The Incubus System Chapter 1253. I’m Emotionally Corrupted
The Incubus System Chapter 1253. I’m Emotionally Corrupted
The rooftop pulsed with enchantment as they spread. Some climbed the vents. Some disappeared into shadows that weren’t there. Others turned translucent and leapt into the air, carried by ethereal threads.
All of them humming. All of them listening.
“Report back in ten minutes,” Syntyche said softly, eyes still closed. “Scan all mortal frequencies. Check for cursed object anomalies, residual demonic heat, and weapon resonance.”
The spiders scattered. The sound vanished with them.
She opened her eyes. “They’ll find it.”
I watched the last few vanish off the ledge. Felt the wind shift.
Good.
Now the game begins.
“Alright,” I said, turning back to her. “Let’s ruin whoever’s hiding that weapon.”
She smiled.
And it wasn’t the Queen’s smile.
It was the predator’s.
The kind of expression that made mortals confess sins they hadn’t committed yet. Wicked, self-assured, and casually soaked in “you’re already too late to stop me.” Her eyes gleamed under the sun—too red, too sharp. She tilted her head, lips still stained from wine and whatever was left of me.
And yet, here we were—sitting on the rooftop of an abandoned tenement in the middle of Nighthallow City—like we were just another fucked-up couple on vacation.
Ten minutes.
That’s what she said.
Ten minutes for the Spyders to sweep the country.
Ten minutes for me to pretend like I wasn’t itching for violence.
But there was no way in hell Syntyche was going to sit and do nothing for ten minutes.
And honestly?
Me neither.
So we sat.
Right on the cracked ledge of the rooftop, legs dangling over the edge, high heels clicking faintly against cement, my coat brushing her thigh every time I shifted. The wind kicked up the scent of asphalt, metal, something faintly fried—typical city lunch rush down below. It wasn’t exactly romantic. But she leaned into me anyway, one hand resting against my jaw as she pulled me into a kiss that tasted like blood-wine and aftershock.
No urgency.
No hunger.
Just… contact.
Warm. Messy. Familiar.
A couple of kisses turned into more. Her hand slid along my thigh, tracing patterns that made me twitch despite myself. I let my arm wrap lazily around her waist and kissed her again—this time slower, deeper, our noses brushing. My other hand cupped her cheek. Her lashes fluttered against my skin. Her breath hitched like she was still recovering from earlier.
I didn’t stop her.
I didn’t need to.
And we just… stayed like that.
Kissing like we had time.
She eventually pulled back and leaned her head against my shoulder. “You’re warm,” she said softly. “Warmer than most demons.”
“I’m not most demons,” I muttered.
She smirked. “You’re not even just a demon. Angel blood does weird things.”
“Try being raised by humans,” I said. “That’ll mess you up more.”
Her fingers drummed lightly against my arm as we stared out at the city below. People were beginning to gather. First just a few. Then more. Phones raised. Zoomed in.
A couple of drones hovered in the air now—spherical, matte-black. Demon Hunter surveillance models. I knew the shape. I’d trashed a lot yesterday.
The hunters wouldn’t make a move though.
Still, the energy in the street was shifting. Police had started to form a perimeter around the building. Yellow tape. Sirens. A few mortals in suits that looked too clean to be locals.
Didn’t matter.
We ignored them.
Kept talking like we were in some rooftop café waiting for our overpriced lattes.
Syntyche tilted her head to the side and asked, “So… what’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Human life. Their world. Day-to-day.”
I exhaled. “You’ve been here before.”
“Never long enough to just watch. Always infiltration, war. Never coffee and malls and awkward first dates.”
I chuckled. “You’d hate the malls.”
She smiled faintly. “Tell me anyway.”
So I did.
I told her how loud it was. Not just the cars and trains and ambient sirens—but the people. Always talking. Always selling. Always narrating their lives to strangers online. I told her how humans romanticized struggle. How they burned themselves out just to say they earned the rest.
I told her about coffee shops that never closed and bookstores that smelled like rain. About spicy instant noodles at 2 AM, and the hiss of air fryers and cheap perfume. How money ruled everything—but no one actually liked it. How they had a thousand ways to numb pain and still went looking for more.
“They smile a lot,” I said. “But it’s almost never real.”
She listened in silence.
Then whispered, “Is it better?”
I blinked. “Than the demon realm?”
“Yeah.”
“…In some ways,” I admitted. “They have hope. Not because they’re brave. Because they don’t know better. That makes them stupid and beautiful.”
She nodded. “That’s why your aura’s different.”
I raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not shaped like us. Not all the way. You don’t drip despair and lust like the others. You… bend. Adapt. Even when you dominate, you feel. That’s not just demon instinct.”
“I’m emotionally corrupted,” I said dryly. “Blame humanity.”
She laughed, and it echoed across the rooftop.
“Do you love it?” she asked after a moment.
I looked down at the city.
The flashing signs. The hotdog vendor. A group of school kids pointing up at us, one of them already streaming.
“Yeah,” I said. “But I never really belonged.”
“Because you belong to the demon world, to me,” she whispered.
That one hit harder than I expected.
I didn’t say anything.
Just pulled her closer and kissed her again.
The crowd below had grown now. Cops forming a barricade. Some idiot had a megaphone. One of the drones floated closer.
I raised a brow.
Syntyche rolled her eyes. “Ignore it.”
“Already doing that.”
And then—
Skitter.
I heard it before I saw it.
One of her Spyders.
Crawling up the side of the ledge like a ghost. It shimmered dark silver, a crimson rune flickering on its back. It approached Syntyche’s hand and waited.
She extended a finger.
The Spyder climbed onto it.
“Ah,” she whispered. “We got something.”