."

The quiet moment stretched between them, the rhythmic clatter of the horse's hooves filling the silence. Mikhailis closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself to relax into her hold. Despite the awkwardness, there was a strange comfort in her presence, a warmth that made the aches in his body a little more bearable. He felt her shift slightly, her breath brushing against his ear as she whispered.

"Just let me take care of this, Your Highness."

"Isn't this rough for you?" he asked, glancing back at her. He noticed she wasn't wearing her usual breastplate, making the situation… more comfortable than expected.

"It's fine," she replied, though her voice was barely above a whisper.

This girl… she's definitely aroused, Mikhailis thought, trying to suppress a grin.

<Congratulations, Mikhailis. Another person falls victim to your unintended charms.>

Not my fault, Mikhailis retorted inwardly.

The horse trotted forward with renewed energy, its steps smooth and sure. Mikhailis relaxed slightly, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. The mist had almost entirely dissipated, revealing a world that felt sharper and more vibrant. The storm's high-pressure system had likely cleared the area, a natural phenomenon that Rodion confirmed with his usual matter-of-fact tone.

The journey felt lighter somehow, the scenery more breathtaking than he remembered. Yet, a lingering thought tugged at the back of his mind. He sighed softly, a faint smile curving his lips.

"I hope Vyrelda and Lira won't be mad about this," he murmured, the words drifting into the crisp morning air as the horse carried them onward.