The Incubus System Chapter 1477. Premium Dream Subscription

The Incubus System Chapter 1477. Premium Dream Subscription

She glanced around.

Then shrugged.

“It looks nice.”

“It looks like a noble vampire widow married a spider duchess and opened a haunted boutique.”

Nefaris touched her chest. “How flattering.”

“It wasn’t—”

Syntyche smiled. “Thank you.”

I gave up.

Puriel stepped closer, expression gentle. “Yes, it was expensive, but you are the prince of the Dark Dimension, remember? This is not a big deal.”

I pressed my lips together.

Yup.

There it was again.

Why did I keep forgetting that whenever I was in the human world?

In my head, I was still Ethan.

Poor student.

Budget breakfast.

Old furniture.

Cheap table.

House inherited from Dad.

But to them?

I was Damian Lucio Malignus.

Crown Prince.

Future king.

Apparently someone whose living room deserved cursed luxury.

Syntyche lifted one finger cheerfully. “And I have a lot of jewelry. One stone was enough to buy all this.”

“One stone?” I repeated.

Nefaris nodded. “We need a good place to stay. So here we are.”

I stared at them.

Then at the couch.

Then at the skull.

Then at Celia, who looked way too pleased with herself.

Larry finally moved. He slowly crouched and patted Red’s head while still staring at the living room.

“Ethan.”

“Yeah?”

“I think your poverty arc ended while we were at school.”

I looked around again. Then sighed so deeply my soul probably left my body and sat on the expensive couch first.

“Apparently.”

Astra’s brows lifted slightly. “What about a thank you?”

I turned my head toward her.

She stood there with arms folded, expression composed, chin raised, like an angelic supervisor who had completed a renovation project and now expected performance evaluation. “Since we worked hard for this,” she added.

For a second, I almost said it.

Almost.

‘But I didn’t request any of this!’

The sentence rose in my throat like a very reasonable complaint. Because yeah. I had not asked anyone to turn my humble living room into an expensive witch cave. I did not submit a redesign form. I did not sign furniture authorization. I did not approve dark velvet, glowing crystal lamps, or whatever potentially cursed skull was sitting on the shelf like it paid rent.

But then I looked around again.

The furniture really was nice.

Ridiculously nice.

The couch looked comfortable enough to commit emotional recovery on. The lighting was warm but not too bright. The table was sturdy. The curtains actually blocked outside visibility. The shelves gave the room more storage. The wallpaper, while dramatically suspicious, made the place feel less like “poor student surviving on budget meals” and more like “secret supernatural base with taste.”

Also…

They did work hard.

Apparently.

While I was at college trying not to emotionally seduce a queen and accidentally dragging Larry deeper into holy conspiracy, my house had been conquered by interior design.

So yeah.

Proper thank you first.

I pressed my lips together, swallowed all my complaints, and gave them a small nod. “Thank you.”

Astra’s expression softened by half a millimeter. “Nice.”

“That’s it?”

“That is enough.”

Syntyche smiled proudly and ran her fingers along the back of the velvet couch. “See? He likes it.”

“I did not say that.”

“You thanked us.”

“That means I recognize labor.”

Nefaris chuckled, sitting gracefully on the new couch like she had been born specifically to occupy expensive furniture. “My love, denial does not suit you.”

“I deny that.”

Larry leaned slightly toward me while Red continued wagging his tail at his feet. “Your house has better furniture than some hotels now.”

“I know,” I muttered. “That’s what bothers me.”

Because yeah.

There were a lot of questions in my head.

A lot.

Like why they suddenly decided they needed to redecorate my house.

Why Celia, my little sister who normally worried about food costs and laundry, suddenly approved furniture worth millions of Creds like she was managing a royal budget.

And most importantly…

Why Astra, who earlier looked ready to stab Syntyche and Nefaris with holy authority, had apparently worked together with them on wallpaper.

That one bothered me the most.

I looked at Astra.

Then at Syntyche.

Then at Nefaris.

“You three worked together?”

Astra’s face didn’t change. “Yes.”

Syntyche smiled sweetly. “We disagreed on some details.”

Nefaris crossed her legs. “Only three times.”

Puriel coughed quietly. “Seven.”

Celia corrected from the kitchen doorway, “Nine.”

Astra glanced away. “I was counting major disagreements.”

I stared at them. “Did anyone try to kill anyone?”

“No,” Puriel said quickly.

Syntyche tilted her head. “Not seriously.”

Astra’s eyes sharpened. “I considered it once.”

Nefaris smiled. “Twice.”

I rubbed my face. “Great. Fantastic. My house survived interior design diplomacy.”

Celia looked at Larry then, as if only now fully noticing his statue-like shock in the entrance. “Why are you bringing Larry here?”

Larry lifted one hand weakly. “Hello to you too.”

“Hi,” Celia said. “Why are you here?”

I exhaled and turned serious again. “Larry had a dream last night.”

The room’s mood shifted.

Not loudly.

But instantly.

Red pressed closer to Larry’s leg.

I looked toward Puriel. “Someone told him about holy power.”

Puriel’s expression changed first.

Not shock.

Concern.

Deep concern.

I continued, “A voice. Dream-like. Whispering. Singing. Something about a holy child of light. Light being dim. Accept more power. Be stronger. Inherit pure light.”

Astra’s eyes narrowed.

Larry grimaced. “Yeah. Hearing it out loud makes it sound worse.”

“It sounded bad when you said it the first time too,” I muttered.

I looked at Puriel again. “You’re a dream spell specialist, right? Can you do something about it?”

Astra answered before Puriel could. “All angels are dream specialists.”

I looked at her.

She tilted her head.

“The dream realm is one of the Light Realm’s oldest domains. Messages, guidance, prophecy, warnings, emotional imprinting, soul contact—”

“Yeah, yeah, Light Dimension has premium dream subscription,” I said. “I got it.”

Larry whispered, “Do not make jokes about dream subscription when I’m the customer.”

“Sorry.”

Puriel stepped forward, her expression gentle but focused.

“Tell me what happened,” she said to Larry. “Everything you remember. Then tell me what you want to do with it.”