The academy corridors were quiet in the deepening twilight. Golden lanterns floated along the stone walls, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the polished floors.
Lucas walked with measured steps, hands tucked casually into his pockets, the faint taste of Professor Ava Whitlock still lingering on his tongue. The memory of her soft, broken moan and the way her full breasts had pressed against his chest replayed in his mind like a private victory. He could still feel the heat of her body, the tremble in her thighs when his fingers brushed her leg, and the way her golden-amber eyes had glazed over with shame and want before she finally pulled back.
A small, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. The bait worked perfectly. She stopped me… but the seed is already planted. She'll lie awake tonight replaying that kiss, hating herself for wanting more. And when she breaks, she'll come to me willingly.
A faint ripple of unrest stirred in the shadows at his feet — like a nervous child tugging at his sleeve.
Lucas glanced down at the dark patch trailing beside him. "What is it?"
The Imp's voice slipped directly into his mind, careful and hesitant, the mental tone small and uncertain like a boy testing dangerous waters. Are you furious, Master?
Lucas's smirk widened into a low, amused chuckle. He kept walking, the cool evening breeze brushing across his skin as the dormitory spires came into view ahead. "Why did you think so?"
The Imp hesitated, its silver eyes flickering briefly in the shadow before vanishing again. Its next words came slower, almost apologetic. That you couldn't devour that woman… The last time it happened with that succubus, you were very furious.
Lucas laughed outright this time — a quiet, dark sound that echoed softly down the empty corridor. He stopped beneath one of the floating lanterns, leaning his shoulder against the cool stone wall as he looked down at his own shadow. The Imp materialized just enough for its small, shadowy form to be visible at his feet, head tilted in nervous confusion.
"You really are a simple little devil, aren't you?" Lucas murmured, voice low and fond in the way one might speak to a loyal but dim-witted pet. "I'm not angry at all. In fact, I'm quite pleased."
He pushed off the wall and resumed walking, the Imp's form gliding silently beside him like a loyal dog. Lucas's blue eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction as he explained, his tone patient, almost instructional.
"I didn't need to devour her tonight. That wasn't the goal. Ava Whitlock is an A-rank genius. She's spent years burying every desire under duty and responsibility. If I had tried to force it, she would have shut down completely — maybe even reported me.
No… I gave her exactly what she needed to lower her guard. I showed her pain. Vulnerability. A sob story about a mother who never cared enough. I made her feel pity. I made her feel seen. And in that moment of weakness, she kissed me. She chose it."
Lucas's smirk deepened, the memory of Ava's trembling lips and the soft moan she tried to swallow sending a fresh thrill through him.
"She stopped me afterward, yes. She's drowning in shame right now — sitting in that office, thighs pressed together, hating how wet she got from a student's touch. But that shame? That guilt? It's the hook. Tomorrow she'll avoid me. The day after, she'll think about me constantly. And soon… she'll start finding excuses to be near me again. She'll convince herself she's only guiding me. Until the day she can't stop herself anymore."
He glanced down at the Imp, his voice dropping to a darker, possessive rumble. "I don't want a quick conquest, little one. I want her to break slowly. I want her to choose me while still telling herself she's in control. That's when the real fun begins."
The Imp's silver eyes widened slightly, the unrest in the shadow easing as understanding settled in. Its mental voice came back softer, almost awed. So… the bait worked.
Lucas's laugh was low and satisfied as the grand doors of the Apex dormitory came into view ahead, the luxurious building glowing warmly against the night sky. "Exactly. The bait always works when you know exactly where to place it."
He was about to step inside when the Imp's presence rippled again — one last, hesitant tug at the edge of his mind.
But Master… why has no one been able to conquer her so far? The devil's tone was genuinely puzzled now, the mental voice small and curious. Though I can't read that woman's desires because of her high rank… I can still smell it. She wants to anchor herself. She wants to depend on someone. So why does she keep pushing everyone else away?
Lucas paused just inside the doorway, the heavy doors clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound. He tilted his head, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face as he looked down at the shadow pooled at his feet.
The Imp waited, silver eyes bright with confusion — the same devil that thrived on manipulating desires now found itself unable to fully grasp this particular prey.
Lucas's voice dropped to a low, almost intimate murmur, the kind he reserved for explaining the rules of the game to someone who still thought it was fair.
"She's afraid, little one. Deep down, she knows exactly what her nature is. Once she gives herself to someone — truly gives in — she won't be able to escape. She's a submissive type at her core. The kind that craves being owned, guided, broken open… but she's spent her whole life building walls to protect that secret from the world."
He started walking again, boots echoing softly down the opulent hallway lined with floating crystal lights. "So when I shared my own story — the pain of never being enough — she saw the opposite of everything she's running from. She saw someone struggling with the same chains she's been carrying. Her nature to help others, to nurture and support, wouldn't let her pull away. That's all I needed. A crack in the armor. And of course… there's that little greed inside her. The part that still desperately wants to be acknowledged. To be chosen. By someone who understands her pain instead of just wanting to use her power."
Lucas's smile turned sharper, colder, as he reached the private elevator that would take him to his luxurious floor. "She thinks she's being kind. She thinks she's guiding a broken student. But the moment she let me kiss her… she already started falling. And she doesn't even realize it yet."
The Imp's mental voice came back quiet, almost reverent. You really are terrifying, Master.
Lucas stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft chime. "No," he said, voice low and dark with satisfaction. "I'm just patient."
The elevator began its smooth ascent, carrying him toward the luxury that still felt foreign on his tongue. Below, his shadow rippled once — content, obedient, and utterly loyal.
Lucas stepped through the heavy doors of his private dormitory floor, the soft click of the lock echoing behind him like a promise of privacy. The air inside was warm and fragrant with the rich aroma of slow-cooked herbs, seared meat, and a faint, sweet undertone that made the back of his throat tighten.
Golden crystal lights floated lazily overhead, bathing the luxurious open-plan living area in a soft, intimate glow. The massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the academy's manicured night gardens, but Lucas's attention was already fixed on the two women waiting for him.
Sophia stood at the open kitchen island, her back to him, sleeves of her crisp black-and-white maid uniform rolled neatly to her elbows. The fitted dress clung to her voluptuous figure — the fabric stretching across the generous swell of her breasts and hugging the dramatic curve of her hips and ass with every small movement as she stirred a pan. A delicate white apron was tied around her waist, accentuating the hourglass shape that had always made Lucas's gaze linger a second too long.
Beside her, Yuna was arranging plates on the long dining table with practiced grace. She wore a sheer black nightdress beneath a tiny lace apron — the kind that did nothing to hide the way her succubus bloodline had transformed her body. Her waist-length midnight hair cascaded down her back, and the dress clung to her newly amplified curves like a second skin, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh. Her pink-tinted eyes flicked up the moment Lucas entered, lighting with open joy.
Sophia turned at the sound of the door. Her expression remained perfectly neutral, professional, though Lucas caught the brief flicker of tension in her shoulders.
"Young Master Lucas," she greeted, voice even and polite.
"Lucas!" Yuna's face bloomed into a bright, almost possessive smile. She set the last plate down and moved toward him, but stopped short when she caught the faint trace of another woman's scent on his clothes — something floral and warm that definitely wasn't hers.
Lucas smiled, sliding into his usual seat at the head of the table. "Let's talk later. I'm hungry."
Yuna huffed, a small pout forming on her full lips, but she sat to his right anyway, resting her chin on her hand and watching him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. Her succubus senses were sharp — far sharper than Lucas could fully escape — and she could already smell the lingering traces of Professor Ava's arousal and perfume clinging to him like a challenge.
Sophia moved silently, serving Lucas first with practiced efficiency. The porcelain plate was soon filled with perfectly seared steak, buttered vegetables, and a rich sauce that made his stomach growl.
She had been a top-tier chef, and Lucas had quickly decided he would never touch Yuna's cooking again after the first disastrous attempt. Besides, making Sophia cook for him served two very deliberate purposes: it kept her here longer, and it drove Alex absolutely insane.
Yuna had been ordered to spend more time with Sophia for the same reason. The longer the maid lingered near Yuna, the more her body would crave the subtle aphrodisiac aura the succubus naturally released. It was a slow poison; Lucas was more than happy to let it work in the background.
Sophia finished serving and stood stiffly beside Lucas's chair, clearly hoping to escape as quickly as possible. Her thoughts were a storm behind her composed face. Why does he keep calling me here just to cook and clean? Is he mocking me? Showing his authority? And the longer I stay, the more anxious Alex becomes… What is his plan?
Lucas turned toward her, voice casual but firm. "Sophia, come sit with us."
She declined politely, the way she always did. "I'm fine standing, Young Master."
Lucas set his utensils down with deliberate calm and leaned back in his chair, blue eyes locking onto hers. "I won't eat until you sit with me."
Sophia cursed internally, cheeks tightening with frustration. He's doing this deliberately to make Alex uncomfortable.
She sighed, the sound soft but defeated, and finally moved to sit on his left. The moment she lowered herself into the chair, the faint but unmistakable wave of Yuna's succubus scent washed over her — sweet, heady, impossible to ignore. Sophia's thighs pressed together instinctively as a warm flush crept up her neck.
Lucas smiled, satisfied, and picked up his utensils again. Sophia served herself a small portion of salad, trying to keep her movements normal. Her breathing had already grown just a fraction shallower.
"I feel comfortable with you, Sophia," Lucas said between bites, voice low and sincere. "You don't ask me endless questions like some people." He winked at Yuna, who was now openly glaring at him from his right. "And you cook incredibly well. You take care of me so naturally…"
He let the words hang for a moment, then leaned slightly closer, his tone dropping into something darker, more intimate.
"What should I do to make you mine, Sophia?"
The question landed like a quiet thunderclap in the otherwise peaceful dining room. Sophia's fork froze halfway to her mouth. Yuna's eyes widened, a dangerous pink spark flashing in her gaze as her possessiveness flared.
Sophia's cheeks burned, her thighs clenching tighter beneath the table as the succubus aura continued its slow, insidious work.
The air between the three of them suddenly felt thick enough to cut.
***
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