Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 9

"Primo," Margaret said slowly in her mind. "Guess what those three assholes will do when they find out I'm actually S-class."

"I don't know," Primo replied after a moment of thought. "But I think your match list will change a lot. You might even get better options."

"Better options," Margaret repeated the phrase and laughed out loud. "Primo, listen to yourself. Doesn't that sound like you're picking out prize pigs?"

Primo was quiet for two seconds. "Host, that metaphor is rough, but it's not wrong. The matching system in this world really does focus mainly on spiritual power and gene rank."

"Fine," Margaret said. "Then let's go get checked. I want to see the look on their faces when they find out their trash ex-wife is actually S-class."

She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Her voice came out muffled. "But if I go to the hospital now, will I run into them? They're always hanging around there, bringing warmth to their precious Phoebe."

"You're right, Host. I suggest you avoid their usual visiting hours."

"Usual visiting hours?"

Primo said, "Yes. Based on my analysis of their routines, Raikes is usually at the military office from 9 to 10 in the morning. He goes to the hospital in the afternoon. Kiran's schedule is irregular, but for the past week, he's been at the hospital library every day at 3 in the afternoon. Ardon doesn't have a fixed routine either, but for the last three days, he's been eating lunch at the hospital cafeteria at noon."

Margaret blinked in surprise. "How do you even know all that? Is that in the book, too?"

"No, it's not," Primo said, with a tiny hint of pride in its voice. "I can access Prime Planet's public surveillance network. As long as it's not a private area, I can pull the data. The first step to exploring the world is gathering information, right?"

Margaret was quiet for two seconds, then burst out laughing. "Alright, Primo. With you around, what do I have to be afraid of?"

Hearing that, Primo got even prouder. "I will assist the Host with everything I've got."

Margaret glanced at the word "counseling" in the Marriage Administration's email. She squinted at them for a long time.

Then she asked, "Primo, what's this counseling for?"

"Based on the description, it's supposed to help females adjust their emotions after a divorce and prevent mental health issues."

Margaret scoffed, "Getting remarried within three or four days—that's more likely to cause mental health issues, don't you think?"

"Fine, I'll go," she said. "I've got nothing better to do anyway. I'll go listen to how they 'counsel' me. Maybe I'll even learn a few new ways to insult people."

Primo was silent for a moment. Then it said, in a very sincere tone, "Host, you're already very good at insulting people. You really don't need to learn more."

"I like hearing that," Margaret said, amused. "Say it again."

"Host, you're already very good at insulting people. You really don't need to learn more," Primo repeated, a little louder.

Her laughter echoed through the room.

The artificial sun's light streamed through the window and hit her face, making her bright, lively features stand out even more.

At two-thirty in the afternoon, Margaret stood outside Prime Planet Central Hospital. She craned her neck and stared up at the massive, ultra-modern silver-white building. She was stunned. This interstellar beast world was completely different from her original world or the book world she had been thrown into before. Luckily, she still had some leftover memory fragments from the original host—otherwise, she wouldn't have known how to get here.

"Whoa. It's huge," she muttered.

Primo said, "Host, the Psychological Counseling Center is on the third floor of Building 7. You're currently at Building 3. You need to walk 1,000 feet east."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." She strolled along, following the signs.

The hospital was packed with people. But whether they were patients' families or medical staff in white coats, everyone was tall. Only she was small and thin, weaving through the crowd. She looked a little out of place. A few beastmen gave her confused looks, but they quickly looked away.

Margaret figured she had walked about 1,000 feet. She looked up at the building in front of her—no sign. She wasn't sure which building it was. But she had Primo. If she went the wrong way, it would tell her.

The man still didn't speak. He just looked at her. His gaze had shifted from annoyance to something complicated—something hard to name.

Margaret felt a little uncomfortable under his stare, but she kept going. "But since this is the rule, let's just go through the motions. I'll come sit in your office for an hour every day. You sign off on my form at the end. We don't bother each other. Deal?"

The man finally reacted. He raised one eyebrow slightly—a hint of something almost like contempt. Then Margaret felt a strange pressure. But it was very light—like a breeze brushing past her hair. And then it was gone.

She blinked. "What's wrong?"

The man stared at her. Something new appeared in his eyes. That hint of contempt was gone, replaced by confusion, curiosity, and something she couldn't read.

He didn't answer her question. He just leaned back slightly and said in a casual tone, "You said you divorced those three... and you're happy about it?"

"Yep." Margaret nodded. "So happy I could dance. Three years—finally over."

"Three years?"

"Yes."

The man was quiet for another few seconds. Then he asked, "You're C-class?"

Margaret rolled her eyes internally.

This guy might be good-looking, but just like those three assholes—same old C-class this, C-class that.

She held back her urge to snap at him and kept her face blank. "Yeah, C-class. Got a problem with that?"

The man didn't say anything else. He just kept looking at her. His gaze made Margaret feel a little creeped out—not the kind of intense pressure like he was examining her, but... she couldn't explain it. It was like he was looking at something really interesting.