The Genetic Matching Act

More than twenty-three thousand years ago, humanity was pushed to the brink of extinction by a cascade of natural disasters and wars. The beastkin, with their superior physical capabilities, rose rapidly and took the dominant position. But there was a problem: mental aptitude was their obvious weak point. So they launched all kinds of research, trying to bring that up to par. They succeeded—sort of. Mental power did improve, but it came with a “buy one, get one free” bonus: a genetic disorder. And it was highly selective, targeting only male beastkin with developed mental abilities. I scrolled further down the file. The explanation was, in a way, “reasonable”: at the time, society regarded male beastkin as the primary combat force and pioneers. Combined with the belief that their physiology could better withstand genetic modification, the first wave of test subjects was almost entirely male. And that’s where the problem began. The higher a male beastkin’s mental power, the more unstable it became. The more it was used, the greater the risk of losing control. Once it triggered—it was a double collapse: mental breakdown and physical loss of control. In the end, they would undergo full bestialization, their reason wiped out, reverting to a primal state. A chill crept up my spine as I read. I kept going. Most female beastkin, back then, hadn’t been forcibly “enhanced” and had effectively dodged the bullet. Their mental abilities developed more steadily. Although high-level aptitude was rarer among them, they were also free from the genetic disorder. Meanwhile, high-aptitude males found it increasingly difficult to produce offspring, and the empire’s population began to plummet off a cliff. It wasn’t that they hadn’t tried artificial embryo cultivation—but the results were even more absurd. Because of the genetic disorder, most artificially bred individuals struggled to awaken any mental power at all, and their lifespans were generally short. That generation only made things worse. It wasn’t until several hundred years later that a group of scientists and physicians finally identified the key: The stabilizing effect of female mental energy could suppress the psychic upheaval in male beastkin. I stared at the screen in silence for three seconds, then kept scrolling. And just like that, the so-called “strongest matchmaking law in the galaxy”—the Federal Population and Genetic Matching Act—came into existence. It was personally overseen by Aegis Prime. Any woman over eighteen and in good health would be automatically matched. There was no option to refuse. To compensate women for their “contribution,” the system would automatically transfer half of the male’s assets to the female. In return, the match was forcibly bound for ten years—to prevent anyone from taking the money and running. I kept scrolling. Then I hit the most ridiculous clause yet. Because high-aptitude female beastkin were rare, while high-aptitude males were relatively more common, it wasn’t unusual for one woman to be matched with multiple men. And, for the sake of some so-called “delicate balance,” those male matches were kept completely unaware of each other’s existence. I stared at that line, and went very, very still. Right. Great. Fantastic. Out of sheer curiosity, I clicked into a few “multi-match experience sharing” threads. At first, it was fairly normal—things like “how to allocate your time efficiently,” “mastering time management,” “99 perfect excuses to dodge conflicts.” But as I scrolled further, things took a sharp turn. The discussions shifted into… how to manage relationships between multiple partners. Yeah. Definitely not territory a “pure and innocent girl” like me should be exploring. My face flushed bright red. I fumbled and slammed the page shut. Deep breath. Calm down. So—my five matches don’t know about each other. If this ever gets exposed… if those five big shots, each completely unaware of the others, suddenly realize they’re all sharing the same “matched female”— The image barely formed in my mind before I forcefully cut it off. At that point, I probably wouldn’t even have a complete set of ashes left. I’d be lucky not to be split into five portions and scattered separately. “No. Nope. Absolutely not.” I shot upright, clenching my fists, my mind clearer than it had ever been. “Military academy. I have to get into a military academy.” Only by hiding within the protection of that system—lying low, building strength, and waiting until I’m powerful enough to change my identity and disappear—do I stand a chance of surviving. This place, Null Terra… I can’t stay here another day. I kept browsing the galactic net, flipping through more posts about genetic matching. Before I knew it, dawn was breaking. Only then, reluctantly satisfied, did I finally drift off to sleep. I woke up the next day because I was starving. The first thing I did after opening my eyes was check the time—4 p.m. already. Strange. The staff hadn’t come knocking to remind me to check out? I had only paid for one night. Just as the thought crossed my mind, a sudden commotion rose from the street outside. My chest tightened. I quickly rolled out of bed, rushed to the window, and pulled the curtain open just a crack to look across the street. In front of the Eclipse Crown Hotel, a whole line of small luxury flyers was parked, nearly filling the entire street. Kade stood there with several others, positioned dead center in front of the main craft. Looks like Cassian really is leaving. A surge of secret delight shot through me. I didn’t even dare blink, my eyes locked on the scene outside. Before long, the hotel’s revolving doors slid open. A figure stepped out—short auburn hair catching the morning light, glowing with a soft sheen. Kade moved to open the car door for him. Just as he was about to get in, he paused ever so slightly, then lifted his gaze with casual indifference. Those narrow eyes swept lazily across the distance—yet somehow, it felt like they cut straight through dozens of meters, through the slit in my curtain, landing on me with pinpoint precision. Holy! The thought exploded in my head. My body reacted on pure instinct—I jerked back, pressing myself against the wall, my heart pounding wildly. No way. Does he actually notice me? Is his mental power basically a radar or something?!