Chapter 94#
Distant Star Reflection 02#
In the back seat, the driver and secretary turned pale from excessive speed and sharp turns, exchanging glances. Of course, not because the duke drove poorly—he drove impossibly well. This made them deeply uncomfortable.
“What’s wrong with the Duke?” The driver finally sensed something amiss.
“You know about alphas’ lucid intervals before complete mania?” The secretary spoke loudly enough Yu Feichen could hear though intending otherwise. “I suspect the Duke entered this phase early. Guess what he searched on the terminal?”
“What?”
“First, basic knowledge everyone knows—Pope, Emperor, alpha, omega and such.”
“The Duke finally became mentally disabled?”
“That would be better. Later, he searched an absurdly long phrase: ‘How to become beta.’”
The driver sighed: “He’s hopeless.”
“Hopeless.”
Yu Feichen the “hopeless” navigated the final turn with frigid indifference, the shuttle streaking forward like a released arrow, easily bypassing groundwork blockades, directly entering the aviation port, then parking at impossible precision in the designated takeoff area in an imaginably short distance.
The secretary glanced at his watch: “Thank heaven, Duke. We arrived ten minutes early. See the Isabella over there? She’s beautiful. However, you’ve violated thirteen traffic regulations—enough to revoke your license twenty times.”
Yu Feichen descended: “Shut up.”
“But I must remind you—though we arrived early, the Isabella is already in launch preparation—Duke! Wait for me!”
Yu Feichen’s eyes fixed on the massive fortress ship’s gradually closing landing ramp—no choice but full sprint toward it. Thankfully he wore military uniform rather than cumbersome formal wear.
Approaching the ship, the engine’s heat wave intensified, pushing outward, the landing zone resembling a giant force field. Finally, Yu Feichen closed his eyes, pushing forward against tremendous resistance regardless. Finally his body lightened, entering the ship’s cool interior.
—The ramp door slowly closed behind him.
Yu Feichen’s vision darkened slightly, yet he could make out a figure in deep brown near the operations station—apparently personnel.
“I’m Losh Landon, Imperial Duke, executing the Pope’s orders escorting the Isabella with prisoner escort duty,” he managed, breathing hard. “Two followers behind. Delay departure, let them board.”
The brown-clad man simply raised his head, watching silently with no intention of following orders. Until another low male voice came from beside: “Father Hope, please delay departure five minutes.”
The brown-clad “Father Hope” finally pressed several buttons on the operations panel, the ramp reopening.
Yu Feichen looked toward whoever had spoken. A sturdy, powerfully-built man around fifty wearing military uniform, shoulder insignia far exceeding Yu Feichen’s own. Alpha instinct told Yu Feichen this was also a powerful alpha.
The man’s hawk-like iron-gray eyes turned toward him, regarding him briefly before speaking: “That’s the most sensible sentence I’ve heard from you in twenty years.”
Yu Feichen: “.”
He’d basically understood what Losh Landon, whom he’d replaced, was like: a worthless duke waste interested only in drinking, reckless driving, and collecting antique shuttles. Such behavior deserved strict discipline, but considering the world likely lacked compatible omegas for him, destined at twenty-five for mania and sanatorium residency, expectations had lowered considerably.
This amounted to indirect permissiveness. No wonder nobody found his lateness surprising.
The secretary and driver arrived breathing hard. The secretary addressed the military officer with fearful tone: “A…General Ashley, good afternoon.”
The man nodded slightly, turning: “Let’s go.”
So this was General Ashley heading the mission. Yu Feichen followed.
Yu Feichen remembered “General Ashley” clearly because the supreme deity always appeared as a superior officer. He couldn’t help speculating whether Ashley might be It. But seeing the real person, that seemed impossible.
The ship tilted slightly, ascending sensation beginning—the Isabella launched.
“We’ll reach the destination mining star in one week, complete the mission in a day, then return to the capital for your majority ceremony,” General Ashley explained. “Now, find somewhere to stay. Don’t cause us problems.”
Yu Feichen further confirmed his image in others’ minds.
He made his tone sincere: “I’d like to help with this mission however I can.”
General Ashley: “That truly surprises me.”
The secretary coughed lightly: “Our Duke… he’s had a change of heart.”
“I offer sincere congratulations,” General Ashley said. “But according to my knowledge, your only skill is researching and piloting antique shuttles. This mission’s helm is managed by Father Hope, the most experienced ship operator. No additional help needed.”
Yu Feichen: “Perhaps I could learn something.”
General Ashley finally looked at him properly: “What would you learn?”
Yu Feichen obviously didn’t know what he could learn, but he knew he must involve himself in events affecting this world’s destiny. And he’d discovered this world had a Pope, Emperor, and opposing “rebel military.”
Yu Feichen: “I’d like learning things helping us thoroughly resolve the rebel problem.”
General Ashley stopped walking, observing him, the first trace of approval appearing in his iron-gray eyes: “Seems your secretary was right—you’ve truly changed, Landon.”
A secretary—where was any secretary in this context?
Yu Feichen watched his secretary puff his chest proudly.
Yu Feichen maintained sincerity, his naturally calm, decisive tone needing no feigned emotion: “I can’t bear to disappoint the Pope’s expectations further.”
General Ashley nodded approvingly, then: “I think you should visit the interrogation room. They’re questioning the prisoner. Even if unhelpful, you’ll gain knowledge.”
Walking toward the interrogation room, Yu Feichen asked the secretary: “Are you my secretary or butler?”
“That depends on you, Duke,” the secretary answered. “If you have serious business, I’m your secretary. If you’re idle, I’m merely called a butler. Actually, I’m a butler aspiring to become secretary.”
“You’ll become one,” Yu Feichen said. “Now tell me everything about the rebel leader.”
“You forgot even him,” the secretary sighed. “I must say frankly, Duke, you might prepare for early sanatorium admission.”
Yu Feichen: “If you speak another word of nonsense, you’re joining me there.”
The secretary shuddered, quickly speaking: “He’s called Tan Per, Duke. Once the Pope’s most beloved student, the youngest bishop of the Holy Truth Cathedral—originally, after your majority ceremony, he’d become cardinal, following you to Landon, assisting your governance there.”
“But?”
“But he secretly joined rebels long ago, becoming leader, orchestrating numerous assassinations and dangerous activities. Now he’s captured. So you’ve lost your cardinal.”
A strange premonition rose in Yu Feichen’s heart.
“Is he attractive? Golden hair?” he asked.
“You finally remembered!” the secretary exclaimed. “Bishop Tan Per’s appearance is impeccable—he’s countless omegas’ dream.”
Definitely an alpha, exactly as Yu Feichen anticipated. He confirmed: “Tan Per is alpha?”
“Of course he’s alpha. Omegas are naturally fragile—incapable of plotting rebellion.”
Yu Feichen asked his most pressing question: “Does he have an omega?”
“His omega is his personal assistant, currently detained on the capital star,” the secretary sighed. “Other alphas have partners. Our Duke apparently shows terminal decline.”
Yu Feichen felt unbalanced. At this moment he arrived at the interrogation room.
The door opened with sliding sound. Cold air swept forth.
With the faint door sound, the person in the room’s center trembled slightly, startled. But this slight tremor quickly was masked by continuous, intense shaking.
Yu Feichen’s gaze grew heavy, watching through observation glass.
First catching his eye was slightly disheveled golden hair. The person’s eyes were covered with a black leather restraint, long limbs bound to an electric chair.
Electric torture. They were conducting interrogation through punishment.
In cold, dim light, the figure slightly hung its head, damp golden hair cascading messily. Electrodes firmly adhered to limbs, slightly parted lips breathed rapidly, exposing what torture they endured.
The warden questioned, holding a long name list, asking one by one if each was a collaborator.
Yet regardless, the person in the chair answered with hoarse but resolute voice: “No.”
The brown-clad priest beside the operations station said: “Lie detector shows no reaction. They’re not lying.”
“Goddammit, this person directly participated in rebellion!” The warden’s temple veins bulged, directly slamming the list against the person’s face.
The figure slightly turned its head, the list falling. A cold smile played at crimson lips—silent mockery.
The warden’s chest heaved, ordering: “Increase voltage.”
The priest slowly pushed a lever upward.
The person’s breathing became more ragged, even fingertips trembling.
Yu Feichen patted the secretary’s shoulder. The secretary understood, clearing his throat: “Duke Landon has arrived.”
The warden looked this way, nodding in acknowledgment: “Duke.”
Apparently the duke’s status still held some value, though people largely pretended not seeing when he entered.
“General Ashley ordered me to interrogate. You can leave,” Yu Feichen said coldly. “I want to question alone.”
The warden replied: “That violates protocol, Duke.”
“I believe I have authority interrogating him,” Yu Feichen looked fixedly that direction, appearing ready to devour flesh. “After all, you all know my relationship with Bishop Tan Per.”
Seeing him stare so intently with hunger, the warden laughed: “Certainly. Your homeland nearly fell to this rebel.”
Yu Feichen noticed him consulting the priest.
The priest nodded but added: “He must survive reaching the mining star, Duke.”
Yu Feichen: “I know.”
Everyone left. Yu Feichen finally dismissed the secretary with one glance.
The door closed with another sound. The electric chair’s occupant trembled again. Yu Feichen ignored him, first approaching the shock apparatus, gradually reducing current, slowly bringing it to levels not harming the human body. Then approaching the chair, he removed the eye restraint. As his fingers passed through icy golden hair, the person pressed firmly against the chairback, entire body tensed. Without knowing they’d endured extraordinarily cruel torture, Yu Feichen would have thought he was touching a triggered omega.
The black band fell away, lowered eyelashes trembled, gradually adapting to light before looking upward.
A pair of cold, transparent eyes. Obviously hardened—this type wouldn’t yield to interrogation.
Yet Yu Feichen was colorblind in human features though not color-blind. Ice-green eyes matched Commander Anphiel’s exactly, the teardrop mole quiet beneath. Without it, that face would inspire interrogators wanting to exhaust torture methods, wringing out hidden truths. But adding that small mark awakened a—
“Looking quite ragged,” Yu Feichen wiped away blood seeping from a small facial wound, speaking softly. “I’m Duke Landon, though with poor reputation.”
He knew the deity would recognize him. Indeed, three seconds later, the person spoke.
“Tan Per,” he said. “Former bishop.”
Yu Feichen already understood Tan Per’s identity. He looked around, wondering about surveillance.
“There are cameras,” Tan Per said. “You’d better make a show of it.”
Yu Feichen examined Tan Per briefly, glancing at nearby torture implements and medicines—a temporary interrogation room on a starship with incomplete equipment. He showed little interest.
Yu Feichen extended his hand.
His fingers hooked behind Tan Per’s head, passing through soft, icy gold hair, then five fingers pressed together, pulling hair back. Tan Per’s face was forced upward. The person’s body seemed to shiver slightly again.
Yu Feichen: “Like this?”
Tan Per breathed lightly, calmly watching Yu Feichen, ice-cold voice slightly hoarse: “You could be gentler.”