The Incubus System Chapter 1304. Uno and Lipstick
The Incubus System Chapter 1304. Uno and Lipstick
A delivery guy shouted from beyond the gate, “Pizza for Mr. Strongheart!”
I blinked.
That was me.
I opened the door in a hurry, half-jogging down the steps in bare feet, still trying to wipe off the last smear of lipstick from my cheek. Too late.
The guy spotted it immediately. He was leaning on the gate like a relaxed NPC from a slice-of-life game, pizza warmer bags in hand, grinning like the damn Cheshire Cat.
“Hey,” he said. “Nice lipstick. Shades pop. Real bold.”
I glanced at him, then smirked. “You’re welcome. We’re playing Uno.”
His eyebrows raised a little, clearly trying to visualize how a card game ended with a guy looking like he got caught in a passionate makeup test. I handed him a wad of cash—way more than needed—and added a generous tip. Because yeah, I was in a good mood. The weather was cool. My face was warm. My heart? Happier than it had been in a while.
Also, I had to remind myself—again—that I wasn’t poor anymore.
The guy whistled when he saw the total. “Damn. Thanks, man.”
I shrugged. “Live a little.”
He handed me the pizza—two big boxes stacked high, warm and fragrant, with that glorious oily steam curling out of the cracks. I carried them like they were royal offerings, with the drink tray nestled under my chin.
“Good luck with Uno,” he called as he walked away.
“Oh, I don’t need luck,” I said, mostly to myself. “Just better friends.”
I nudged the door open with my knee, sidestepping the trap pile of shoes and jackets on the floor, and called out, “It’s here, guys!”
The living room looked like a war zone designed by a party planner on sugar high.
The TV was on, blasting some cooking competition show with unnecessarily intense music. Uno cards were scattered across the low table and floor like the remnants of a magical duel gone wrong. Pillows were tossed every which way, and a single sock hung from the ceiling fan like it had survived a tornado.
And in the middle of it all? My chaotic, ridiculous, beloved group.
Celia lounged cross-legged on the floor with Buni curled up in her lap, nibbling fake carrot sticks like it paid rent. Tiffany sprawled on the couch with a smug grin and a tube of lipstick still in her hand, twirling it like a weapon of mass humiliation. Foxy perched at the corner like a well-dressed shadow with a glint of judgment in her eyes.
Larry sat with Red the dog draped across his lap like a throw blanket. He was wearing zero lipstick, which was suspicious, and glaring at his cards like they’d betrayed him.
Shadow the cat sat at the windowsill, tail twitching, staring at us all like some disdainful supervisor forced to monitor underpaid employees.
And Rave the raven? Of course, that asshole was on my head. Just sitting there. Light as air. A feathery crown of chaos.
I dropped the pizza boxes on the coffee table and announced, “Royal feast has arrived, my loyal peasants.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Took you long enough, Mr. Greedy.”
“Don’t call me that when I’m holding the sacred triangle of pepperoni.”
Ruby set down her glass and gave a small nod. “Thank you for providing sustenance.”
Celia stretched, reaching for a slice. “About damn time. I was about to start chewing on Buni’s toys.”
“Try it and I’ll make you draw four,” Tiffany warned, sliding her lipstick tube into her cleavage like it belonged in a holster.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, grabbed a slice, and let the cheesy, salty scent hit my nose full-force. The crust crackled just right under my fingers, and when I bit down, that hot grease burned the roof of my mouth in the best way possible.
Heaven.
My personal kind.
We dug in, mouths full, lips oily, hearts content.
“So,” I said around a mouthful of meat lover’s, “can we talk about how I’m the one with all the lipstick on my face, and Puriel, the literal noob, has none?”
Puriel blinked innocently from the corner of the couch, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “I was lucky.”
Larry groaned. “You had, like, divine card-rigging aura! I swear you summoned reverse cards with your prayers.”
“I just followed the rules,” she replied, soft but smug.
“Lies,” I muttered. “Witchcraft. Angelic hacks.”
“Also,” Celia said between bites, “why does Larry still have a clean face?”
“Because I’m amazing,” Larry announced proudly, flinging a slice into his mouth whole. “Uno champion of the living room. Kiss-free and flawless.”
Ruby, who had rejoined the circle while sneakily wiping a streak of pizza sauce from my cheek like she owned me, mumbled, “Not for long.”
Larry paled. “Wait—”
But Ruby was already reaching for the lipstick again.
“I didn’t lose!” he shouted, scooting backward on the couch with Red still draped over him like a hostage.
“I’m preemptively marking you for crimes against taste,” she declared, eyes gleaming.
I just watched it all unfold with a lazy grin on my face, leaning back into the warm pillow behind me.
It was dumb. Loud. Overcrowded. Borderline chaotic.
And perfect.
The couch creaked under all the bodies crammed into it, the smell of melted cheese and warm crust thick in the air. Our laughter echoed off the walls, tangled with snarky comebacks, groans of defeat, and the occasional bark or squawk or meow.
Even Shadow looked like she was judging us less tonight.
Even Foxy allowed herself a faint, real smile.
Even Puriel, out of place and out of her divine jurisdiction, leaned into the noise and mess like she belonged there.
And me?
I was just happy.
Because after three days of dimension-hopping, warlord sparring, infernal negotiations, blood oaths and cursed palaces…
I got this.
Pizza grease. Uno penalties. Ruby’s dramatic pouts. Larry’s complaints. Tiffany’s ambush kisses. Foxy’s stare. Celia’s chaos. Pets napping around us like soft guardians.
This normalcy.
This dumb, messy, slice-of-life nonsense.
I loved it.
At last.
And then… the sound of car engines came. Yeah, plural, not one.