The Succubus and the Young Man - Chapter 3

After a thousand years of sleep, Astalie was disturbed for the first time by a soft, cautious voice reciting an incantation.

She appeared before the human who had summoned her.

The weak creature before her was covered in wounds. The young man had black hair, black eyes, and pale skin. He looked sickly at a glance.

He made a wish to her, even volunteering to sacrifice his soul.

His soul was indeed clean. So clean that she wanted to taint it, destroy it.

The young man seemed unaware that succubi were desire made flesh.

A succubus needed more than a soul. She needed young men’s… to nourish herself.

Had he wished for something else, she might actually have considered it.

But he wanted her love in exchange?

A succubus, capable of love? Utterly absurd.

Yet, unusually for her, she hadn’t crushed him to death. She had simply left the little attic.

That night, in the ancient castle overgrown with roses, she was restless beyond endurance.

For some inexplicable reason, the image of that damned, weak human from earlier kept appearing in her mind. She couldn’t drive it away. It troubled her so much she couldn’t even sleep.

Unable to bear the loss of control, she vanished from the top of her castle.

Darkness descended, heavy and deep.

When Astalie appeared again, she was in that dark, damp little attic.

The young man seemed sound asleep.

The woman stood motionless within the black mist, her unreadable gaze fixed on him.

Even in his dreams, his brow was tightly furrowed. His long lashes lay against his eyelids. He seemed quieter still than he had during the day.

Moonlight fell into the room. His face, so unusually pale earlier, was now flushed a strange red.

The swollen wound on his forehead spoiled the view.

Astalie stood beside the bed, quietly watching him. The cold emanating from her seemed to deepen the crease between his brows, as though he sensed danger even in sleep.

He was the one who had woken her.

Her food.

His soul smelled too delicious. His flesh, his bones, his blood—all held a fatal attraction for her. She couldn’t help wanting to draw closer.

If she simply crushed this human young man to death, it would all be gone.

Astalie found herself extending a slender finger. Starting at his neck, she slowly stroked upward until she touched his face.

So soft.

Even his silky black hair looked especially endearing now. She wanted to touch it.

Only when her hand reached his forehead did she realize he had a fever.

A high fever.

Without treatment, he might even die.

Save him? Ha. Since when did a succubus do good for nothing in return?

No. Let this lowly, feeble human die and have done with it. Living seemed more painful for him anyway. That could count as mercy on her part.

She turned. Black mist gathered, and her figure vanished from the cramped room.

A moment later, Astalie abruptly reappeared in the attic.

She strode furiously to the broken little bed and flung out a spell, enveloping him completely.

Before long, the flush faded from his face. The wounds on his forehead and knees lost their redness and swelling, then gradually healed away.

When it was done, Astalie stared at him as his feverish unconsciousness settled into peaceful sleep.

The brow that had been drawn tight with pain eased a little.

Then she heard him murmuring in his dreams. Frowning, she leaned closer and caught a few broken words.

“Mother… I miss you so much.”

“Bread… milk… sweet wine… chicken legs… Oh… so good!”

The young man smiled blissfully in his sleep. Astalie found it very irritating.

She had no words for him.

Tsk. Weak humans. Such paltry ambitions.

For a long time, she stood soundlessly over him, watching.

Astalie’s gaze slowly darkened. In the darkness, it lingered over every inch of his skin.

—

A thread of warm sunlight slipped through the attic skylight. I woke with a start and sat up.

I had actually survived the night.

I touched my forehead. Miraculously, it no longer hurt.

Hurrying out of bed, I went to the little piece of old bronze mirror. The swelling on my forehead was gone.

I pulled up my trouser legs. The wounds on my knees, so agonizing yesterday, had vanished too.

How strange.

I had slept, and all those terrible injuries had healed.

As I came to my senses, I caught the scent of food in the air. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d smelled anything like it.

I breathed it in greedily, unwilling to waste even the faintest trace.

Following the scent, I turned. The little table on the other side of the room was covered in food!

I rushed over. Bread, chicken legs, dried beef… and bottles of milk! Sweet wine too!

Happiness had come so suddenly that I couldn’t quite believe it.

Was this a dream?

I hurried downstairs, but the attic was still locked from outside. There was no sign that anyone had come in.

A face suddenly surfaced in my mind. Yesterday, I had met that beautiful succubus. I’d even thought the encounter was a dream.

Could it have been… her? No, no, impossible. She had threatened me before leaving.

Could a deity who loved humankind really exist in this world?

Of course! If there were succubi, there must be deities too!

Never mind. Thank you, deity!

I ran back to the room and sat cross-legged beside the table. Carefully, I set aside a small portion for today’s meal and savored every bite.

I put the sealed sweet wine and milk, along with the dried beef that would keep, into the cupboard with the utmost care.

I wouldn’t have to go hungry for the next few days. How wonderful.