The Incubus System Chapter 1231. Are We Siblings?
The Incubus System Chapter 1231. Are We Siblings? I leaned back again, the weight still coiled tight in my chest. Whatever they did to him…
The Incubus System Chapter 1231. Are We Siblings?
I leaned back again, the weight still coiled tight in my chest.
Whatever they did to him… it wasn't done healing.
Larry had mostly finished his ice cream, his spoon resting against the rim of the bowl like it had fought a good fight and earned retirement. He sat there, still slouched slightly, still letting the replay of my rooftop stunt play in the background like ambient villain music.
Then he said, voice softer than before, “Ethan.”
He didn’t look at me. Not right away. Just watched the TV, blinking slowly like he was working through something.
And then—
He turned his head and looked at me. Like really looked at me.
“I know you know the reason.”
I shifted, my body already tensing again. “The reason…?”
“Why me,” he said. “Mrs. Clea. She should’ve said something to you, right? She talked to you, yeah?”
My jaw clenched slightly. I exhaled through my nose. “Yeah.”
That was putting it lightly. Clea hadn’t just talked. She’d dropped bombshells like she was casually unloading groceries. My mind hadn’t stopped spinning since.
“She said…” I started carefully, glancing sideways at him, “your blood is similar to mine.”
Larry froze.
His spoon hovered in mid-air like he’d just spotted the final puzzle piece of a decade-long anime arc. Then—he turned. Snapped, really. Like he’d been struck by divine revelation and it hurt.
His eyes went wide. Wild.
“Wait—” he gasped, leaning in dramatically. “Are we… siblings?”
I blinked.
Hard.
Then he slammed his ice cream bowl down like he needed full body energy to process this theory. Both of his hands latched onto my shoulders, shaking me like a prophet delivering bad news.
“Tell me, Ethan!” he said, eyes huge. “Are our parents—are we secret brothers? Did my mom cheat on my dad and sleep with your dad and that’s why we’re connected? Oh my god.”
I blinked again.
Twice.
“…Larry,” I said slowly, “that’s… that’s impossible.”
“No!” he shouted, not even hearing me. “It’s totally possible! Think about it! I lived next door to you when we were kids. The setup is perfect—small town, mysterious family past, two boys raised under lies! It’s literally a streaming show waiting to happen!”
I groaned. Out loud. Like physically and spiritually. “I didn’t even live here until I was eight. Nine, maybe. I moved after elementary started. Celia was already born. Remember?”
Larry paused. Like someone had pulled the plug on his dramatic brainpower.
He blinked. “Oh.”
The gears in his brain visibly rewound. “Yeah… you’re right. Damn it.”
He slowly let go of my shoulders and deflated back into the couch with the energy of a man who had just been denied his shot at a Netplix drama deal.
“No secret betrayal,” he muttered.
I raised a brow. “So you’re telling me, you spun an entire family scandal in your head in under thirty seconds, and the first conclusion was that your mom cheated with my dad?”
He picked his bowl back up and shoved a spoonful in like that would erase the whole thing. “My mom didn’t cheat. Good to know.”
I stared at him. “That’s the takeaway?”
“Bro, I had a whole identity crisis queued up. I was about to go full tragic backstory. You just unplugged my entire dramatic arc.”
I covered my face with my hand. “You are the dramatic arc.”
He chewed slowly. Thoughtfully. Then set the spoon down and looked at me again.
“No, but really. Same blood? That’s wild, right? I mean, what does that even mean?”
I sighed and leaned back. “It means when you were a kid, you needed a blood transfusion. My dad was the closest match. They used his.”
Larry tilted his head, eyes squinting like I’d just handed him a riddle. “But… like, your dad’s blood is that angel-demon hybrid thing, right? Nephilim royal juice?”
“Please never say ‘royal juice’ again.”
“Okay, but that’s the idea, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Turns out, Nephilim blood isn’t just compatible—it’s adaptive. Over time, your body must’ve attuned to it. That’s why you started showing weird signs. Your blood isn’t normal anymore.”
Larry’s mouth hung open slightly, halfway to another bite. “So I’m like… part you?”
I stared at him. “No. You’re not a human version of me. You’re just… affected. Think of it like having magical blood in your coffee every morning for years.”
“…That’s kind of cool though.”
“It’s also why the lab picked you,” I added.
That wiped the grin off his face.
He lowered the spoon again. “Yeah…”
I watched him go quiet.
The silence lingered between us. Heavy. A little awkward now. Like the sugar high of his ‘are-we-secret-brothers’ theory had worn off and now we were just two people sitting with uncomfortable truths in our laps.
“Hey,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “No identity crisis now?”
He gave a weak smirk. “Nah. Just figuring out what kind of anime I’m in.”
I leaned back again and let out a breath.
At least he was still him—ridiculous, dramatic, sarcastic.
Still my best friend.
We both fell quiet for a moment.
Just the TV murmuring, the faint crunch of ice crystals melting in the bowls, and the wind rattling the window slightly like the world still hadn’t settled down after my rooftop performance.
Then I turned toward him again.
“What about your dad?” I asked. “He worked with the Demon Hunter Association, right?”
Larry blinked.
Paused.
Then tilted his head slightly, looking like a confused hamster.
“…He is???”
I just stared.
“You don’t know?”
“Nooo???” Larry threw both hands up, almost slapping his own forehead with his spoon. “When? How?! He’s a manager at a distribution center! He told me that. He always work overseas! Rarely at home!”
“Well,” I muttered, “he was the one who handled the vaccine.”
Larry blinked again.
Like his brain was buffering.
“That… actually tracks,” he said finally. “He’s always been weirdly strict about health stuff. I thought he just really liked vitamins.”
I rolled my eyes.