“Tropical jungle?”
“Mm-hm. You don’t remember? We’re supposed to meet the sage who lives there.”
Yes, that had indeed been the plan. But wasn’t that unnecessary now? Hurel, who had so naturally assumed so, suddenly remembered—Blaine had never once said anything of the sort.
“Guess what—General actually knows that sage! Isn’t that amazing? He even knows where he lives. And he said he’ll travel with us!”
Blaine had been dying to share this wonderful news for days, itching to talk about it, but every time he tried, he got completely derailed by the spider’s hands. He now straightened his chest—brand-new bite marks and all—wearing a proud smile.
“When General was studying abroad, he broke his leg, and the sage healed it perfectly.”
If he could fix a broken leg, maybe he’d have a way to fix a stinger too, right? Either way, Blaine thought he was unbelievably lucky and blessed. He nodded earnestly to himself.
By this point, it should be obvious—Blaine swore he had done nothing to offend the spider. And yet, right after saying those very words, his ankles were tied up, and he was left dangling upside down.
“I thought you were innocent, but you’re actually shameless, Bee-Bee. Sweet-talking creatures with lines like, ‘I won’t return to the Hive, I’ll stay by your side,’ and whatever else. Disgusting.”
“I… I don’t understand what you mean…”
“What were you planning—lying to me like that? Planning to run off with that rhinoceros beetle again? Like last time?”
“Wha—?!”
How did he even know about that—about the time Blaine abandoned him and fled with General?! The stunned honeybee couldn’t even manage an excuse and only gulped air. And that, of course, poured gasoline onto the spider’s raging paranoia.
“I should have taken care of that beetle the first evening. And your wings too.”
Please spare me!!
“I shouldn’t have let it slide because I thought you were cute. I should’ve cut them off—or snapped them—right away.”
When did he ever “let something slide”? Blaine was close to fainting from indignation. He clamped his lips shut, vowing with every fiber of his being to NEVER reveal his wings again.
When the spider approached wearing a metallic, vicious smile that did not match his sacred, beautiful face, a shiver ran through Blaine.
“Hhat!”
No. No way. It couldn’t be. It mustn’t be.
But the moment Hurel reached out without a hint of hesitation and grabbed Blaine’s chest hard, a bolt of electricity shot up from the tips of his toes to the nape of his neck. Terrified, he realized the sensation felt familiar.
Ah… yes. It was the same overwhelming, dizzying feeling as when he’d been held helplessly in those arms—shaking, losing all reason, wings and antennae out, whimpering like a mess.
But… no. That couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t.
“N-no, not there!”
And when that white hand moved lower, tracing past his chest toward that plump, rounded bit of flesh sitting just beneath it, Blaine screamed purely out of survival instinct.
“Hani! What—what are you even talking about?! How could I run away and leave you like this?!”
“You sure do talk pretty.”
A perfect self-introduction, but Blaine had no idea.
“You’ve got it all wrong! I said I’d stay with you—I’d—ahhngh…”
“Then prove it.”
“Wh-what do I have to do for you to believe me…?”
The silver gleam floating in Hurel’s eyes was cold like a shard of ice. Tears welled in Blaine’s eyes as he stared into that frost. Then, swallowing hard, he rose shakily onto his knees.
“Hani… I already made up my mind to stay with you. How could I ever leave you when you’re hurt like this?”
“Then let’s go home together. Right now.”
“That’s…”
Maybe if he agreed, it would soothe the spider’s temper. Part of Blaine did want to give up on everything uncertain and simply return with Hurel. That desire quietly lived in a corner of his heart.
But he couldn’t.
No matter what, Blaine needed to meet the sage. He wanted to fix everything. Everything.
“Hani… according to General—”
“I said stop talking about that damned beetle.”
Why did he always scowl at the mention of such a loyal, gentle friend? Whatever the reason, Blaine had no room left to retreat. He continued firmly.
“…The sage healed a leg that had bent completely the wrong way. So maybe—maybe he can heal your leg too…!”
“Hah.”
The cold snort left Blaine speechless. He thought Hurel would be glad to hear it—so why did he look even angrier?
He couldn’t understand.
“I knew it. You want my leg fixed, and your stinger fixed, and then you’ll leave. Isn’t that it?”
“H-huh?”
Is that… what he thought?
Blaine stared blankly, unable to close his mouth as he rewound his own words and actions.
Yes—he had promised to stay by Hurel’s side, to take care of him because his legs were injured. Yes—he had cried stupidly in his arms at dawn, ashamed and terrified that he wouldn’t be accepted back at the Hive in this broken state.
And then it hit him like lightning.
Ah… this fragile boy must have been unbearably anxious. When the body weakens, the heart weakens too—wasn’t that what they said? His misunderstandings, his fear-driven extremes—they all made sense.
It was Blaine who had failed to notice his unease.
What mattered most now was reassuring this trembling, terrified spider.
Blaine’s expression hardened with determination.
“Hani, I’ll stay with you even after your leg is healed. I promise.”
“Anyone can say the words.”
“I can’t take out my heart to show you, so all I can do is say it. But…”
He swallowed.
“I swear it, Hani. I’ll stay by your side. I swear it on my wings.”
Among honeybees, swearing on one’s wings was a vow of a lifetime.
Hurel blinked, stunned, staring straight at Blaine.
“Whether your legs heal or not—I’ve already decided. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life. Same with my stinger. Even if I get it back, I won’t return to the Hive.”
Did the spider even know how immense a decision that was? It didn’t matter. Blaine had chosen it. He had no intention of changing his mind.
“Because… I…”
Blaine never finished the sentence.
Hurel crushed their lips together so hard it bordered on violent, tongue thrusting in, wrapping around Blaine’s, sucking it deep. His teeth grazed and nipped, trapping the tongue so it couldn’t flee, pressing the sensitive roof of Blaine’s mouth until sharp, electric pleasure surged with a dull ache beneath it.
When Blaine tried to pull away, Hurel scraped the slick surface of his tongue along him, keeping him captive.
The kiss wasn’t soft—wasn’t gentle—but when their wet lips finally parted with a sticky sound, Blaine felt a pang of longing.
“Bee-Bee, I love you.”
“A-ah… uh…”
His small wings peeked out from behind him with a flutter, trembling, but Blaine—face burning with humiliation—couldn’t move a single finger.
“If you even look like you’re going to run… your wings are mine.”
“Uuh… ahh…”
“No, even without that—you’re already mine. All of you. From head to toe, even a single strand of your hair. Got it?”
A low, throaty growl rumbled from deep in the predator’s chest, making Blaine’s eyes glaze and his body tremble.
Pathetically sprawled, wings fully exposed, every vulnerable point laid bare—he felt himself utterly conquered, and in that despairingly intense pleasure, he surrendered.
