Minutes passed, and nothing happened.
"Sigh... of course it's a damn prank, what did I expect?" Ron muttered, a wave of disappointnt washing over him, so potent it almost hurt. He let the paper slip from his fingers, watching as the wind snatched it and sent it spiraling over the edge of the building.
He had been so desperate, so pathetic, that he'd actually believed.
On the bright side, those few minutes of waiting were the most hope he'd felt in months, and they actually washed away his desire for suicide.
"I need to get my shit together," he said, the words a vow to himself. "I can't just abandon my sister. For her sake."
He didn't spend any more ti on the roof. He walked to the stairwell, each step feeling heavier than the last. He walked inside, and the familiar scent of dust and neglect filled his lungs.
The apartnt was a shrine to his failure. Half-packed boxes from when he'd foolishly moved in with Miko were stacked in a corner. A picture of him and Akira as kids, smiling on a beach, sat on a dusty shelf, a ghost of a happier life.
He sank onto the worn-out sofa, the springs groaning in protest.
He had nothing.
No money, no job, no hope.
And on top of that, he was alone.
"Sigh..." Ron let out a long, tired sigh. And before he knew it, sleep took over him.
Crack! Crack!
After about 20 minutes, the silence in the apartnt was broken as the air itself seed to splinter.
A sound, like ice cracking in a silent winter, filled the room.
Ron's closed eyes began to twitch, but he was too tired to open them.
"Hmm... who turned the lights on?" he muttered, rolling over on the couch.
A faint, pulsing crimson light began to bleed into the room from a single point in the center of the floor. It wasn't the warm glow of a lamp; it was a cold, hungry light that cast long, distorted shadows that danced like tortured things.
The floorboards started to groan and warp.
The light intensified, coalescing, the very air in the room growing thick and heavy, pressing down with the weight of a forgotten tomb. The scent of sothing ancient, sothing like blooming night flowers mixed with the tallic tang of blood and sothing else... sothing darkly sexual.
"What!" Ron's eyes snapped open.
He was on the floor.
He didn't even know when he fell, but he was now on the floor, staring at the impossible scene unfolding in the middle of his living room.
The crimson light had resolved itself into a complex, glowing circle—a summoning circle, just like in the stories. The lines weren't painted; they were etched into reality itself, burning with a red fire.
And in the center of that circle, the air was tearing open.
Then, as if a veil was being torn from reality, a figure began to manifest within the crimson glow.
The form was tall, slender, and undeniably feminine, yet held a strange, alluring androgyny.
Ron's breath hitched. The air was stolen from his lungs.
First ca the skin, the color of rich blood, smooth and flawless. Long, graceful limbs. A thin waist flared out into impossibly rounded hips. Two full, heavy breasts, capped with nipples the color of midnight, were barely contained by scraps of black fabric.
Then ca the face.
Eyes, the color of molten gold with pupils like vertical slits, scanned the room with an ancient, predatory intelligence. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and full, pouty lips that curled into a small, knowing smile. Long, raven hair cascaded down her back, a waterfall of pure night.
Two small, curved horns, like polished obsidian, peeked from the hair.
A long, thin tail tipped with a heart-shaped spade swished lazily behind her, slicing through the charged air.
She was a succubus.
A real, actual, living-breathing succubus.
Ron's mind struggled to process what he was seeing. This wasn't a prank. This wasn't a dream. This was real. The contract he'd signed on the roof was real.
"Ahh~... that wasn't so bad," the succubus purred, her voice a silken caress that sent an involuntary shiver down Ron's spine despite himself. She stretched luxuriously, her body a symphony of lethal curves. The black strips of her bikini strained against her movents.
Then, her golden eyes landed on him.
A slow, hungry smile spread across her lips.
"So," she said, her voice a low, lodic hum that vibrated in Ron's bones. "You're the one who called."
Badump! Badump!
Ron's heart hamred against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the sudden silence. His mind, which had been a void of despair just monts ago, was now a chaotic storm of fear, awe, and a horrifying, unwanted flicker of sothing else.
Lust.
He could feel it, a phantom heat blooming in his groin, a treacherous response to the raw, overwhelming sexuality radiating from the being in front of him.
He forgot everything. His sister, Miko, the job loss, the eviction notice, the hospital fee, all of it faded away into the background.
All that mattered was her.
The most terrifyingly beautiful creature he had ever seen.
"I... I..." he stamred, his throat dry, the words catching like sandpaper.
"Oh?... cat got your tongue?" the succubus giggled, a sound like wind chis made of bone. She took a step out of the now-fading circle, her bare feet making no sound on the dusty floorboards.
The circle sputtered and died, plunging the room back into the dim glow of the streetlights outside, leaving her as the only source of light in the room.
"My na is Azariel," she said, her tail swishing behind her. "And you, my little contractor, have made a wish."
Her golden eyes glead in the darkness, and Ron felt like a mouse cornered by a goddess.
"A wish for—"
Before she could finish.
Thud!
Ron instantly dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, his forehead touching the dusty floorboards.
"PLEASE MARRY !" he yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.
"Eh?..." Azariel blinked, the smile on her face crumpled in confusion. "Marry you?"
'What the fuck is this kid thinking?' she thought, her mind racing. The perfectly planned act that she and Eva practiced many tis just hit a snag.
'Am I that sexy? No, it can't be that. Eva said that I have a "friendly but slutty" vibe. Maybe it's the "Whispers of Desire" box? Liza did say it makes your voice persuasive, but "marry "? That's a bit much.'
"YES PLEASE!" Ron roared, not lifting his head from the floor. "I'll do anything! I'll be a good husband! I'll work hard! I'll love you and cherish you forever! Just please, please marry !"
His words were a torrent of raw, unfiltered desperation.
Azariel stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
'This is... not how this is supposed to go,' she thought, trying to recall her notes. 'Step one: Introduce self, radiate power and allure. Step two: Confirm the wish. Step three: Explain the price. Step four: Negotiate contract. Step five: Fulfill the wish and collect paynt. There was no "marriage proposal" step in there!'
She looked at the pathetic creature groveling on her floor. He was skinny, malnourished, and slled of cheap soap and misery. And he was proposing marriage.
To a sex demon.
Who was summoned to grant him revenge?
"Get up," Azariel finally said, her tone flat. "Now."
Ron flinched but slowly lifted his head, his eyes wide with a desperate, pleading hope that was almost physically painful to witness.
"But... you'll marry ?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"No," Azariel said, the word sharp and final. "Now, stand up."
'Sigh... what a ss,' she thought, rubbing her temples. 'Eva will definitely tease about this later... a lot.'
Ron's face crumbled. The desperate hope in his eyes died, replaced by a familiar, suffocating despair. He pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet, his movents slow and heavy, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Why?" he whispered, the question hanging in the air between them. "Why not ?"
"Because," Azariel said, her patience wearing thin. She decided to drop the act. "I am a succubus. A being from the Unspoken Realm, summoned by your contract to grant you three wishes. My purpose here is to feed on lust and power, not to play house with a pathetic mortal who can't even handle a simple breakup."
She took a step closer, her golden eyes locking with his.
"I am here for your wish," she continued, her voice a silken threat. "Your wish for revenge. Not for a wedding ring. Do you understand?"
Ron stared at her, his mind trying to process this sudden turn of events.
The goddess on the roof, the angel who could save him from his miserable existence, was just a monster in a beautiful skin.
But he was a monster too now, wasn't he? He had wished for revenge. He had signed the contract. He had sold his soul for a chance to strike back.
'Yeah... I'm a monster now,' he thought, a strange sense of calm settling over him. The despair was still there, but it was different now. It wasn't a drowning pool anymore; it was a cold, hard stone in his gut.
A foundation.
"A wish for revenge," Ron repeated, his voice quiet but steady. "You can really do that?"
"I can," Azariel confird, a small, predatory smile returning to her lips. "But there is a price."
"Anything," Ron said, without hesitation. "I'll pay anything."
"Your soul," Azariel said, her tone casual, as if she were discussing the weather. "After the third wish is granted, your soul belongs to ."
Ron's breath hitched. It was one thing to know it in theory; it was another to hear it said aloud. To have the reality of his damnation spelled out so clearly.
But what did he have to lose? His soul was already broken. His life was already a living hell.
"I accept," he said, the words leaving no room for doubt.
"Good," Azariel purred, her tail swishing behind her. "Then let's begin. You have three wishes, kid. Let's start with the one you scread into the wind on that rooftop."
"Revenge," Ron said, the na tasting like poison in his mouth. "Miko."
"Miko," Azariel repeated, savoring the na. "Describe her. Every detail. Her fears, her desires, her strengths, her weaknesses. The more you give , the more... creative I can be."
"Okay"
For Advance chapters, you can find in My Patreon
/Midnight_Paradox
.gg/NBqGDtmxnp
User Comments
0 comments from readers