The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Mikhailis shifted slowly beneath the thick quilt, the linen brushing against his skin like water running down smooth stone. Every small movement still sent quiet aches whispering through his muscles, but at least now they felt bearable, more like faint echoes than the searing agony he'd known before. He drew in a careful breath, feeling the heaviness that clung stubbornly to his limbs. He let his eyes close for a brief moment, steeling himself, then opened them once more, determined.

His fingers curled gently around the edges of the sheets, gripping loosely as if hesitant to reveal whatever lay beneath. The pale, early morning sunlight slipped softly through the wooden shutters, painting delicate golden patterns across the room. Dust particles danced lazily in the beams, catching his eye momentarily, distracting him from the tension coiling gently in his chest.

Slowly, deliberately, he peeled the sheets downward, revealing his bare upper body inch by cautious inch. His heart quickened slightly, the anticipation building quietly within him. The cool air brushed his exposed skin, and despite the mild discomfort, he couldn't help but release a quiet sigh of relief. It was a simple pleasure, feeling the fresh air instead of oppressive sheets or stinging wounds.

His gaze drifted downward instinctively, coming to rest on the center of his chest, precisely where the brand of mist had seared itself into his skin. He stared carefully, squinting slightly as if trying to see through some hidden veil.

Nothing.

His chest was entirely smooth, as if the mark had never existed at all. No scars, no blemishes—only untouched flesh remained. The spot where he'd endured scorching pain and felt eerie power was now just normal, healthy skin.

Did I imagine all of that?

He frowned slightly, feeling confusion and suspicion mingling inside his chest. Memories of pain, memories of the brand itself—they felt far too vivid, too real to have been mere figments of a dream or hallucination.

At his side, Elowen stirred quietly, sensing the shift in his mood. Her golden eyes flickered toward him, immediately alert, watchful, sensitive to even the smallest changes in his demeanor.

Without uttering a single word, she lifted a small porcelain bowl filled with warm water from the nearby table. Her movements were precise, graceful, yet beneath that practiced elegance was genuine tenderness. She dipped a folded cloth into the water, the excess dripping gently, before bringing it carefully toward his shoulder.

He watched her silently, noting how the morning sunlight caught in her silver-white hair, painting delicate strands with faint glimmers. Her expression was focused, intense, yet gentle as she dabbed the cloth against his shoulder, moving slowly, scanning carefully. Her fingers felt soft, warm, reassuring against his skin, yet they trembled faintly, betraying her hidden worry.

"There's nothing," she whispered softly, her voice calm but faintly strained, her brow creasing in confusion. Her eyes moved slowly across his body, as if searching desperately for some sign—any sign—that what they'd both seen and experienced had truly happened.

"I didn't dream it, did I?" Mikhailis's voice came softly, almost uncertain, his eyes fixed on hers, seeking reassurance even as his pride resisted admitting doubt.

She shook her head gently, silver-white strands shifting softly around her shoulders. Her lips pressed into a thin, thoughtful line, eyes reflecting quiet intensity. "No. I saw it clearly. I felt the power radiating from it."

A long silence filled the space between them, heavy yet somehow comforting in its intimacy. He reached up hesitantly, fingers tracing gently over the place where the brand had burned into him. Expecting pain, expecting discomfort—but finding nothing. Just his own heartbeat, steady beneath his fingertips.

"Rodion." He finally spoke, breaking the silence. His voice remained quiet but firm, the edge of suspicion unmistakable. He needed certainty now—facts rather than feelings.

<You called, Mister Overdramatic?>

Mikhailis smiled faintly at Rodion's usual snarky entrance, finding some small comfort in the familiar sarcasm.

"I need a full diagnostic," he instructed, his tone sharpening slightly, seriousness overtaking his usual playful edge. "Inside and out. Everything."

<Finally, some appreciation for my actual function. Initiating multi-layer internal and external body scan. Stand by.>

Almost immediately, a soft clicking echoed gently from above, drawing Mikhailis's attention upward. Elowen followed his gaze, seemingly unperturbed—by now entirely accustomed to the Chimera Ants' subtle intrusions.

From the ceiling, a Chimera Ant Worker descended silently on gossamer threads, its dark carapace shimmering softly in the pale light. The insect moved with a fluid grace, its many legs expertly balanced. The faint glow from its eyes provided an oddly reassuring presence despite the inherent strangeness of the scene.

Slowly, methodically, the Ant moved onto Mikhailis's bare chest. Its luminous feelers extended carefully, brushing lightly across his skin. The sensation was gentle, whisper-soft, yet distinctly ticklish.

He jerked slightly, unable to fully suppress a soft chuckle. "Hey! That tickles," he protested weakly, lips quirking upward despite the seriousness of the moment.

<Noted. Adding 'ticklish baby' to medical file.>

He rolled his eyes gently, letting Rodion's mild teasing wash over him, strangely comforting in its familiarity. The Ant continued its gentle movements, methodically scanning every inch of his exposed skin and sending invisible pulses through his body.

He glanced toward Elowen, noting the careful calmness on her face. Her eyes followed the Ant's progress intently, expression guarded yet curious. It struck him briefly how far they'd come—her complete trust in these creatures he commanded, her silent acceptance of his strange abilities and companions. A quiet warmth filled him, appreciation mingling with faint awe. She'd always managed to take everything in stride, no matter how strange or unsettling.

He turned his focus back to the scanning process, observing quietly as the Ant paused, pulsing faintly before completing its work. He felt the subtle vibrations through its legs as it finished transmitting data back to Rodion.

Almost immediately, Rodion's familiar interface bloomed vividly into his vision. An intricate holographic display formed before him, revealing detailed overlays of his body—organs, bones, nerves—all mapped precisely, glowing in gentle shades of blue and white.

He studied the image carefully, noting the neat, clinical clarity Rodion always favored. His gaze moved slowly over the representation, quietly absorbing every tiny detail displayed.

<Summary: Physical condition stable but weakened. Multiple spiritual threads are frayed or partially disconnected. Recommend gradual rehabilitation. No trace of active mist-brand found.>

Mikhailis released a slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He turned his head slightly, studying Elowen's reaction to Rodion's announcement. Her expression remained calm, yet her eyes narrowed subtly, flickering with quiet suspicion.

"And the energy fluctuations from before?" he pressed carefully, unwilling to fully believe it just yet.

<Gone. Zero mist-based anomalies detected in your current state.>

Mikhailis felt his brow crease again, confusion returning stronger than before. He knew Rodion's scans were meticulous—perfectly accurate in every measurable sense—but something didn't sit right. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the brand hadn't simply vanished. Nothing ever vanished that cleanly, especially not something so powerful, so mysterious.

Elowen's eyes met his, clearly sharing his unease. Her hand unconsciously tightened around the damp cloth, her knuckles whitening slightly, betraying her quiet tension. She leaned closer, her voice lowered to a whisper as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance of the moment.

"If it's truly gone... where did it go?" she murmured, the weight of her words sinking heavily between them. Her golden eyes were intense, serious, her gentle worry seeping through the usually composed mask.

He nodded slowly, feeling the same quiet dread coiling faintly in his stomach. Something so powerful wouldn't vanish without consequence. The absence felt more ominous than comforting. His instincts told him clearly: whatever had marked him was still here, still present, hiding beneath his skin or deeper still. Simply dormant, waiting patiently to resurface again.

He turned his gaze carefully back toward the Ant, watching as it retreated silently, vanishing back into the ceiling shadows. The room felt colder without its subtle glow, emptier.

A faint shiver moved through his spine, the sudden chill not from the air but from his own troubling thoughts. He felt distinctly vulnerable, knowing that whatever the mist-brand was—whatever it represented—still lingered silently somewhere within him. Hidden, waiting for the right conditions to reawaken.

Yet even now, in the midst of uncertainty, he couldn't afford fear or hesitation. He exhaled softly, gathering his composure, letting his eyes drift closed briefly to steady himself. Whatever came next, he'd face it head-on, with clarity and determination.

Opening his eyes again, he found Elowen's gaze still focused steadily on him. Quiet, determined strength shone in her golden eyes, giving him courage.

He reached out gently, placing a comforting hand over hers, feeling her warmth seep slowly into him, calming his restless nerves.

"We'll find answers," he assured softly, determination filling his voice. "Whatever this brand is, wherever it's hiding... We'll uncover it together."

She nodded slowly, quiet trust clear in her gaze, her lips curving gently into a faint yet reassuring smile.

Mikhailis felt calmness return, filling his chest warmly despite lingering unease. He knew with absolute certainty—no matter what waited ahead, he wasn't alone. The thought gave him quiet confidence, grounding him solidly in the reality he faced.

Turning again toward Rodion's hologram, he studied it quietly one last time. He let out a breath, acknowledging the clear, definitive conclusion Rodion presented—yet keeping cautious skepticism firmly in place.

<Zero mist-based anomalies detected in your current state.>