Succubi Chapter 244. Wines and Snacks III

Succubi Chapter 244. Wines and Snacks III

Val sat elegantly despite looking like she had walked through chaos. “They tried to summon something above their budget.”

I blinked. “Above their budget?”

“They lacked resources, skill, and aesthetic sense.”

“Val, only you can insult cultists financially.”

“They deserved it.”

Sera slid into the chair beside me and immediately leaned against my arm like I was furniture assigned by fate. “I healed. Then slept. Then healed again.”

“That sounds like you.”

“Mhm. One tried to grab me.”

I looked down at her.

Her eyes remained closed.

Rivy’s grin sharpened. “He doesn’t have that hand anymore.”

I stared.

Sera yawned. “Temporary. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Val waved a hand. “He’ll recover if he gets himself a professional healer.”

One minion brought plates. Another brought bread, cheese, sliced meat, fruit, and small desserts. A third carried glasses with the seriousness of a priest handling sacred relics. Then, from the corridor, a softer presence approached.

I stared after it.

“…Why did that feel ceremonial?”

Val suddenly paused.

“Wait.”

I looked at her. “What?”

Her eyes moved from the snacks to the wine, then to the dining room around us. Her smile changed into something calculating.

Oh no.

Greed smile.

Dangerous.

“How about we eat in my room?”

I blinked. “That’s okay?”

“It’s okay.”

“Why not here?”

Val lifted one finger, as if explaining a business model to a child. “Because with these snacks and your wine, we might need one more thing to complete the experience.”

Sera, leaning against my arm like sleepy furniture with hair, murmured, “A bed and pillows.”

Rivy slammed one hand lightly on the table. “Netplik!”

Val ignored Sera with the grace of a woman avoiding operational inefficiency.

“Yes. Netplik. Entertainment.” She turned to me. “Do you agree, Evan?”

I looked at the snacks.

Then the wine.

Then the three girls.

Then my own very tired soul that had danced, dueled, rejected seduction, avoided green tea traps, reported a mission, and somehow still had room for bad decisions.

“Let’s go.”

Rivy grinned. “Good boy.”

I pointed at her. “Careful.”

She pointed back. “Or what?”

I had no answer.

A tragedy.

Val turned toward the minions. “To my room. And don’t forget the wine glasses.”

The minions grumbled.

All of them.

It was like listening to tiny old men complain about government policy.

But they did it.

Because Val had that Greed House authority, and apparently even grumpy imps understood logistics when luxury wine was involved.

Rivy grabbed one plate. Sera somehow grabbed two pillows from nowhere, which raised questions I was too tired to ask. The whole operation moved toward the corridor like a suspicious midnight picnic.

I followed for two steps, then paused.

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

Val glanced back. “Don’t run away with the wine.”

“I brought the wine.”

“Exactly. Emotional attachment increases theft risk.”

I stared at her.

She smiled.

I went to the kitchen instead.

Not for long.

Just enough to take one bottle from the box and place it carefully on the counter. It looked painfully expensive sitting there under the warm kitchen light, like a noble pretending not to judge the cabinets.

I found a small piece of paper and wrote a note.

“For Lilith. Thank you for dinner. I came back safe.”

I paused.

Then added one more line.

“I kept my dignity too.”

That felt embarrassing.

So I stared at it for a second, considered scratching it out, then didn’t.

Whatever.

Let her tease me later.

I placed the note under the bottle, adjusted it so it wouldn’t get missed, then left the kitchen before my emotions started doing paperwork.

Val’s room wasn’t far, but by the time I reached it, noise was already spilling into the corridor.

Rivy laughing.

Sera mumbling something sleepy.

Val telling someone not to put greasy meat near fabric.

A minion grumbling like it had witnessed moral collapse.

I opened the door.

“Let’s eat—”

Then froze.

Oh.

So this was how I died.

Not by noble duel.

By entering Val’s room and suffering visual overload.

They had already peeled off their uniforms.

All three of them.

Not fully naked, thankfully, because my brain might have walked straight into the afterlife. But still. The academy uniforms were gone, scattered over chairs and the edge of the bed like the casualties of war.

Val wore a loose white shirt that slipped off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and a black strap beneath, paired with dark underwear that made her legs look unfairly long.

Rivy had thrown on a messy oversized shirt that barely respected gravity, her muscular thighs bare as she sat cross-legged on the rug like a warrior queen at a sleepover.

Sera was curled half sideways against pillows, wearing a wrinkled shirt so large it swallowed her frame, while one tentacle lazily held a piece of cheese hostage.

Food already covered the low table.

The TV was on.

Netplik glowed on the screen with a menu full of romance dramas, horror shows, and one documentary about dungeon economics because apparently Val’s recommendations were cursed.

The room itself smelled like snacks, soap, faint blood still clinging to their hair, and that soft warm scent succubi carried when they got comfortable.

Val looked at me from the floor cushion and smiled like nothing was wrong.

“C’mon, Evan. Get in.”

I stepped inside slowly.

Very slowly.

“How did you guys change that fast?”

Rivy picked up a piece of meat with her fingers. “Skill.”

“Ah, wait. Better question.” I closed the door behind me. “How are you guys that shameless? I’m a guy.”

Rivy’s grin turned sharp. “We’re succubi.”

Sera lifted one sleepy finger. “Besides, you’re demon like us. What shame?”

“There should still be some shame.”

Sera’s eyes half opened. “That pride demon thing.”

I froze.

Val glanced at her.

Rivy blinked.

Sera chewed the cheese like she had not just launched a bomb into the room.

My heartbeat paused.

Then I realized again, she wasn’t exposing me. Probably. Sera said things like that casually because she liked poking sensitive nerves with sleepy precision. The others might take it as teasing about my personality, not race.