1.
My name is Nguyễn Nhuyễn.
I’m an E-rank Alpha.
In other words, the lowest-rank Alpha…
But the wife I married is the only S-rank Omega in the past hundred years.
The only S-rank, period.
“Ding-dong.” The doorbell rang.
“My wife’s home!” I hurried to the door.
We hadn’t seen each other in half a month. I missed her so much.
The door opened from the outside, and the Marshal stepped in.
She looked cold and stern, and there was blood on her uniform. Judging by the color, it belonged to the insectoids.
I thoughtfully helped my wife take off her coat.
I asked solicitously, “Honey, are you hurt?”
The Marshal glanced down at me without answering.
As if I’d just asked a pointless question.
Fair enough. Who could possibly hurt her?
Alphas and Omegas are strictly ranked according to their mental strength.
The ranks are S, A, B, C, D, and E.
Anyone capable of hurting an S-rank must not have been born yet.
Besides, my wife’s physique is more Alpha than an Alpha’s.
Broad shoulders, a slim waist, long legs—strong and healthy, with outstanding combat skills.
Though she’s an Omega, no Alpha in the military fails to respect her.
I solicitously helped the Marshal along.
“Honey, I’ve got your bath ready. The water’s just the right temperature.”
I carried out the ideal arrangement of “Alpha takes care of the home, Omega takes care of the country.”
She gave me an approving look and nodded.
“Well done.”
Then she went into the bathroom.
Leaving me waiting outside the door.
In these troubled times, everyone likes to find a strong partner. It feels safer that way.
As a weak female Alpha, I’m no exception.
Who could be stronger than the Marshal? No one!
And with a 99% compatibility rate, we were clearly destined for each other. She was irresistible to me, too.
Looking back, I fell for her at first sight, was in love by the second, and wanted to marry her by the third.
People might say I was a frog at the bottom of a well trying to eat swan meat, but I had no shame.
I was going to have her anyway.
Through the crack in the door, I could just barely smell her hormones.
A faint, cool cedar scent.
As if on cue, I knocked on the bathroom door:
“Does my sweet-smelling wife need a towel?”
(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)◞
“Come in.”
…
2.
Three hours later, she came out of the bathroom.
The usually cold and aloof Marshal had a faint blush on her face.
I’d changed into a fresh outfit, too.
Well, you know.
I’m exhausted. I need to refuel.
I went to the dining table. The food was still hot, ready for my wife.
“Honey, come eat.”
I wolfed down my food while the Marshal ate slowly.
Graceful ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ.
After dinner, I went “thump, thump, thump” to the drawer and took out a gift box.
I pushed it in front of her.
“What is it?”
“Open it and see.” I urged her on.
The Marshal opened it. Inside was a set of silver soft armor. It was supple and lightweight, but so densely woven that even a laser gun couldn’t penetrate it.
I explained, “This is an upgraded version, with improved flexibility and protection. It’ll fit you better and keep you safer.”
The Marshal’s lips curled up, and at last she smiled.
“I love it.”
My combat ability is so weak that an E-rank Alpha isn’t even qualified to go to the battlefield.
I don’t have much to do at home, so I just tinker with things.
For example, I sewed all those bear-shaped throw pillows around the house myself.
And the delivery robots flying everywhere these days? I designed the first generation.
In a battle where she was outnumbered, my wife was unfortunately shot in the left side of her chest by a laser gun. It wasn’t life-threatening, but it broke my heart.
So I researched and made this soft armor. It’s one of a kind on the market—there’s only one.
3.
The war my Marshal led ended in a resounding victory.
Two days later, she was summoned to the Capitol to give a speech and receive a medal.
I took the opportunity to visit the military base, too.
I wanted to check whether anything was wrong with her tank.
Before changing careers, I was a tank repair engineer, so I know a thing or two.
When I got to the base, I looked at the imposing tank in front of me.
I carefully checked which wires were broken, what needed maintenance, and where the design could be improved.
I wrote down everything that needed attention.
Some parts could only be made from rare materials.
I’d have to make a trip to the materials market.
I drove to a large materials shop.
As I crouched down to examine some materials, someone threw a vegetable at my head.
I brushed it off and saw the people around me pointing at me.
“That’s the Marshal’s wife. She looks just like she does on TV.”
“She’s so pretty. She doesn’t look like an Alpha at all!”
“I’ve never even heard of an E-rank Alpha.”
“She looks so frail. No wonder the Marshal still doesn’t have any children.”
Someone started it by throwing a piece of a vegetable at me, then screeched, “Get away from the Marshal!”
“That’s right! Divorce the Marshal and let someone else take your place!”
“Replace her! Replace her!”
…
The crowd suddenly grew agitated.
Luckily, the bodyguards protected me, so I wasn’t hurt.
Still, I hadn’t found the materials I wanted, so I had no choice but to go back.
On the way home, I opened my phone and saw a news alert.
[Shocking! A 99%-compatible couple, but infertile—the Marshal’s Alpha wife is helpless!]
I kept reading. The entire article claimed there was something wrong with my fertility.
If they didn’t replace me, I’d hold back the whole country.
To make their evidence more convincing, they even attached a medical report showing that the Marshal’s reproductive organs were 100% normal.
An entertainment blogger quickly posted a photo of my face.
They even analyzed my facial features and concluded I was born with the face of someone who couldn’t have children.
4.
I returned to the Marshal’s residence in low spirits.
I gently pushed the door open.
The Marshal was sitting cross-legged on the sofa.
Her profile was flawless, cold, imposing, and noble—untouchably distant.
That was the air of nobility, so different from me, who’d grown up without much guidance.
I suddenly felt inferior.
A comment suddenly came to mind: “The Marshal has better options.”
The Marshal noticed me and looked my way.
She asked, “What are you looking at?”
I walked over and showed her my phone.
On it was the news story: [Shocking! A 99%-compatible couple, but infertile—the Marshal’s Alpha wife is helpless!]
After he finished reading, his gaze turned dangerous. He crushed the phone in his hand.
The crackling sound made me jump.
I hesitated. “Maybe… we should get a divorce?”
He looked up at me coldly.
“Tonight, we’ll try one more time.”
5
Early the next morning, I rubbed my lower back and took a big gulp of goji berry water.
It wasn’t just one more time.
It was one time after another.
The Marshal got up calmly, full of energy.
Meanwhile, I lay sprawled on the bed, dark circles under my eyes, completely dejected.
My eyes were bleary, and tears welled up.
I said pitifully, “We can’t keep going at it like this. I really don’t have any strength left.”
The Marshal lowered her head and glanced at me, parting her thin lips.
“Useless.”
Oh, come on!
Don’t say that about me.
I’m an Alpha. I have my pride, too, you know!
I rolled around on the bed in protest.
She said again, “Get up. Starting today, you’re coming with me to the second base. While I was away for a month, did you train? Why is your stamina worse than before?”
I froze and stopped rolling around.
“Huh?”
I never liked exercising.
If I could sit, I wouldn’t stand; if I could lie down, I wouldn’t sit.
I’d perfected laziness.
I’d stuck with it for a whole year.
And now she wanted to make me exercise?
I burrowed under the covers, determined to become one with the bed.
The Marshal gave a soft snort, came over, and pulled me out.
“Help! Murder!”
I fought back. I refused to go.
In the end, she dragged me out, and I obediently got into the car.
6
Actually, I was pretty happy she was taking me out.
After last night, I’d gotten a better sense of the Marshal’s intentions.
She wanted to have a child with me, didn’t she?
Even though I was still being criticized by people online,
it really affected my mood and left me a little down.
But her determination had eased my gloom considerably.
That is, until she took me to the large training ground at the second headquarters.
My mood turned gloomy all over again.
ヽ(`Д´)ﾉ
The Marshal pointed at the training ground.
“Twenty laps. I’ll check on you in an hour.”
Her voice was a warm 37°C, but her words were colder than 0°C.
Cold enough to freeze my heart.
Then she called over a soldier and told him to make sure I ran all twenty laps.
Twenty laps. I was going to die.
The heavens were out to get me.
After the Marshal left, I started running at the soldier’s urging.
After the first lap, I was tired.
After the second lap, I was dead tired.
After the third lap, the soldier got a stomachache and ran off to the bathroom!
Clutching his stomach, he said, “Keep running. Don’t stop.”
“Okay.”
I obediently kept running without stopping for even a second… and then slipped away.
Whoever wanted to stay at this damn training ground could stay.
I was already exhausted from last night. If I ran any more, I’d be done for.
I knew my way around headquarters, but I had no idea where anything was at the second headquarters.
After wandering around for a while, I reached the engineering room.
From a distance, I heard an engineer berating a technician.
“What kind of repair job is this? The robot’s legs are fine now, but its arms aren’t moving smoothly. How are we supposed to work efficiently like this?”
Technicians had always been highly respected.
It was rare for anyone to raise their voice at them like that.
The technician snapped back,
“Without good materials, there’s nothing I can do. Come back when you’ve found some high-grade materials. If you’re not satisfied, find someone else.”
The engineer was so angry his chest heaved, but he could only swallow his anger.
After all, the only thing engineers could rely on—the robots—could only be repaired by technicians.
“There’s no such thing as bad materials, only bad technique.”
With that, I slowly walked over.
The engineer looked surprised. “Who are you?”
“Could I take a look?”
The engineer hesitated for a few seconds, then handed me the robot.
The technician sneered from the side,
“I’m a Grade A technician, and even I couldn’t fix it. What makes you think you can? Don’t try to show off in front of an expert. If you break it, you won’t be able to pay for it.”
I ignored him and focused on inspecting the robot.
I’d worked in a robot repair shop before. A problem like this was simple for me. One look was all it took to see that the power core had come loose—a tiny issue.
I picked up a tool, made a few clanking adjustments, and finished the job.
It took less than a minute.
“You’re done already?” The engineer looked at me.
At my signal, he climbed into the robot and swung its arms around a few times.
He exclaimed excitedly, “It’s fixed! There’s nothing wrong with it. It moves even more smoothly than when it was first finished.”
The engineer jumped down and raised a hand to stop me.
“Wait. I’ve called a few more colleagues over. Could you help them out, too?”
Before long, engineers had taken over the engineering room. One after another, they brought over their robots and lined up to ask me to repair them.
Meanwhile, though they weren’t happy about it, the technicians gathered around to observe my techniques and work.
Some even took out notebooks to write things down.
After I’d finished with that batch of robots, the engineering team leader was so excited he even put an arm around my shoulder and gave me a thumbs-up.
“You’re amazing! There’s hardly anyone in the whole country as skilled as you. Are you a senior technician who just joined us? You’ve helped us so much today. I have to thank you properly. How about a drink sometime?”
After all that praise, and with everyone being so warm toward me, it was hard to turn him down.
I giggled. “Sure.”
“Would you dare?”
A familiar, icy voice rang out.
I froze, then turned around stiffly.
Sure enough, the Marshal had come to drag me back.
I trembled a little.
“D-Darling.”