AB Chapter 34: Fangs
"Impossible!"
The lonely interrogation room echoed with a voice raised in anger.
One table, three chairs, a desk lamp, a notebook, hot cocoa, and black tea.
Michel, pale-faced, growled at the stoic-looking Black male officer across from him and the red-haired White female officer. His lips were trembling slightly from rage.
"Simon would never do such a thing! He might look tall and intimidating with a scary aura, but he's a good person! Eric is the real scumbag—he’s been sending me threatening messages—"
The female officer interrupted flatly, “So, just like Eric Ellis said, he secretly returned to Chicago and deliberately frightened Eric Ellis to avenge you. That’s plausible, isn’t it?”
Michel clenched his fists suddenly, struggling to contain his fury as he retorted, “Where’s the evidence, officer? You do realize your words need proof, don’t you?”
His voice trembled with restraint. Michel had never been someone who caused trouble, and he definitely didn’t want to lose his temper with the police. That would just be stupid. But still—still——
When the female officer showed no response, and even smirked disdainfully after hearing his explanation, Michel felt like his heart and brain were about to explode.
He thought, even though Simon sometimes said shocking things and behaved differently from Earthlings, he’s a good person.
A good person!
Since appearing in my life, he’s never hurt me. In fact, he’s been careful and considerate, even doing household chores like a housewife.
He gave me the warmth of a family. He gave me hope.
He gave me a happiness I never dared to imagine...
Michel would never allow anyone to hurt Simon. He cared deeply about how others viewed him—he cared!
No matter how much he pretended to be calm before, the truth was undeniable—he liked Simon. He gradually fell for that clumsy bumblebee man.
They were lovers, family, and mutual support.
Even if there was no whirlwind romance, no dramatic entanglement, no love at first sight.
"Alright, calm down, Mr. Michel. We’re not trying to force you."
Seeing his emotional reaction, the Black male officer finally spoke. He smiled and pointed at the cold cocoa cup in front of Michel. “Have some water, sir, and then we’ll talk about where you were before the incident.”
Michel: “…”
That question again.
The same question they’d asked him at least ten times. Michel actually laughed in disbelief.
“I already told you! We were in Washington, in a hotel, asleep in the same bed! He was with me the next morning—we even had breakfast together! The hotel and restaurant have payment records.”
The female officer nodded. “Oh, but it only takes two hours to drive from Washington to Chicago. He could have gone there while you were sleeping, done something at the villa, and returned.”
Michel: “…” You’ve got to be f—kidding me——
He stared at the NY female officer. “So, the guy Eric assaulted—he said Simon dragged him into Eric’s bed, did he?”
Just as she was about to answer, the male officer shook his head. “No, he didn’t.”
Michel raised an eyebrow. “Then the fluid they found—that was Simon’s?”
He shook his head again. “Nope.”
“Caught on surveillance nearby?”
“No.”
“Witnesses?”
“None.”
Michel leaned back in his chair, sneering coldly at them.
“Then what the hell are you assuming for?”
Male officer: “…”
He looked genuinely surprised, clearly not expecting this clean-cut, well-behaved “good kid” to suddenly swear.
The female officer immediately frowned and slammed her notebook.
“Watch your language!”
Michel ignored her.
She said coldly, “Even though there’s no footage, Eric Ellis claimed it was him. We have the right to investigate. And how are you so sure the victim’s bodily fluids weren’t his?!”
“Because I know—” Michel raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and boldly declared, “He only gets hard for me.”
Female officer: “…”
Male officer: “…” Well, damn.
Behind the two-way mirror.
Simon pressed his hand against the glass. Hearing that sentence, he let out a low laugh.
The other officers in the observation room remained silent by the door. Only Auntie Molly, standing beside him, had a strange expression.
After a moment, Auntie Molly spoke softly, unsure who she was addressing: “Michel’s always been a good kid. Polite. He’s never blushed or argued like that before. Now he looks like a prickly delinquent.”
Simon stared at the pale, flustered young man in the room, the one with black-and-white eyes and a slim frame, and nodded.
He looked at him like he was gazing through a store window at an expensive, "not-for-sale" treasure.
More captivating than a dragon’s hoard.
Molly smiled faintly, then sighed: “What a shame… the first time he’s fought so hard for someone, swearing they’re innocent, it turns out to be a joke in the face of truth.”
Simon seemed not to hear her. He kept staring at his flower.
Praising him softly: “He’s so adorable.”
He still wore the bright, kind smile of a movie protagonist.
Molly, watching closely from the side, clenched her jaw.
“But you’re not a good person! Stay away from him, you bastard!”
She finally snapped, roaring like a mother lion baring her fangs.
This was no longer a police officer speaking—it was Michel’s aunt.
She had pulled that freezing, tiny baby from a human trafficking ring. Such a small, pitiful little thing, with eyes full of confusion.
She never opposed Michel having a family or a lover. In fact, she hoped he’d find happiness.
But this man in front of her—he wasn’t good.
He was a master of disguise.
When she shouted “stay away from him,” Simon’s smile faded slightly. He stopped looking at Michel and turned to face Molly.
His upright, naive expression peeled away, vanishing like old paint.
He towered over her, blocking out the light.
The glow behind him cast shadows on his face, and the only thing shining were his amber, beast-like eyes.
“No one can make me leave him.”
Simon stared at her blankly. “Even if my limbs are broken, I’ll crawl back to him.”
“You…”
Molly opened her mouth, but was unable to speak further. The other officers noticed the ominous shift in the room and looked over nervously.
Molly clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms, drawing pain—and courage. “But you're a monster! I can't—”
Simon: “Do you have any proof?”
Molly: “…”
Simon’s lips curled slightly. “You don’t.”
Molly: “…”
This alien bastard—!
She shook with rage.
Simon added calmly, “My feelings for Michel—for my flower—have always been real. The smiles, the awkwardness, the foolishness… all real. A drone would never lie to his flower.”
Hah? Molly was about to scoff—until Simon’s smile disappeared completely.
“But, to humans—yes. To everyone except our flower—yes.”
He bit off each word, his lips curled in a grin devoid of humor, his yellow-brown eyes staring down at Molly like a predator mocking prey.
“With them, a drone can be a worthless dog. But to you… we’re the ones putting you on the dinner plate.”
“There’s no contradiction. Not one bit.”
His eyes slid over the now visibly shaken woman, then locked once more on the youth in the interrogation room. Simon tilted his head, whispering to himself:
“Something beautiful… to keep it safe from evil, it must be protected by something more evil.”
“I love him.”
“He loves me too… we’re almost done here. The questioning’s nearly over. We’ll go home soon. Michel and I will be together again…”
“How wonderful…”
“Don’t you think so?”
He smiled.
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