The Incubus System Chapter 1475. Duty is not Always Chosen

The Incubus System Chapter 1475. Duty is not Always Chosen

A faint, dry smile touched Lysathiel’s lips. “Sometimes terrible things prevent worse ones.”

“Wow,” Larry muttered. “That is definitely villain dialogue.”

“Larry,” I warned softly.

“What? It is.”

Lysathiel looked at him again. “You are bold for a human.”

Larry gave a weak smile. “I get that a lot lately.”

My eyes narrowed slightly.

Because yeah.

Lately.

Holy dreams. Divine whispers. Bloodline weirdness.

I didn’t like the way that word sat in the air.

Lysathiel noticed. Her gaze sharpened. “What happened to him?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Larry stiffened beside me.

She looked between us once.

Then her voice lowered.

“Something happened.”

I exhaled slowly. “Private matter.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You said that earlier.”

“And it’s still private.”

“You expect me to assess threats with incomplete information?”

“No.” I set my spoon down. “I expect you to stop pretending every private wound in my life is a state report.”

That made her pause.

I leaned back and looked at her properly now.

“You’re here to judge whether I’m dangerous.”

“Yes.”

“Then judge this.” My voice stayed low. “I’m dangerous when people touch what’s mine.”

Larry blinked at me.

I didn’t care.

“My women. My people. My friend.”

Lysathiel’s eyes flicked briefly toward Larry. “You are claiming him?”

Larry immediately raised a hand. “Friendship-wise.”

I gave him a deadpan look.

He shrugged. “Just clarifying. This table got weird ten minutes ago.”

Fair.

I looked back at Lysathiel. “You want to know if I’m evil? Fine. Watch me long enough.” My fingers tapped once against the tray. “But don’t mistake restraint for harmlessness.”

The air between us went still.

Lysathiel studied me quietly.

And for one second, the cafeteria lights caught her face in a way that made her look less like a queen and more like a tired woman pretending not to be tired.

“You speak like someone already at war,” she said.

I smiled faintly. “Maybe I’m just tired of being recruited into everyone else’s.”

That one silenced her.

Larry lowered his gaze slightly, expression tightening.

Because yeah.

He knew.

More than anyone here, he knew what it meant to be drafted by blood.

Lysathiel’s fingers tightened once around her cup.

Then loosened.

“Duty,” she said softly, “is not always chosen.”

“No,” I said. “But obedience is.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

There.

Another crack.

Small.

But real.

For a moment, I thought she might say something honest.

Something raw.

Something that wasn’t law or duty or responsibility.

Then her expression closed again.

Stone returned.

“Then perhaps,” she said, “you should be careful what you choose next.”

I smiled faintly. “Same to you.”

Larry whispered, “You two are terrifying.”

Neither of us answered him.

Because he was right.

And somehow?

That made everything worse.

Lysathiel stayed still for a few more seconds, her hand resting lightly on the edge of her tray, her face calm enough to look almost unreal. Like someone had carved elegance into marble and taught it how to breathe.

Then she stood.

Smooth.

Quiet.

No sudden movement. No anger. No divine pressure leaking out. Just a queen rising from a cafeteria chair as if that chair had been blessed by royal permission for five minutes and was now returning to peasant status.

“Thank you for the conversation,” she said.

Her tone was polite.

The kind of polite that made me wonder whether I had just planted a seed, stepped on a landmine, or both.

I looked up at her and forced a small smile. “Thank you for not trying to kill us.”

Larry slowly turned his head toward me with the expression of a man begging me to stop adding seasoning to the disaster.

Lysathiel stared at me.

Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

Not warm.

Not amused.

Bitter.

“You are welcome.”

And then she left.

She simply picked up her tray, turned, and walked away through the cafeteria like every other professor. Except every other professor didn’t carry the emotional weight of a dead goddess, a loveless marriage, a political throne, and my possible future murder in her posture.

Larry waited until she was far enough away.

Then he leaned toward me.

“Dude…”

I huffed and picked up my spoon again. “Let’s just eat, Larry.”

He stared at me.

Then at the spot Lysathiel had left.

Then back at me.

“I didn’t make everything worse, right?”

I chewed slowly.

Swallowed.

Considered lying.

Then decided honesty was probably safer after today’s entire emotional demolition session.

“Almost.”

Larry winced.

“But I don’t think so.”

“That is not reassuring.”

“It’s the best I have.”

He sighed and stabbed his rice with his fork like it personally offended him.

I leaned back slightly, glancing toward the cafeteria doors where Lysathiel had disappeared. “I can’t read her at all.”

And that was true.

Usually, even if I couldn’t fully understand someone, I could at least sense the direction of their emotion. Anger had a taste. Fear had weight. Lust had heat. Sadness sat heavy in the eyes.

But Lysathiel?

She was like looking at a locked room through frosted glass.

There was something inside.

I knew there was.

But every time it moved, she shut it down before I could see the shape.

“But yeah,” I continued quietly. “I pity her like you.”

Larry looked at me.

I pushed rice around my tray, appetite mostly dead.

“Sadly, from what I know, everything in the Light Dimension is according to rules. Laws. Duties. Positions. Roles. That kind of thing.”

Larry made a face. “So when she says feelings don’t matter…”

I nodded. “Since she’s the queen, what she said is probably… real.”

Maybe that was why Puriel had looked so free when she smiled in my house. Because compared to that realm, even my messy, poor, demon-infested home had more warmth than Heaven’s palace.

Larry shook his head immediately. “Nope.”

I raised a brow.

He pointed his fork at the table. “Nope. I don’t want to be part of them.”

“I mean, I want to be strong,” he said, his brows tightening. “I won’t lie. Who doesn’t? Especially after everything. Demon hunters, demons, angels, weird dreams. I don’t want to be useless.”

His voice lowered.

“But I don’t want to lose my feelings.”