After Being Parasiticized By A Monster - Chapter 45

Chapter 45: “I Accept You.”

A Conversation at the Summit

At the 299th floor of the Institute of Biological Research—the highest accessible point of the Defense Center—a strange conversation was taking place.

In a spacious office overlooking the vast ocean, a woman named Chu Lanying sat with one leg crossed, elegantly facing the sea. She was idly playing with a small, round seashell, the size of a fingernail, which eventually rolled off her fingers with a click.

She was communicating with someone far away, a mission vessel returning from a “fishing” expedition.

“Why did you turn yourselves in? What do you plan to do?” she asked the distant party, the question carrying a biological nuance: Are you ready for self-sacrifice? “Did you leave your daughter behind?”

After discussing strategy, which included her choosing a time, she added:

“Not this month. She’s not ready yet.”

A sudden burst of static and sound erupted from the communicator—not human speech, but a complex noise of whale song and air bubbles, expressing urgent questions, anger, and finally, a sorrowful lament.

Translated, the essence of the message was:

“Are you paving the way for her? Do you treat her as your daughter?” “We are your kin.” “Leader.”

…

The Genetic Truth

Meanwhile, on the 187th floor of the North Building, Cheng Ming sat in her office, staring silently at the results of her genetic sequence analysis.

Using her new clearance, she had secretly copied all the necessary genetic data. The result of her analysis was a chilling three-way split: her normal human genome, fragments highly similar to the Flotage-Flower Algal Fungus (Little Ming’s supposed species), and a third segment matched to a species code MM—which she deduced was the Security Department’s code for Mermaid (Mermaid).

Despite repeating the complex single-cell sequencing using samples from various parts of her body, the results were unchanged.

The fact was undeniable: Little Ming couldn’t be separated from her. Every part of it was embedded in her, and every part of her was a fusion of these three lifeforms.

What kind of composite being was she?

The absurd reality made her want to laugh and throw up. She was an incubator, her entire body a host for a monster that was now genetically inseparable from her.

Her stomach churned. Every cell seemed to burn with an overwhelming nausea.

Little Ming had been silent, observing her host’s emotional breakdown. Finally, it broke the silence with a cool, hurt voice: “You can’t accept it? I thought you were already used to me.”

“That’s two different things,” Cheng Ming replied, staring at the cold, rational lines of the phylogenetic tree on the screen.

Accepting a monster as a passenger was fundamentally different from accepting that she herself had been genetically transformed into one. She realized the horrifying implication: even if Little Ming’s consciousness were erased, its genes were so integrated that it could effectively be reborn through her body.

“You’re more terrifying than nuclear radiation,” she whispered. Nuclear radiation only damaged DNA; Little Ming had embedded its own genes into hers, ensuring its lineage through her for generations.

Clutching the shell pendant, she closed her eyes, her mind screaming: If my mother, Cheng Ran, orchestrated this, did she know this would happen? Did she use me as an experiment?

The question shattered the defensive wall she had built around her mother’s memory.

“Do you want to kill me?” Little Ming asked.

“…No.”

“Do you hate me?”

“…No.”

“Then why is it so hard to accept?”

Cheng Ming’s final, raw answer was: “I’m scared.”

She laughed softly, tears hidden in the dark reflection of the computer screen. “You see? You can understand me, you want to understand me, but you can never truly understand me.”

Little Ming sounded genuinely hurt, finally articulating its vulnerability: “I didn’t want this. I couldn’t decide my origin, my form, or if I had to use you as a host… And I can’t decide to make you unafraid of me.”

After a long silence, Cheng Ming sighed, her voice low and clear as she gently stroked her own cheek.

“Yes, so don’t be sad.”

“I accept you.”

I accept myself.