Chapter 102. Spotless

Succubi Chapter 102. Spotless

I went back to my bedroom.

And yeah, Sera was gone.

No clingy tentacle nap. No sleepy moaning mess of a succubus purring against my chest. Just… silence. Stillness. The faint scent of soap, maybe her hair, maybe something that still lingered from our night together.

Instead, standing by the couch like it had just finished casting judgment on my life, was an imp.

The imp.

The same short, round-bodied, malicious sponge with legs who had been glaring at me earlier.

It was standing beside the couch now. Smug. Arms crossed. A little puff of shadow curling up from its stubby shoulders like steam from freshly boiled spite.

And the couch?

Spotless.

Spotless!

I blinked. Walked closer. I didn’t even have to touch it, the cushions were clean. The bloodstains? Gone. The tentacle trails? Gone. The weird lingering shame aura? Gone. It looked like a showroom model from a cursed furniture catalog. Like it had never been used for anything remotely sinful.

“Holy… wow,” I breathed, jaw slack. “You really cleaned it…”

I actually clapped.

I don’t know why. Maybe guilt. Maybe shock. Maybe because this evil little scrubbing gremlin actually deserved it.

The imp puffed its chest proudly like it just performed an exorcism. It gave me a smug little head tilt, like ‘you’re welcome, pervert’ and then promptly hopped down, waddled toward the hallway, and vanished into the shadows like some tiny, bitter janitor ghost.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Still terrifying. But efficient.”

I grabbed my bath kit and headed for the bathroom.

Honestly, I needed to scrub the night off my soul.

The water was already warm when I turned the knob, steam curling up like lazy spirits escaping their overtime shift. I stripped, stepped in, and let the heat wash over me. Muscles that I didn’t know were tense started to relax.

And then I saw it.

My reflection in the mirror.

More accurately, my neck.

The tentacle marks.

Faint but there. Subtle red lines, like ghostly welts from a passionate strangling. It ran across my collarbone, dipped beneath the shoulder, curved around my ribs. One even peeked out just under my jaw. Sera had been enthusiastic last night. Like an octopus trying to claim a new yacht.

“…Yeah,” I muttered, poking at the mark. “That’s not gonna be subtle.”

I had healing magic. But none of it worked well on magically enhanced lust-induced tentacle hickeys.

Sera’s energy was all over them.

And yeah, I could’ve bragged. I could’ve walked into class shirt half-open, collarbone glowing like I’d been touched by a goddamn temptress.

But no. I had pride.

Ironically. Being a Pride demon and all.

So yeah, I dried off, dressed crisp, black jacket over deep navy shirt, gold-trimmed sleeves, black slacks, and slapped a giant flesh-colored plaster over the most obvious mark like some loser who tried covering up a vampire bite with a Band-Aid.

I even adjusted my collar to make it look natural. It wasn’t. I looked like someone who lost a fight with an affectionate blender.

And then I headed to breakfast.

The dining hall in the dorm was… surprisingly peaceful.

Too peaceful.

The long obsidian table was set with gleaming silverware, warm pastries, crisp toasts, and fresh fruit that somehow hadn’t been molested by imps. Plates were perfectly stacked. Steam rose from eggs, sausages, and something glazed with honey that made my stomach growl like a rabid lion.

Everyone was already there.

Lilith, seated at the head like some elegant cult leader sipping from a crystal cup.

Val, lounging across from Gladia with one leg propped over her knee, eating toast like it owed her rent.

Gladia, eyes glued to her second plate, devouring her food like a dainty monster with a bottomless pit instead of a stomach.

Rivy, stone-faced as ever, stabbing into a sausage with a glare like it just insulted her family.

Evelyn, seated at the far end, eyes dark and observant as she buttered her toast in slow, precise movements like she was plotting an assassination.

And Sera? Not here. Gone. Probably sleeping in. Or back to drooling on someone else’s pillow. But she showed up five minutes later, grinning innocently like she was.

I didn’t say a word.

Just nodded once to Lilith, grabbed a plate, and sat down.

And yeah, like I thought… breakfast went normal.

Too normal.

No one mentioned what happened yesterday. Not the siren attack. Not their last night's discussion, nor the ambush. They just ate.

Talked about mundane stuff, lecture schedules, enchantment theory homework, the new combat simulator’s cooldown glitch, how someone probably broke the training dummy. Laughter. Banter. Normal.

And I couldn’t complain.

Because yeah… I did the same.

I was probably the worst offender, honestly. I almost died yesterday. Almost died and I still joked around like it was a field trip gone mildly wrong. Maybe it hadn’t sunk in yet. Or maybe I didn’t know how to show it mattered. Maybe I’d gotten too used to smiling through the mess.

So yeah. I stayed quiet.

Shoved food into my mouth and let the flavors distract me. Let the spices burn away the silence. Let the honey-slicked toast and roasted sausage give me something to focus on.

And the food?

Amazing.

Ridiculously good.

I tried not to think about who made it, the imps. Those little cackling gremlin chefs who openly mocked me in demon gibberish while stirring soups and flipping eggs with ancient precision. One of them probably cursed my toast for fun. But damn it… it was good toast.

Good food was good food.

So I kept eating. Kept quiet. Let the others pretend too. Because if they were pretending, that meant they were coping. And if they were coping, then maybe we were all doing okay in our own screwed-up ways.

After we finished, the dining table cleared itself, probably more imp work, or Lilith’s subtle magic. One by one, the girls grabbed their lunch and snack boxes from the counter. Neatly packed, color-coded, even labeled with name tags like we were going on a demon kindergarten picnic.

I picked mine up last.

Still warm.

Then we all headed out, taking the usual route.

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