Chapter 70. I Like Evan
Succubi Chapter 70. I Like Evan
He didn’t answer. He lunged again.
This time, I countered.
I pivoted on my left foot, twisted, and slammed my elbow into his forearm mid-strike. He winced. I used the recoil to spin into a backhanded knuckle punch right across his cheekbone. Clean. Fast. He staggered, just a half-step—but didn’t fall.
Alright. Guy’s got a chin.
He retaliated with a front kick—I turned sideways, let it graze past my hip, and caught his leg with both arms, yanking it forward just a little.
He fell toward me.
I leaned back and brought my knee up.
Straight into his stomach.
Not enough to break anything. Just enough to empty his lungs and stop him cold.
Hands almost—almost—hit the ground.
Then he caught himself. Stayed hovering. Fingers trembling just above the dirt.
Our eyes met.
He pushed himself up again. Slower this time.
Now he looked pissed.
“You're better than I thought,” he muttered.
“Thanks,” I replied. “You’re not bad either. Kind of aggressive. Maybe chill on the Sera obsession though.”
His eyes burned. But this time, I could feel his breath faltering. His stance wasn’t perfect anymore. Weight shifting between feet like he couldn’t commit to a solid base.
He rushed again.
I read the approach. Saw the twist in his core before he threw the punch. A looping right hook this time.
Too slow.
I ducked. Slipped under. Slammed my shoulder into his chest—he staggered back, surprised.
I chased the gap.
One, two.
Left jab to his shoulder. Right palm strike to his sternum.
He stepped back fast, trying to get out of range, but I wasn’t done.
I pivoted and launched a roundhouse.
He ducked—smart. But my heel clipped him. Just enough to throw off his balance again.
He caught himself on instinct, hands flailing slightly.
And one hand—
Touched the ground.
Everyone saw it.
Evelyn stood up.
Leon whistled low. “Aaand there it is.”
The senior froze.
His hand stayed on the dirt for a second longer than necessary.
Then he pulled it back, slow. Got to his feet. Face blank.
I exhaled and relaxed my stance, rolling my shoulders loose again.
“That’s the match,” I said simply.
No celebration. No gloat.
Just calm.
Just done.
Sera was standing, eyes wide, one hand to her mouth. She didn’t look excited. Just… stunned.
The other guy—the food-delivery friend—just shook his head and muttered something under his breath.
The Valor senior stared at me, expression unreadable now.
“You fight clean,” he said.
“Clean enough,” I replied. “Want a rematch?”
He blinked.
“No,” he said eventually. “Not now.”
The guy turned and walked off, still tight-jawed, probably grinding his teeth. I let out a quiet breath, flexed my fingers, and gave my shoulders a roll. No bruises. No sprains. Just a light sting in my knuckles and a memory of impact.
Not bad for morning exercise.
Then—
“So…” Sera’s voice chimed in beside me, innocent and curious as a bunny poking its head out of a minefield. “What was the duel about?”
I turned my head slowly, cautiously. “He said I was manipulating you.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion, her expression shifting from cute curiosity to mild offense.
The Valor senior, now halfway out of the field, turned back slightly and added flatly, “And the piggyback.”
I sighed. Loudly. “That was her request,” I said, pointing at Sera. “Don’t blame me.”
She tilted her head, blinking up at me. “Evan never manipulated me.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Heard that?”
Then the second guy—Mr. Food Courier, still looming nearby like I owed him rent for breathing the same air as Sera—crossed his arms and said sharply, “But you told us Evan doesn’t let you receive food from us anymore.”
I turned toward her, jaw dropping slightly. “When did I say that?”
“Yesterday,” Sera answered, raising one finger thoughtfully like she was answering a pop quiz. “You told me I should only take food from someone I actually like. So, I remembered it.”
I winced. “Okay, I did kinda say that. But—look—I meant if you don’t like them, then don’t just keep taking stuff. It could give them false hope. Like... emotional tax fraud.”
Sera nodded rapidly, proud of herself. “Yes! That’s what I mean. That’s why when they gave me milk today, I refused and told them ‘Evan doesn’t let me take it.’”
I facepalmed. Hard. “That is not what I meant…” Yeah, that was an ambiguous statement. I understood why they were mad now.
Leon was wheezing from the audience bench.
Evelyn had her head in her hand.
Sera just blinked innocently again. “You said if I don’t like them, I shouldn’t make them hope.”
I looked at her. “Exactly. So you don’t like them?”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully, like we were discussing soup flavors. “I don’t like them.”
I turned to the two guys still standing there, expressions somewhere between heartbreak and homicide.
“Yup. Hear that? Just clearing things up before anyone else challenges me to a morning brawl. I’m out here preventing drama, not collecting it.”
“I don’t want misunderstandings,” Sera added helpfully. Then she smiled—soft, sweet, bright-eyed.
“I like Evan.”
The air stopped.
My brain stuttered.
There was silence. Deafening silence.
I stood very still. Hand still halfway covering my face. My heartbeat had the audacity to skip, speed up, then do a confused backflip.
She just. Said. She likes me.
In front of everyone.
In front of the two guys who nearly fought a war for her favor. In front of Leon. In front of Evelyn. In front of the entire emotionally unstable academy lunch shift.
My mind went full static.
Just white noise and one looping thought.
‘Whyyyyyyyy?!’
Leon let out a long, dramatic exhale. “Oh boy…”
Evelyn just shook her head, pity in her eyes like she’d just witnessed someone step on a rake and smile about it.
Meanwhile, the two senior boys…
Let’s just say— They looked at me like I’d just spit on their ancestors’ tombstones, lit the graves on fire, and danced on the ashes in tap shoes.
And me?
I was standing there mid-duel sweat, slightly bruised, heart now under siege from unexpected public affection, trying not to scream internally.
Sera, however, looked completely content.
“I mean it,” she said. “You’re fun to talk to. You listen. You don’t do that creepy over-the-shoulder thing some guys do.”
One of the seniors muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s called being protective,” which only made Evelyn snort.
I waved my hand frantically in the air.
“Okay! Okay. We’ve clarified everything. No manipulation. No secret anti-milk agendas. No evil schemes. She doesn’t like you guys, and I didn’t force her to declare that publicly. Can we please de-escalate now?”
Leon muttered, “Bit late for that.”
The food guy finally turned and stormed off in silence, probably regretting the milk incident. The first senior, though? He didn’t move.
He just stared at me.
Not with hatred anymore.
With something colder.
A grudge was forming.
I could feel it like a weather front.
But he left.
Eventually.
After what felt like a ten-second psychic death match between our locked eyes.
Once they were gone, I finally let myself exhale.
Sera was still standing there, arms behind her back, just swaying a little like she hadn’t just shattered two male egos and my social defense system in one blow.
“Why,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose, “did you say that now?”
She tilted her head. “You said to be honest if I don’t like someone. So I was.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But I do like you,” she said brightly.
I sighed.
Leon stood and patted my shoulder once. “You poor bastard.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “You better learn to run faster. Because this? This is only the beginning.”
Sera giggled.
I groaned.
And the sky above the dueling field couldn’t decide whether to rain, or laugh with me.
Magic. Fists. Confessions. Drama.
And apparently?
Public fan club wars.
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