Coveted After Becoming a Monster [Quick Transmigration] 2

Chapter 2

“Professor Ji, the sample you required has been collected.”

A respectful voice spoke. Looking out through the intricately patterned glass, Li An saw the woman who had just brought her away. The woman had placed her helmet beside her and was leaning against the control console in the ship’s cabin.

The person who spoke stood respectfully opposite her, appearing to be her subordinate.

Hearing this, the woman nodded and said succinctly, “Then let’s head back.”

At these words, the person’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Though their head was still bowed toward the floor, it was clear they had breathed a sigh of relief. They hurriedly said, “I’ll go make the arrangements right away.”

“Professor, if you need anything in the future, just have someone notify me. I’ll have it sent to the research institute. These places are still too chaotic. If you were to get hurt…”

The rest of the ominous words were swallowed. The person continued, “All our hopes rest on you.”

Despite such exaggerated words, the person called Professor Ji showed no reaction whatsoever. In contrast, Li An, inside the glass jar, couldn’t listen anymore. She looked from one person to the other, and her peach-pink tentacles, pressed against the glass wall, curled, silently trying to scratch out an imaginary three-bedroom apartment on the glass.

Based on the fragmented machine voice from before and the conversation between the two, Li An finally had a rough understanding of this world.

A hundred years ago, the planet’s climate had grown severe. Flash floods, tsunamis, and constant earthquakes drastically reduced humanity’s living space. Then, plants and animals began to mutate, dealing another heavy blow. At the most perilous time, the surviving population was less than a million, nearly driving the species to extinction.

Fortunately, the emergence of the Research Institute gave humanity a sliver of hope. Through constant struggle against the mutated species, they established thirteen safe zones. As a result, the Research Institute held an extremely high status here.

And this Professor Ji before her, full name Ji Yulin, was not only a member of the institute but had also assumed an important position at a young age. Furthermore, she was the target Li An was meant to save on this mission.

But right now, it was Ji Yulin who had rescued her from the dangerous sea, and it was very likely she would be treated as an experimental subject, sliced up for research.

The little octopus unconsciously rolled over, its eight tentacles still pressed tightly against the glass wall. Although she didn’t know when she might be dissected, Ji Yulin was treating her quite well for now. She had added some kind of solution to the jar, and the pain from her severed tentacle had vanished and was even beginning to heal slowly.

Thinking of this, Li An glanced at her useless tentacles again. Their previous intense craving for the glass jar now made sense.

It was a behavior etched into an octopus’s genetic code. They loved to hide in small, hollow containers. This very habit was exploited by fishermen, who would string together bottles and jars, toss them into the sea, and simply wait for octopuses to crawl into the traps one by one.

Just like how Li An had been caught by Ji Yulin earlier.

Li An rolled over again and tried to call the system in her mind, but was met with only silence.

A round, chubby tentacle lifted and couldn’t help but tap the wall of the jar.

At this thought, Li An sighed quietly and looked up at the two people again.

This is the target the system’s mission described as a little white flower?

Supposedly, she’s a pitiful fool who devotes herself to humanity, experimenting day and night, only to be betrayed, framed for plagiarism, and finally thrown to the beasts.

A trace of pity appeared in her sapphire-like eyes. At the same time, two tentacles reached up, stuck their suckers to the lid, and began to slowly turn it.

Although she and her tentacles were very fond of this jar, her life was more important. The thought of what might become of her sent a silent shiver through Li An.

The mission was important, but she had to save her own skin first.

She had already figured it out. The system mission didn’t say she had to stay with Ji Yulin the whole time, only that she had to help Ji Yulin escape the human base. So, if she just waited until Ji Yulin was about to be thrown out and then rescued her, wouldn’t that be a perfect completion of the mission?

Li An faintly sensed the reason for her previous mission failures, but the tentacles pushing the lid didn’t pause for a second.

When the last thread of the screw was undone, the little octopus carefully observed the two people. Seeing that Ji Yulin was still talking to the other person, she used her suckers to cling tightly to the lid, gently pushed it halfway open, and then squeezed her body through the gap.

Her other tentacles were still reluctant to leave, leaving behind a trail of transparent mucus on the glass jar.

Li An could only comfort them silently, telling them they would have many more beautiful jars in the future.

From the moment she had uncontrollably dived into the jar, Li An had vaguely guessed that her tentacles possessed some degree of consciousness.

She wasn’t surprised. Normally, an octopus has nine brains: a main brain in its head for overall control and decision-making.

The other subordinate brains are hidden in its eight tentacles, which can independently handle the tentacles’ movements and sensory information. But perhaps due to the mutation, the subordinate brains in this body were weakened. Only when the jar appeared could she feel their desire and their rush toward it, uncontrolled by the main brain.

Additionally, an octopus should have three hearts, but Li An didn’t know if a mutated octopus still did. She didn’t dare to test it herself. What if she only had one left…

As she pondered, the little octopus had already climbed out of the glass jar. As the last tentacle left the glass, she thought she heard a collective sigh from her tentacles, as if they had lost their most beloved lover.

Li An felt sad too. She gave the jar one last look and silently vowed that she would find an even more beautiful glass jar, preferably one made of gemstones.

Sapphire would be nice, the same color as my eyes. Pink would be good too…

Silently, the little octopus changed to the same color as the control console. She even carefully controlled the liquid clinging to her body so as not to leave the slightest trace on the surface.

The two people were still talking. Li An vaguely heard bits and pieces, probably about their current mission.

But Li An’s nerves were on high alert right now; she had no mind to listen carefully. Her tentacles moved silently across the console. She recalled seeing a drain opening when Ji Yulin brought her in. It was just right for her to slip into. Once they left this sea region, Li An could sneak back into the ocean.

Her tentacles stretched and contracted, her round, chubby head nearly flattened into a pancake. Just as Li An was about to touch the edge, a fingertip suddenly pressed down.

Huh?!

Her gem-like eyes flew open, and she looked over in disbelief.

The first thing she saw was a slender finger. Her skin was pale from spending years in a laboratory, so pale that the blue and purple veins were visible beneath the thin skin. It looked delicate yet resilient, like a slender willow branch, firmly pinning the octopus’s tentacle beneath the pad of her finger.

Li An’s head shrank back. Is this a coincidence or…

She peeked over and saw the woman’s slim back still leaning against the console, not a single glance cast in her direction.

Li An held her breath. Another tentacle stealthily reached out to the side, and immediately, another finger pressed down, pinning that tentacle firmly in place.

Li An: …

That settled it.

The last shred of hope was extinguished. The little octopus flopped down, not even bothering to maintain her camouflage, like a hopeless octopus pancake on a griddle. Only then did she have the mind to listen to what they were saying.

“…The mission is almost over. The hunting squad should be back soon,” said the person opposite Ji Yulin.

Ji Yulin didn’t respond, her eyes sweeping over a screen.

The person quickly added, “In previous years, the coastal areas were frequently attacked by sea beasts, with a beast tide erupting every three years. Thankfully, the institute developed new weapons and dispatched border defense squads to clear the surrounding coast annually. That’s how we’ve maintained five years of peace.”

“The nearby residents are very grateful to the institute. They’ve already prepared meals and gifts for the border defense squad. Professor, will you be joining them later?”

“Everyone would be delighted by your presence.”

Ji Yulin still didn’t answer. It was clear she had a very cold personality. Her thick, half-lowered lashes were like crow feathers, hiding deep, indifferent obsidian eyes. Perhaps it was this aloofness that kept everyone at a distance, lending even her stunning features a sharp chill.

The person waited a moment, then peeked up again. Not daring to look for long, they quickly lowered their head, muttering to themself that this Professor Ji really was as unapproachable as the rumors said. They had been flattering her for so long but had only received a few perfunctory grunts in return.

Li An listened for a bit, got the gist of it, and then gave up. It was just one bit of flattery after another. She couldn’t be bothered to pay any more attention. Instead, her tentacles, having been pinned for a while, began to act up.

The crow-feather lashes fluttered, and the previously bored-looking woman’s expression shifted slightly.

The unpinned tentacles had crept closer. Their rounded tips first prodded tentatively, touching her fingertip and leaving behind a thin layer of mucus, before brazenly wrapping around it.

Ji Yulin didn’t stop it, so the little octopus grew bolder.

One by one, the tentacles wrapped around her hand, encasing all five fingers. Through the occasional gaps, one could see the round marks left by the suckers, which, combined with the glistening mucus, gave off a strangely decadent quality.

The display screen beside them still reflected the scene under the sea. The one-sided slaughter was about to end. Sand and coral churned in the water, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Only mangled limbs and clouds of blood could be seen swirling about. Faintly, a few human figures could be spotted collecting the corpses of the beasts.

Just as the little octopus had predicted, they weren’t letting anything go, big or small.

In this eerie calm, no one noticed that the darkness that had silently devoured the giant turtle was now spreading at a terrifying speed. The falling flesh and blood were all disappearing. From a distance, it was as if it were competing with the humans for the corpses. But the churning tide obscured their vision, preventing anyone from noticing right away, and so it continued to spread unchecked.

In the ship’s cabin, the little octopus, yet to be punished, was still making trouble.

Her suckers pressed against the delicate skin, not daring to use too much force, while also trying to pull the fingers up. This made the tentacles’ movements slow and gentle, looking less like a struggle and more like a clingy plea.

Tighter and tighter, higher and higher, the trail of mucus grew, drenching the knuckles. It almost dripped, but was pressed back by the tentacles. The suckers rested against her pulse, and the usually imperceptible throb of her heartbeat could not escape their perception.

—Drip.

The mucus finally dripped onto the metal console. The little octopus, which had been pinned down, had now almost wrapped its entire body around Ji Yulin’s hand, except for the tips of the two pinned tentacles.

It was impossible to tell if it was trying to escape or to curry favor.

Ji Yulin’s gaze fell, fixed on the audacious little creature.

Li An didn’t know what she was thinking, but she felt a sort of pitying fondness for this poor little white flower who would be betrayed by humanity. So her movements were extremely gentle, almost like a form of coquetry.

Let me go, human.

When you’re abandoned by everyone, I’ll find you.

A tentacle touched her palm, lightly hooking the lifeline that was broken midway, signing an unknown contract with an unseen fate.

—BANG!

The cabin suddenly lurched violently. After the loud noise, the screen reflecting the seabed flashed blood-red. A terrified voice came through the damaged communicator.

“There’s a monster… Ah!”

The words were cut off by a scream. The fine net, considered their greatest asset, suddenly erupted in a white light. Only now did they realize it had boundaries. In the four cardinal directions, ships had been holding the giant net. But now, the ships and the net were overturned together, plunging into the sea.

The one-sided slaughter had not ended; the blade had merely turned to the other side.