The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 92 - Golden syrup

Loud clicking sounds echoed around him, sharp and echoing like bone on stone. Jian's consciousness stirred from the dark, dragged upward by a searing pain across his forehead. He winced. Something cold and wet was stroking the gash on his temple, and the sensation made his skin crawl. It felt like jelly and rot. He wanted to recoil, but his limbs felt heavy—numb and useless.

The clicking grew more intense, but strangely... clearer. He could make out words, or impressions of words, the strange alien language weaving into something understandable in his aching mind.

{"The blood test came out. This is the missing Farian!"}

{"He looks half dead... weak. Farians are not this weak!"}

Jian's breath caught in his throat. Farian? What were they saying? Was that what they thought he was?

Slowly, he opened his eyes a sliver. He was in a metallic room, dimly lit with a greenish-blue glow. The walls shimmered like oil on water, pulsating with energy. Two towering creatures hovered by his side—octopus-like, just like the one from the road. Their skin was slick and a sickly black-blue, their beady eyes fixed on some glowing tablet between them, clicking rapidly in that strange tongue.

Fear coiled in Jian's gut. Shit... the aliens.

He snapped his eyes shut just as one of the creatures leaned over him again. More clicking followed.

{"Shall we dissect him and send his heart to the Farians? That will teach them not to interfere in our conquest."}

Jian's body stiffened beneath the sheets.

{"Let's just wait until the General gets here," one replied, clicking excitedly. "Click click... I can't wait to dig into the golden flesh. I heard they taste like golden syrup."

{"Want a taste tooooo..."}

Their voices, despite being made of harsh sounds, were full of morbid excitement. Jian's heart pounded so loudly in his chest, he feared they would hear it.

They're going to eat me... his mind whispered, panic overtaking pain. They're actually planning to eat me.

He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself not to make a sound. Every breath felt like fire in his chest, and fear crawled down his spine like ants. No... I can't die. Not like this. Not now.

His grandfather's kind, wrinkled face flashed through his mind. The old man wiping his shoes, telling him to have a good day. Jian swallowed hard. I have to survive. I have to protect Grandpa. I can't leave him alone in that house...

He opened his eyes slowly, just in time to see the two monsters lumber out of the room, still arguing about how different parts of his body might taste—his arms, his liver, even his tongue. Their grotesque conversation faded into the hallway, the clicking echoing behind them.

Jian was alone. But he wasn't safe. He needed a plan—fast.

The hum of alien machinery filled the silence, and Jian turned his head slightly, wincing. The metallic restraints on his arms had loosened—just slightly. But maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

He let out a trembling breath. They think I'm weak. Let them think it a little longer.

Jian clenched his right fist tightly, the loosened shackle biting into his wrist. His eyes stayed shut, breaths shallow, pretending once again to be unconscious. He heard them return—the squelching steps, the wet clicking of limbs against metal. The sound scraped along his nerves like knives.

{"The Farian young is weak. It would be fun to torture him."}

The air thickened with a sudden, suffocating fear. Jian felt his muscles lock in terror. A cold, gelatinous touch gripped his side and flipped him over like a rag doll. He landed with a wet thud, and a sharp snap echoed in the room as a large injection device was pressed hard into his shoulder.

He had no time to prepare. The needle drove deep.

Then—

Agony.

It tore through him like liquid fire. Jian screamed. His voice cracked, echoed off the cold metal walls, raw and desperate. His back arched against the table as the injection sent something foreign spiraling through his veins. His vision swam with black dots, and he bit into his tongue, blood flooding his mouth.

Then came the second pain—deeper, more violating.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

A mechanical device, sharp and jagged, was jammed into his neck with another squelching sound. His body convulsed as it drilled in, burning his spine, nerves, everything.

"Aghhh!!!!"

The scream was torn from him, primal and desperate.

His ears rang. He could barely breathe, barely think.

{"The sensor works. Now their kind will all feel what he feels... shall we begin?"}

The clicking was almost joyous. Giddy.

Jian's throat felt raw. He was shaking all over, his blood hot and metallic, his vision dim. He wasn't sure if he was dying or just being carved apart from the inside. He wanted to cry, but there were no tears left in him.

Then—

A slick tentacle dragged slowly across the back of his bleeding neck. Jian flinched, the cold sting another cut against already seared skin.

{"Hmm... tastes so sweet. Why does the Farian kind taste so good?"}

His stomach churned. A sob rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back. No... No more weakness.

Then a small bell rang. A high-pitched chime that echoed through the chamber.

{"General's calling... he won't die right?"}

{"Nah. The Farians can heal..."}

Their voices faded as they slithered away. The door slid shut behind them with a hiss.

Silence. But not peace.

Jian lay still, shivering, his breath rattling in his chest. He could feel the sensor throbbing in his neck, like a parasite.

They connected me to something.

With trembling effort, he twisted his right wrist. The shackle scraped, then slid off with a quiet metallic clink. The metal had loosened just enough for his slender wrist to slip through. He didn't wait.

His hand—slick with blood and sweat—reached for the other restraint. He dug his fingers under the edge and yanked with everything he had. The jagged edges bit into his palm, slicing through skin, but he didn't stop. With a strained grunt and a sickening snap, the shackle gave way.

His hands were free.

Barely able to sit up, he staggered to his feet, wincing as cold air kissed his open wounds. His knees buckled for a moment, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself forward. His breath came in heavy gasps.

He reached the door. Slowly, cautiously, he peered out.

The hallway was vast and sterile—made entirely of gleaming, silvery metal. The walls pulsed faintly, almost as if the ship itself were breathing.

He looked down at his bloody hands, then at the walls. If he was going to escape, he needed to test everything.

He raised a finger, charged it with a little of that strange strength deep in his bones, and jabbed lightly at the wall.

Thud.

It didn't give. Not even a dent.

Strange... he thought, this is no ordinary metal.

The realization hit him like another wave of ice. This place was built to hold things like me.

Jian's legs trembled as he leaned against the doorframe. Golden Blood still dripped from the gash on his forehead and the fresh cuts on his hands. The device in his neck pulsed again, sending tiny stabs of pain through his spine. He clenched his jaw.

"I won't die here," he whispered hoarsely. "Not like this."