The Incubus System Chapter 1241. Not For Free

The Incubus System Chapter 1241. Not For Free

I blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” Larry said, mouth full again.

“Right,” I muttered. “Of course it did.”

But yeah. One week delay. That was… unexpected. And kind of a gift.

A cursed gift, but still.

I leaned back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling.

“Alright,” I murmured. “One week. That’s enough.”

“Enough for what?”

I smiled, slow and tired. “Enough to get my sword back.”

Across the room, Puriel glanced over, eyebrow raised. “Your sword?”

“Long story,” I called.

Celia sipped her tea, unbothered. “We heard.”

Larry glanced at them. “You didn’t warn him about this?”

Puriel shrugged. “Would he have listened?”

Celia grinned behind her mug. “Nope.”

I slumped deeper into the couch. Buni crawled into my lap again like a little fuzzy weight of shame. Shadow hopped onto the coffee table and started kneading the pizza box like it owed him money. Rave perched on the curtain rod, silently judging everything.

Yeah. Just another morning.

I sighed.

“Alright,” I said again, more to myself than anyone else.

Larry smirked. “You gonna make a plan?”

“Oh, I already have one,” I said.

And it was absolutely going to get me in trouble.

But hey.

Trouble and I were on a first-name basis by now.

I was still trying to decide if that counted as a skill or a curse when my phone buzzed across the table like it had opinions.

-Ping!

I blinked. Dragged myself up. It was still on the low wooden table near the TV, right next to a half-eaten chocolate bar and one of Red’s chewed-up squeaky toys. I scooped it up, unlocked the screen.

Message from Clea.

Three location tags. A short note. A warning.

Clea: Possible transfer points. Prioritize Sector Twelve. Military artifact vault. Highly guarded. Internal clearance only. Proceed carefully. PS: Don’t start a war.

I snorted.

Too late.

I typed back quickly.

Ethan: Thanks. I’ll handle it.

Then set the phone down.

Larry, of course, was already leaning over the couch like a nosy grandpa. “So… what’s your plan?”

I exhaled, long and slow. My brain ran through every bad option, then circled back to the one that made the most sense—and was also likely to end in some flavor of intimate disaster.

“Maybe I need to talk to Syntyche,” I said. “Request her help.”

Larry squinted. “Who?”

“My harem,” I said, like it was normal. “The spider queen.”

His brain did a full system reboot.

I watched it happen in real time—his mouth opening, closing, eyes blinking like he was buffering. He genuinely looked like he couldn’t tell if I’d just made that up or if he missed an entire season of my life.

I bit into the last of my pizza slice and stood up. “She has spies everywhere. Networks. Webs. If anyone can help me figure out where they’re keeping Bloodrender, it’s her. Better than me wandering around throwing a tantrum at every base until someone files a noise complaint.”

Larry opened his mouth, clearly ready to make a joke, but Puriel beat him to it.

“So,” she said coolly from the table, “you’re going to the demon world?”

I chewed for a second and then nodded. “Yeah. After I bathe.”

There was a silence.

I looked down at myself—crusty collar, pajama pants, pizza grease on one sleeve. “I mean, look at me. After what happened yesterday, I can’t just walk into her palace, ask for her help, and look like a sleep-deprived stray. I’m in a mess.”

Larry’s brain lagged again.

“Wait,” he said, blinking hard. “Bath? Why the hell does bathing matter here?”

I stared at him. Deadpan. “Because I’m not asking her for help for free, Larry.”

Still no connection.

Celia, bless her cold honesty, set her tea down and said flatly, “He means he needs to f*ck her first.”

Larry dropped his crust. “WHAT?”

Puriel didn’t even flinch.

“I’m not going to use her,” I said, slightly defensive. “It’s mutual. It’s demon culture. You don’t just show up empty-handed when you’re dealing with a queen. She has her needs. I have mine. It’s respect.”

Larry’s face went through seven emotions in three seconds.

He pointed at me. “So your plan is to shower, teleport to hell, and then bang a spider queen for tactical support?”

“Yes,” I said calmly.

He blinked.

“Then get information from her underworld network?”

“Yes.”

He paused.

“And this works?”

I raised a brow. “Have I died yet?”

He opened his mouth—paused again—and then frowned. “…Okay, fair.”

His voice went high-pitched. “But like… how? Do you just show up and say ‘hello, let’s have s*x and also a recon favor, please’ and she just does it?”

“She’s part of my harem, Larry,” I said flatly. “This is kind of how it works.”

Larry stared at me like I’d just admitted I could speak fluent bear. “You’re like the magical version of a hot mess reality show.”

“Thanks,” I said, brushing off my coat. “I try.”

But he wasn’t done.

“Oh my god, dude,” he groaned, standing up now, gesturing wildly. “I’ve been sleeping on your couch, watching you argue with demons and bunny-foxes and spider-ladies, thinking this was just anime-style chaos—but no. You’ve actually got a whole interdimensional booty call system going on?!”

I didn’t even answer.

Just reached into my coat, pulled out my wallet, grabbed a couple crumpled bills, and smacked them into his hand.

“Go home, Larry.”

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You’ve got nothing on you,” I said. “No gear, no phone, not even socks that match. I know your mom’s waiting for you. And if she finds out you’ve been crashing here longer with a demon lord and demon pets—she’ll storm my house. Probably with holy water and a frying pan.”

He glanced down at the money. “But—”

“Just take the public transport.”

He stared at the cash. Then at me.

Then he sighed and slumped like I’d just personally revoked his access to season two of life.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if your demon s*x diplomacy gets you killed, I’m not going to your funeral.”

“As if I will die,” I said dryly.