The Incubus System Chapter 1313. I’m a Puzzle

The Incubus System Chapter 1313. I’m a Puzzle

Foxy barked-laughed and chased her, tails wagging like a lunatic.

Celia stepped beside me, eyes fixed on the horizon. “You look like a real person right now.”

I blinked. “Thanks… I think?”

She bumped her shoulder into mine, soft but deliberate. “It’s a compliment. Rare one.”

Puriel walked up at that point, heels clicking softly on the wooden deck as she stepped onto the sand. “I told them not to interrupt,” she said, calm and light, “but Diamond bet a hundred bucks you were crying.”

“I was not.”

“I told her you weren’t,” Puriel added. “I said he’s too stubborn to cry in front of the sea. He only cries when people leave.”

The wind dropped for a second.

Even Celia flinched a bit.

I didn’t answer.

Because she was right.

But I still looked out at the water and said, “It felt like someone gave me back a piece I didn’t know was missing.”

Puriel stepped a little closer, her hand brushing my arm. “Then maybe stop losing pieces in the first place.”

“I’m a puzzle,” I whispered. “It’s kinda my thing.”

She chuckled. “You’re something, alright.”

The sound of Tiffany and Foxy laughing in the waves pulled our attention. Foxy turned into her bigger form. Tiffany jumped onto Foxy’s back, riding her like a fluffy surfboard, screaming something about sea dragons.

Celia sighed. “They’re going to catch a cold.”

“They’ll catch joy,” I said. “And that’s rarer.”

Celia stared at me for a long second. Then handed me the rest of her drink.

“C’mon,” she muttered, walking back toward the villa.

I watched her go, still sipping the mango fizz. Sweet. Sharp. Kinda like her.

Puriel stayed beside me, hands tucked behind her, eyes half-lidded as the last light stretched across the sea. She didn’t say anything for a while. Just stood there with me. Silent. Close. Like she understood the exact kind of quiet I needed.

Then, in that soft, almost too-real voice of hers, she said,

“You look free, Ethan.”

My heart did a weird little twist.

Free.

Yeah… she said it like it wasn’t a compliment.

I didn’t answer right away. I just let the breeze hit me, ruffling my hair, salty air clinging to my skin.

“Yeah,” I finally said. “This… is a rare thing I ever felt.”

She looked up at me, just a little. Her blonde hair swayed in the breeze, glowing in the orange light.

“I’m happy,” I added, letting the words fall. “Actually happy.”

Her smile was small. But honest. “Good.”

I turned toward the villa. “Let’s go back.”

She nodded once.

I snapped my fingers, a low flick of magic humming through my fingertips as Demon’s Clothes activated again—fabric weaving itself around my body like shadow-thread. This time, I conjured something simple. Gray t-shirt. Loose black shorts. Flip-flops. Yeah, flip-flops.

I was in the mood for a beach nap and a warm dinner.

We walked side by side, silent. No rush. Just the sound of Foxy yapping somewhere behind us, waves still rolling in, and the breeze rustling through palm trees. The path to the villa was stone, lined with faintly glowing lights set into the ground. Subtle luxury. Not flashy.

And me?

I felt calm.

Like the fight was over.

The villa loomed up again—sleek glass doors, wraparound deck, white stone walls, and that expensive coastal-modern architecture that whispered money but didn’t scream it. The lights were warm inside, soft yellow. The smell of dinner hung in the air. Garlic. Lemongrass. Maybe some grilled seafood.

I stepped inside.

And yeah… I paused.

Because damn.

This place was cool. Not just rich—though it was. But… good taste rich. Not the kind of gold-and-blood opulence demons throw around. This was the type that said, “I made it out. I built peace. Now I’m living it.”

I exhaled and laughed quietly to myself.

Yeah, I knew I was a demon prince. I should be used to this. But something about stepping back into the mortal world always stripped it away. Made me feel like the broke college kid I used to be. Backpack. Instant noodles. Public transportation.

So this?

This villa?

Yeah. It was cool.

I tried to put on my usual calm face, that effortless confidence I wore like cologne.

But then I remembered—

I didn’t have to.

Not here.

Not with them.

This place? It was just me and the girls.

My girls.

No pretending.

Celia appeared from the living room, holding a bottle of water and wearing one of those high-cut sports shorts and a loose tank top that made her look like a fitness influencer and a mafia princess at the same time.

She nodded at me. “Your bag’s on the sofa.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Thanks.”

I stepped over to the giant white couch and spotted my one-and-only travel bag. Just a small, black tactical duffle. Worn from years. The zipper had a skull-shaped charm from some old merch line. It was faded now, barely noticeable.

I grabbed it, slung it over my shoulder.

Yeah. That was all I brought.

One bag.

One demon.

No entourage. No trunks of clothes.

Why?

Because I didn’t need to.

I could make my clothes. Summon them. Burn them. Recreate them from ash. I had skills that warped fabric to fit my mood. So I only packed what mattered.

Toothbrush. Deodorant. A comb. Soaps. Shampoo.

Necessities.

I didn’t say anything as I set the bag down in the hallway.

Didn’t need to.

Puriel wandered ahead, drawn by the smell of whatever meal someone was finishing up in the open kitchen.

Celia poured herself a glass of something carbonated. Probably soda with fruit flavor.

I walked over to the wide glass doors that faced the sea again, just to look. The sky was darker now. Fewer oranges, more indigos. Stars coming out.