If it looked like he was finally within reach, that infuriating little bee would just flutter away with those tiny wings of his. It was beyond aggravating. Hurel didn’t think this fury would subside until he saw that bee groveling on the ground, on all fours, begging for forgiveness in utter humiliation.
Maybe he should just tear that bothersome pest apart right here, shred his wings off, violate him until he passed out, tie him up, and drag him back home. But even that didn’t seem like enough to quell this boiling rage. Hurel was far angrier than he’d realized—so angry it felt like he might lose his mind.
“Fine. Let’s do that.”
Spitting the words out through clenched teeth, Hurel exhaled a searing breath pulled from deep within his chest. His jaw was tight, teeth grinding together. He sank his sharp fangs into the tip of his tongue, letting the venom seep in, a sharp sting spreading through the muscle. Facing the honeybee, who was smiling so cluelessly, Hurel pulled the corners of his lips up in a forced grin.
“Alright, let’s go.”
“Thanks for understanding, Hurel…!”
You’re the one who provoked me. This is all your fault. Branding the utterly irrational thought deep into his mind, Hurel hardened his gaze, curling his lips and cheeks with practiced ease to return a faint smile.
***
“Nnngh.”
His body was screaming at him with two opposing needs: he was dehydrated and urgently needed to pee. General was currently both parched and about to burst. He’d held it in for as long as he could, worried that one wrong move on a dark night like this could send him tumbling, but he’d hit his limit. Carefully, cautiously, he climbed down branch by branch, making sure not to slip and fall flat on his back. When his feet finally touched solid ground, he let out a relieved sigh.
Even as easygoing as General was, he still didn’t want to relieve himself right below his sleeping spot. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he wandered through the woods, half-awake, scanning the area as he walked. While he was out, he figured he might as well check the dew bundles he’d tucked between some leaves earlier.
“Huh?”
Even through his bleary, sleep-heavy eyes, something silver and bright caught his attention in the dim woods. A star? But it fluttered softly in the breeze—looked like hair. Come to think of it, he’d seen a creature with hair that color before. A breathtaking face, always cold, always glaring at him. Despite the chill of that memory, General felt a strange rush of warmth and lifted his hand in a lazy wave.
“Hey there—”
Maybe he’d get chewed out for being spineless again, but even that kind of cold shoulder couldn’t stop the weird fondness that kept growing for this pale, strange creature. Maybe it was because he reminded General of someone he used to be close to, a long time ago.
General opened his mouth, ready to banter about how dangerous it was to be out here alone, but he never got the words out. Instead, his eyes went wide.
“—!”
Huge frame. Nearly indestructible exoskeleton. Immense strength and threatening horns. As a rhinoceros beetle, General had grown up without much to fear. In his ecosystem, nothing posed much of a threat to him. His only real worry was flipping onto his back and being unable to get up.
That meant he’d never really felt fear.
But now—his spine crawled, his heart pounded like it might leap from his chest, his mouth was bone-dry, and a cold knot clenched deep in his belly. His neck felt like ice. Was this fear?
The beetle, normally so solid, crumpled to the ground, trembling as he stared at the monster in front of him.
“W-what the hell…”
The creature had eyes like deep, black wells, dark smoke curling off of him. It moved slowly, like time itself lagged around it. Whatever it had been holding in its arms dropped with a careless thud to the forest floor. General realized it was a leg—just a leg, severed from something that had been alive.
The scream came from the pit of his stomach. Or it would have—if something soft yet shockingly strong hadn’t clamped down over his mouth.
“Mm! Mmmph!”
“So noisy…”
The spider had been in a foul mood already, and now this idiot was interrupting dinner. Hurel clucked his tongue in annoyance and tossed aside the half-finished remnants of his meal. As he advanced toward the rhinoceros beetle, heavy, stiff objects—bones or limbs—dropped into the underbrush with dull thuds. Even through his terror-numbed mind, General felt his stomach revolt, gagging as bile rose in his throat.
His vision blurred with tears. Blinking through the sting, he noticed something glistening in the dark—silver threads beaded with dew. The strands were so fine, he never would’ve noticed them without the moisture. They were spread far and wide, enclosing the entire thicket like a magical barrier.
And then he remembered.
That pale creature had blushed earlier, mumbling something about not having enough thread to make more than one hammock. General had laughed heartily, told him not to worry, and secured himself to a sturdy branch before drifting off to sleep.
But now—where the hell had all this thread come from…?
Thwack—
Before he could finish the thought, a massive impact slammed into his lower abdomen. Without time to react, General was knocked onto his back, limbs flailing in desperation. He burst into tears.
“There’s no reason to let you live.”
Looking down at him with chilling indifference, the spider muttered coldly. General, mouth gagged and unable to beg for his life, flailed even more desperately, trying to convey anything with his hands and feet. Normally, this kind of reaction would at least spark some curiosity—but this monster had no mercy.
A brutal heel pressed into his gut, like it was trying to crush his intestines, and for the first time in his life, General wept uncontrollably.
“Ugh—dammit…!”
The pale spider backed off a few steps, brows furrowed in disgust. General, stunned and confused by this unexpected stroke of luck, was just starting to come back to his senses… when it hit him. Oh right—he was trying to go to the bathroom earlier. And now—he’d done something utterly disgraceful.
Utterly humiliated, he could barely process anything. But still—if this was a chance, he had to take it. Who cared about shame when his life was on the line? Bracing himself, he used his own saliva to loosen the silk just enough to mumble out a plea.
“Uuuugh… I’m disgusting right now… You’ll get sick if you eat me—don’t eat meee…!”
Hurel hadn’t planned to eat him. Dinner was almost over anyway. Looking up at the spider, who now wore a disinterested grimace as if staring at trash, the beetle continued his desperate groveling.
He’d never been the brightest bug, even as a larva. But when cornered, it seemed that even his dim brain could push past its limits.
“Don’t come near me—huff—I’ll get you dirty! You really want that?”
“Ha.”
The spider let out a deflating, mocking laugh, and suddenly, General’s whole body froze.
That insane amount of thread. That terrifying strength. That tall, slender figure. That blinding white, silver-toned hair.
Could it be…? Was he… a tarantula?
Tarantulas—spiders that could shoot venom from a distance and kill their prey with a single hit. General fell into despair.
“Please don’t kill me, please—I’ll never tell anyone, I swear! That you’re a spider—no, I mean, Lord Spider! I’ll keep my mouth shut, just let me live…!”
Trying to figure out why the spider was about to kill him when he clearly wasn’t even hungry, General’s mind managed to land on a plausible explanation: Hurel didn’t want his identity getting out. The guy must be sneaking off at night to hunt and didn’t want anyone knowing what he really was.
“You swear you’ll keep quiet?”
It sounded like hope. Like a lifeline descending from a stormy sky. General nodded so hard his head nearly came off. The spider, no longer threatening, actually smiled softly, almost sweetly, and spoke in a calm, gentle tone.
“But if I let you live, then I’ll have to live every day terrified you’ll slip up. And there’s every possibility you’ll get careless, open that loose mouth of yours, and ruin everything.”
“I-I swear I won’t—!”
“Meanwhile, if I lift just one finger right now, all of that worry disappears like snow. Isn’t that the obvious choice?”
He had no counterargument. Tears streamed down his face.
“Ughh, damn it—you bastard, rot in he—no, wait, I didn’t mean that! I misspoke! Please, don’t kill me!”
Even if he screamed himself hoarse, all that came out was a pitiful whimper through the gag. It felt so unfair. He’d just escaped death, only to fall into an even worse nightmare. It was enough to make him sob from pure despair. And the beautiful spider, gracefully approaching to end him, just made the whole thing worse.
“Hurel?”
The spider froze mid-step.
“What are you doing over there?”
Hurel clicked his tongue silently, suppressing his killing aura as he quickly composed his expression. He’d figured the bee was exhausted enough to sleep through anything—but he was wrong.
The honeybee, nestled in his arms atop the hammock, had quietly cried for a long while, thinking no one could hear. Only after soaking the spider’s chest with silent tears had he finally drifted off, sniffling like a congested child. Hurel had snuck out as carefully as possible, certain he wouldn’t wake, to enjoy his meal in peace.
“Bee-Bee, why are you up? You must be tired.”
“Hurel… what about you?”
His voice was hoarse, nasally. Not surprising—he’d cried himself to sleep, after all. Hurel wanted nothing more than to leap over, bite him, kiss him, smother him in affection—but right now wasn’t the time. He had a problem on his hands: body parts from his unfinished meal still scattered all around.
“W-we just came out to go to the bathroom…!”
“General? You were out too?”
Sensing a lifeline, General quickly took Hurel’s side. He’d spent the last few moments feverishly calculating his next move. And right now, siding with Hurel was probably the only way to stay alive a little longer.
That handled the beetle, at least. But the mess—this bloodied, chaotic scene—was still very much a problem. As Hurel tried to figure out how to clean it up, he realized something: Blaine hadn’t even noticed General’s presence, despite him being closer to the bee than Hurel himself.
“Bee-Bee, are you alright?”
“Ow—!”
The honeybee had stepped on General’s arm and stumbled. Hurel caught him immediately, wrapping an arm around his waist. One close look at his face confirmed it—Blaine wasn’t just oblivious, he literally couldn’t open his eyes. Poor thing had cried so hard that his eyelids had puffed up like they’d been stung.
So cute. He was full, probably getting sleepy—perfect time to drag him off, cuddle up, and fall asleep together.
Hurel placed a soft kiss on the swollen eyelid and shot a chilling glare at the beetle before tightening his grip on Blaine’s waist and pulling him close. Blaine, struggling to walk with his swollen eyes, didn’t resist at all.
“Urgh… you’re just leaving me here…”
Sure, he should’ve been thankful to be alive—but he still felt pitiful. With all that webbing around, no predator would be dragging him off anytime soon. His back would probably ache tomorrow, but whatever. And he was still so thirsty. Eyes brimming again, General forced himself to sleep.
