Master’s Order
by M1zushiAfter eating his first full meal since his regression, Bai Ling returned to his dorm and, for once, slept well for several days. When he woke up, he lazily stretched up, feeling his energy had recovered significantly.
Meat really gives you strength.
North had sharp eyes. “Went to see your blond, wavy-haired friend again?”
Bai Ling, brushing his teeth, mumbled, “Mhm.”
North was thoughtful. “A blond omega? Sounds like a very noble bloodline. What species is he?”
Species? Bai Ling hadn’t asked about that. He only knew the man was most likely a concubine living in the Cold Palace, and he looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight.
As for why he was so sure the other was an omega—it was, of course, because his restriction ring hadn’t gone off. If the man had been an alpha disguised as an omega, and had held him with such impure thoughts several times, the alarm would have been beeping nonstop.
North, however, looked dubious after hearing the explanation. “But this is the Imperial Palace, little bird. Ordinary alphas do wear restriction rings, but the law states that the Emperor doesn’t have to.”
Bai Ling was unconcerned. “I’d recognize the tyrant. He’s not blond.”
North thought internally: …I didn’t say it was the current one. For example, the former dynasty’s Merfolk royalty were all blond. The one you met might have been the old emperor’s… ghost.
Of course, no one would believe such a wild thought even if he said it.
North watched him finish washing up, change into his best shirt, and prepare to go out. North asked, surprised, “It’s Saturday. There’s no Omega Virtue class today. Where are you going?”
“To help a friend fix something.”
On the top floor of the palace tower, the sliding door opened. The little robot came out happily to greet him, taking the small toolbox Bai Ling had swiped from a utility closet. Its camera lenses switched to two little rainbows.
“You’re here so early today.”
Bai Ling smiled, patting its little metal head.
The AI then led him on a tour of the palace. It quietly rotated its camera to observe the “mechanical little bird.” Since coming here a few days ago to get the new battery, the bird’s walking had finally become much smoother. He no longer stumbled every two steps, and even his spine was straighter.
“This place is pretty big, huh?” Bai Ling looked around curiously. He passed one room, entered another corridor, and followed a wooden spiral staircase upward. Sunlight streamed through the windowpanes, warming his ankles.
Wooden stairs, wooden baseboards, wooden cabinets and window frames… It was perhaps a bit outdated, but it gave off a warm, grounded sense of order. In the corner was a full orrery, and under the window was a delicate, thin-legged table displaying small, ceramic-fired flowers and animals. The trinkets weren’t expensive; what was valuable was the owner’s taste.
Bai Ling reached out to turn on a crystal lamp, but a “pop” exploded next to his ear.
…The wire burned out.
The AI was unfazed. “That’s the sixth one.”
Bai Ling sighed softly. As expected, the problem of aging facilities is everything. The electrical systems were practically antiques from the last century.
No wonder this master and servant were having trouble. No one knew how to fix this stuff anymore.
But, as it happened, he did.
As he walked, Bai Ling wrote down every problem he found on a list. In a daze, he almost felt like he was back in his past life, doing daily maintenance inspections on an interstellar carrier.
After completing the tour, this feeling grew even stronger. He realized that there didn’t seem to be any smart home appliances in any of the rooms.
The little robot explained: “Oh, that’s because Master needs to rest quietly. He doesn’t like hearing all kinds of electromagnetic noise.”
Bai Ling’s heart skipped. “He’s sick? Is it serious?”
No wonder I didn’t see him today.
The AI nodded. “It’s similar to our mechanical circuits aging. It’s an old problem. When it’s bad, he’s often unconscious for several days.”
He’s that sick? …No wonder he was too weak to resist when Bai Ling held him hostage.
Bai Ling lowered his gaze, his lips pressing together. He said nothing.
The AI observed the worry on his face and quickly comforted him, “But he gets plenty of exercise normally! He won’t break down halfway.”
Bai Ling: “Halfway?”
The AI enthusiastically seized the opportunity. ” Master is sleeping in the bedroom. Do you want to go see?”
“…Better not.” Bai Ling hesitated, then said, “Please let him rest well. I’ll come back another day.”
Bai Ling was about to leave, but the cleaning robot called him to the kitchen and stuffed a bag of beef jerky into his hands.
“This is Master’s order.” The AI deliberately imitated Yu Chen’s tone, switching its audio to a surround-sound bass:
“You must eat all of it.”
Bai Ling froze for a moment. His lips thinned as he tried to hide the curve of his smile.
He kind of liked small commands like that.
Bai Ling put the beef jerky away. His gaze stopped, and he turned to look at a cardboard box nearby. Inside was a pair of platinum-gray suit trousers, the ones that had been dirtied by his prosthesis oil.
The brownish-yellow stain snaked down the fabric. It clearly hadn’t been washed out.
The AI followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s trash. It’s waiting to be thrown out.”
Bai Ling decisively walked over and gathered the trousers in his arms. “Can I have these?”
The AI instinctively wanted to warn him that an omega who has too much contact with Master’s level of pheromones could be stimulated into laying eggs. But then its CPU spun up, and it remembered the other party was just an “android” omega. It agreed readily.
“They’re all yours.”
At the same time, in the study adjoining the bedroom, the sound of a terminal call could be heard.
One of the voices was particularly respectful: “Good day, Your Majesty.”
“Uriel, I need you to send something over.”
Even over the network, Uriel held his terminal and maintained a bow. “Please, instruct me.”
“I need a light-cursor ankle shackle,” he slowly and deliberately said.
“An ankle shackle?” Uriel repeated, surprised, thinking he had misheard.
The light-cursor shackle, also known as an electric shock anklet, was different from the official inhibitor wristbands that displayed ID and prevented A/O contact. This one had a built-in 30-milliamp current and was usually used to control rampaging, irrational alphas.
In the last century, during Izsu Paraiso’s reign, all alphas in rut had been forced to wear these shackles to prevent them from harming omegas with a forced mark.
But with the New Empire’s emphasis on alpha dominance over the past decade, no one was willing to wear a shackle and restrain themselves anymore.
Uriel guessed carefully, “Is it… is your condition worsening again?”
Yu Chen’s fingers tapped lightly on the desk. “It’s unrelated to that.”
Uriel probed, “Then why…?”
The tapping on the other end of the line suddenly stopped. Uriel’s heart leaped into his throat. But then, the other person let out a soft laugh.
“A little one in his differentiation period is coming to visit.”
Uriel slowly exhaled, his normal tone returning. “A little one? Have you finally met some… delectable food? Congratulations, congratulations! What does he look like? What’s his bloodline? Ah, apologies, I shouldn’t pry into Imperial Uncle’s privacy. Ahem. Actually, I have good news to share with you, too! About our production line—”
Yu Chen shifted his position, showing a flicker of interest. “Progress?”
“That’s right! We found a new test pilot. If all goes well, he should be coming for his interview today.”
In truth, Uriel wasn’t sure if the “little white-hair” would actually show up. The kid had only taken the business card and agreed to “check out” the Mecha Guild on Saturday.
But he had a gut feeling the little bird would go.
The reason was simple: he was poor.
On this point, Uriel had guessed correctly. At noon, Bai Ling held the repair list, chewing on his pen cap with a furrowed brow.
By his estimation, just replacing the aging wires would cost at least 5,000 interstellar credits. With his bank accounts frozen, this was money he absolutely did not have.
Of course, he could ask the wavy-haired man for it. But the man had already fed him. He couldn’t just take food and money. He should pay for it himself.
Thinking of this, Bai Ling pulled out the wet by rain business card.
On the weekend, the Mecha Guild was packed. It felt a lot like a labor market.
In reality, in the Waterfowl Empire, piloting a mecha was a job similar to being a “truck driver” on Old Earth. It was just that the “roads” were in the sky.
The various associations under the Guild’s umbrella were essentially equivalent to labor service dispatch companies. They trained employees internally and took on various external contracts, including but not limited to: land reclamation, bridge construction, merchant ship escorts, and private security.
Of course, the ones doing construction were generally low-level associations, 3-star or below. Merchant escorts and security could only be handled by high-qualification 4-star or 5-star associations, to ensure the employer’s safety.
The crowd looked up, excitedly scanning the dense postings, hoping for a chance to get in.
“A lot of 3-star associations are hiring today!”
“Holy crap, what’s today? Even ‘Eloquent Crows and Sparrows’ posted spots!”
“Don’t even look at ‘Eloquent Crows and Sparrows.’ They’re a 5-star association. They won’t even glance at rookies like us.”
The 3-star association had better benefits and a lot of openings, making them the first choice for most applicants. The crowd moved to the sign-up point, where they noticed a cold-looking young man already asking about the 3-star associations.
He walked up to the reception desk and nonchalantly said, “A 3-star application form, please.”
But the receptionist replied, “There are a lot of applicants for the 3-star association. Your entrance test has been scheduled for the 3rd of next month.”
That long?
Bai Ling frowned. “Is there anything that doesn’t have a waitlist? Preferably one with results today?”
The receptionist rolled his eyes. “Today? In your dreams. Even if there was an opening, would you dare try for a 5-star association? A mercenary with zero experience like you? You’d be thrown right out—”
“Fine. Sign me up for the 5-star.”
Hearing this, the receptionist’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
What a joke. The 5-star legion weren’t for amateurs. They were the top of the industry, and the internal competition was brutal. Any pilot who wanted in had to be securely ranked in the planet’s top 200.
You? You thought you could compete for the planet’s top 200?
“No self-awareness at all…” the receptionist muttered. But good advice was wasted on someone determined to die. He still signed Bai Ling up and directed him to the testing field out back.
The moment he stepped into the testing field, a miasma of alpha pheromones mix hit him in the face. It was stronger than the smell of an old, overcrowded holiday train.
Bai Ling wrinkled his nose. Mercenary associations had always been an alpha’s world. There were some omegas and betas, but they were extremely rare.
Therefore, the moment he walked in, he attracted several leering stares.
The walkway was narrow. Two young alphas were walking toward him. They froze when they saw Bai Ling’s face, then began to look him up and down, making tsk-tsk sounds.
“A pretty face like that, here for the test?”
“Careful, little beauty. Don’t get your face all banged up in the cockpit. You won’t sell for a good price then.”
Bai Ling shifted his gaze, as if just noticing them. “I thought wearing a safety helmet when you power up was basic knowledge for any beginner.”
“You!” Realizing he was being mocked, Lu Xun’s anger flared.
Lu Xun was the Trade Union vice-president’s only son. Who didn’t dare give him face? He and his friend had just come to take the 5-star test and failed. He was looking for someone to take his anger out on, and this white-haired cripple had just walked right into him.
Lu Xun sneered. “Looking down on me? Fine. Let’s compete. If I win, you have to swear you’ll never pilot a mecha again.”
The crowd quickly gathered to watch the spectacle. Swearing to never pilot a mecha again… that was a heavy vow. It looked like the white-haired kid would surely back down.
Bai Ling said, “Fine. I’ll grant your wish.”
As soon as he said it, the entire field was in an uproar.
Soon, the two pilots entered the field. On the left was Lu Xun’s custom mecha: tall, powerful, and with a gleaming chassis. And the one on the right…
“Are you kidding me? This is hilarious! What the hell is that?”
“It looks… familiar…”
“Isn’t that the piece of junk abandoned next to the warehouse?”
In short, Bai Ling was piloting “trash.”
Author has something to say:
(All the seemingly free beef was already marked with a price by fate) → I wanted to dedicate this sentence to our little bird, hahaha
Who would have thought that a certain old Merman was the one who strictly restrained himself and put on his own shackles?
Thank you to all the little angels who voted for me or irrigated me with nutrient solution~
Thank you all so much for your support, I will continue to deliver the little bird (as takeout)!
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