Succubi Chapter 78. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
"Okay…" I muttered, already feeling my fingers close tighter around my daggers. "So not a new room. Just... the same one with more murder energy."
The last time this happened?
The restroom.
A half-demon popped out. His bad fashion sense still gave me trauma.
But this?
This didn't feel like that.
It was worse.
This one? This one had intent. Style.
And it wanted me dead.
I dropped into a low stance. Every muscle in my body lit up like a warning flare. My thoughts went razor-sharp, breath shallow and steady. The thick silence around me pressed in tight, like I'd been dunked underwater and forgotten to kick back up.
Then—
The laugh.
Feminine.
Low.
Almost flirtatious at first.
And then it twisted.
Mocking. Coiling through the frozen space like perfume with teeth. It didn't just echo—it wrapped around the room, seeping into the cracks in the stone, into the seams of my skin.
I didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
Because anyone who opened their act with a disembodied laugh in a still-world overlay?
Yeah, that wasn't someone trying to flirt.
That was someone confident.
And in this kind of place?
Confidence meant one thing… they came with backup plans, power, and an exit route.
I didn't say a word.
I could be chatty, sure. I'd once insulted a mimic to death.
But this wasn't the moment for sass.
No. This was the kind of silence you honored.
The laugh faded into smoke.
And then the melody started.
Not spoken.
Sung.
A lullaby.
Sweet. Soft. So familiar it made my skin crawl.
It was Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
But the lyrics?
Nope. Not even close.
They were wrong.
They were a message.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little shade. Bleeding stars and knives I've made~"
"Creep through cracks of shattered time. Hunting those with stolen spine~
"Twinkle, twinkle, bleed and fall. I will paint your final call~"
I didn't shiver.
But it was close.
My stomach curled.
"Damn it," I whispered, teeth clenched.
My grip locked tight around my blades.
The air was heavier now.
Not warm.
Not cold.
But expectant.
Shadows danced near my boots, not mine anymore. Something foreign threading through the natural patterns like static in a smooth song.
I kept breathing. Kept my stance low. I didn't summon anything flashy yet. Just let the energy ripple, ready to trigger Devil Armor or Shadow Blade depending on where the first hit came from.
The mist curled.
And then—
She arrived.
Not with a step.
Not with a blink.
She glided.
A silhouette first. Smooth. Graceful. Silent.
Curves where curves didn't belong. Elegance in how she didn't even try to be threatening. Because she wasn't trying.
She didn't have to try.
This was her play.
Her stage.
And I'd just been thrown on it as the guest star who probably didn't survive the script.
I watched.
And waited.
Not because I was scared.
But because if she sang that calmly while planning to rip me apart?
Then her entrance?
Was just the overture.
Because the moment the mist finally peeled back, the silhouette turned solid—and yeah. She was hot.
Not Lilith-hot. Let's not get delusional. Lilith was in a whole other league. Like divine-level lust-meets-executive-meets-please-step-on-me territory. But this one?
She was definitely up there.
Tall. Statuesque. Pale as moonlight, like her skin had never even considered sunlight. Her features were sharp, regal. Elegant, but in that "I might slice your soul open with a perfume ad" way. Her hair was midnight black, long, silky, and wavy in that suspiciously perfect "I just killed someone and still look like I belong on a Vogue cover" kind of way. She flicked it over her shoulder like the mist was just waiting to part for her stage walk.
She looked… humanoid.
Mostly.
Except for her ears—longer than an elf's and tipped with a delicate curve, almost fin-like. Her skin wasn't the typical ash or gray or red you'd expect from a demon. No, it was tinted ever-so-slightly blue. Just enough to make you feel like she came from somewhere deep, cold, and probably underworld-adjacent.
But what really got me?
Her clothes.
She wasn't dressed for battle. Not at all.
She looked like she was about to attend a demonic masquerade gala or win "Best Dressed" at the Stabbed My Way Into High Society awards.
Long black dress. Slitted high. Glittering dark gems embedded along the hem. A corset that looked like it could crush steel—or just some poor guy's spine. Her heels clicked even though the ground didn't echo. And her nails? Clawed. Black. Polished like obsidian daggers.
She struck a pose like she'd done this a thousand times—tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, then gave a look that said you may speak now, peasant.
She gave me a once-over and frowned, almost thoughtfully.
"Oh," she said, voice rich and honeyed with a hint of venom. "This one looks nice. Young, but… looks good."
I scoffed. "Thanks. I moisturize."
She smiled faintly, amused—but it didn't reach her eyes.
Then I caught it—above her head. Glowing red status tags flickered into view.
[Virelya, Siren of the Deep Veil]
[Level 30]
And my brain immediately screamed.
'Level 30??? What the hell?! How am I supposed to beat her?!'
Yeah, no. That wasn't fear. That was screaming disbelief.
I'd just finished surviving an arena from hell, got thrown into ghost Instagrem filter land, and now I was being served up to her?
But I kept my face cool. Poker face on. Just casually clenched my jaw so hard it could grind diamonds.
She chuckled, like she heard my mental breakdown but found it cute.
"But still…" she said, swaying a little closer, her heels somehow clicking louder now, even though the ground hadn't changed. "You're a noob."
"Wow. Hurtful."
"Realistic," she said sweetly. "Though I must say… I prefer this one. I'll let my sister deal with the other girl."
My eyes twitched.
Other girl?
I pieced it together instantly.
She meant Evelyn.
Evelyn had been near the training hall. She said she'd watch the assessment. Hell, she might've still been standing outside when I got yanked into this realm.
But I couldn't hear her.
Which meant…
She was being pulled into her own separate dimension too.
Not the same one. Not nearby. No help coming.
"Great," I muttered. "So you're just here for me, huh?"
She tilted her head, eyes glowing faintly. "Oh no. Not just. I didn't come because I was told. I came to prove something."
"And that something would be?"
She smiled. And it was the kind of smile that belonged in a shark tank. "My worth."
"To who?"
"To myself," she said.
I didn't believe that for a damn second. But I kept my mouth shut.
Then she snapped her fingers.
Just once.
A sharp, crisp sound that echoed across the still chamber like a gunshot.
Ripples of black water shimmered out from beneath her feet, spreading like a pool of oil across the floor.
And from it—they rose.
Six figures.
Muscular.
Broad-shouldered.
Shiny.
And… scaly.
At first glance, they looked like men. But with fish heads.
Literally.
Mermen. Not the sexy anime kind that could make female weebs gone crazy and put them into their husbando list. The cursed deep-sea nightmare fuel kind.
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