The Incubus System Chapter 1489. Another Ethan’s Harem Candidate?

The Incubus System Chapter 1489. Another Ethan’s Harem Candidate?

Astra’s PoV

Inside Mrs. Clea’s house was not what Astra expected.

That was the first problem.

The second problem was that Astra had expected something at all.

A simple human home, perhaps.

Warm lights. Small furniture. The smell of tea and cooked meals. Maybe framed portraits, old books, worn rugs, and all the fragile softness humans attached to their lives because they aged too quickly and needed objects to hold memories before time stole them.

Mrs. Clea herself had given that impression at first glance.

A neighbor.

A woman with tied-back hair, sharp eyes, and grocery bags.

Perhaps a widow.

Perhaps a mother.

Astra had noticed the portrait near the doorway the moment they stepped inside. Mrs. Clea with a child beside her. A small kid with bright eyes, pointed ears, smiling with too much innocence for someone in a world like this.

So Astra assumed.

Widow.

Mother.

Human, perhaps with some hidden bloodline.

Simple enough.

She was wrong.

Very wrong.

The moment Mrs. Clea closed the door behind them, Astra felt the layers.

Not magic at first.

Technology.

Then magic.

Then technology again.

Tiny red points blinked across the ceiling corners. Not decorative. Surveillance. The hallway held thin, almost invisible beams stretched at ankle and throat height. Laser traps. Pressure sensors under the rug. Rune needles embedded behind framed pictures. A narrow strip of silver beneath the windowsill humming with anti-demon current.

Astra stopped walking.

Puriel did not.

Which meant Puriel already knew.

Astra slowly turned her gaze toward Mrs. Clea.

The woman smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. They won’t activate unless I want them to.”

That was not comforting.

In fact, that was the opposite of comforting.

Astra looked again.

More traps.

So many traps.

This house was not a home.

It was a disguised bunker wearing curtains.

Then the portrait moved.

No. Something near it.

A large eagle perched on a stand beside the wall opened its eyes and stared directly at Astra.

A familiar.

Astra sensed it immediately.

Bound soul. Shared mana. Shape-shifting structure.

The eagle ruffled its feathers, then hopped down.

Light shimmered around it.

The body shifted.

Feathers folded inward. Wings became arms. Talons softened into small feet. In seconds, a child stood there instead.

An elf child.

Pointed ears. Bright eyes. Small frame. The same child from the portrait.

Astra stared.

The child tilted her head. “You’re angels.”

Puriel smiled gently. “Yes.”

The child looked at Astra longer. “You look embarrassed.”

Astra’s entire soul froze.

Mrs. Clea cleared her throat. “Alan.”

The elf child shrugged, then returned to eagle form and flew up to a high perch near the ceiling.

Astra said nothing.

But inside, something shifted.

So this was not Mrs. Clea’s biological son.

A familiar.

This woman was not simple.

This woman had lost too much.

Only people who lost too much built homes like fortresses and made family out of things the world could not easily steal again.

Mrs. Clea guided them into the sitting room.

It was warm despite everything.

That somehow made the traps worse.

Astra sat carefully on the couch after Puriel did, back straight, hands folded on her lap, pretending she had not been thoroughly intimidated by a human neighbor’s living room.

Mrs. Clea placed tea in front of both angels.

No snacks.

Mrs. Clea knew angels could not easily eat ordinary human food.

That meant she knew more than expected.

Mrs. Clea sat across from them, calm as a woman hosting ordinary guests instead of two beings from the Light Dimension.

“This is the first time I’ve seen another angel besides you, Puriel,” she said. Her gaze moved to Astra. “So I assume Ethan is doing well with the Light Dimension?”

Astra did not answer immediately.

Mrs. Clea continued, voice mild. “No war will happen in the human world soon?”

Puriel’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup. “I hope not.”

Mrs. Clea heard it. Her eyes sharpened.

Puriel glanced at Astra. “Her name is Astra,” she said. “She came here… not as a representative of the Light Dimension.”

Astra’s gaze shifted.

Puriel smiled faintly. “She came because of him.”

Mrs. Clea’s brows rose. “So…” A pause. Then, very calmly…

“Another Ethan’s harem candidate?”

Astra nearly dropped her tea. “I am not.”

The response came too fast.

Puriel blinked.

Mrs. Clea blinked.

Astra felt heat climbing her face again, traitorous and unstoppable. She gripped the cup tightly. “I am not going to be his toy,” she said stiffly. “Or something he uses to satisfy his desire.”

The words came out sharper than intended.

Maybe because the memory from Ethan’s room flashed again.

His voice.

The queens obeying not like dolls, but like women who trusted the hand holding power over them.

Astra swallowed.

Mrs. Clea and Puriel exchanged a glance. That glance was somehow worse than laughter.

Mrs. Clea lifted one hand gently. “Calm down, my dear. Ethan isn’t like that.”

Puriel nodded. “Nah. He is far from that.”

Astra looked at her.

Puriel’s lips curved with a small, almost amused softness. “He is a pervert, yes.”

Mrs. Clea sighed lightly, but did not deny it.

Puriel continued, “But he is a gentleman.”

That made Astra silent.

A pervert. But a gentleman.

Somehow, after everything Astra had seen and heard, that contradiction made terrible sense.

He attracted women like disaster attracted paperwork. He was surrounded by desire, hunger, affection, and absurd domestic chaos. But he did not treat those women as objects. He saw them. Protected them. Fed them. Let them lean on him. Let himself be dragged, teased, kissed, scolded, and challenged.

He commanded when invited.

Not because he wanted to break them.

Because they trusted him not to.

Astra lowered her gaze to the tea.

The steam curled upward quietly.

Then something else clicked inside her mind.

She looked at Mrs. Clea again. “Wait… Why did you ask that question?”

Mrs. Clea tilted her head. “What question?”

Astra’s eyes narrowed. “About war. About the Light Dimension fighting Ethan.”

Puriel went quiet.

Mrs. Clea did not look surprised.

Astra slowly set her cup down. “What are you…?”

Mrs. Clea smiled faintly. “Demon Hunter Association chief.”

Astra stared.

Of all the possible answers, that one should not have surprised her.

And yet it did.