Succubi Chapter 51. I'm Not The Harem Protagonist
I didn't even argue.
Because there's something about being completely wrecked—physically, emotionally, pridefully—by a smug virgin succubus that just… doesn't leave room for rebuttals.
My spine was humming.
My pride? Somewhere between purring and sulking.
I grabbed my towel, finally wrapping it around my waist like some half-dignified post-coital war hero, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Yup. That was me. Damp hair. Shower-steamed skin. Bite marks on my shoulder. Lips a little swollen from too much kissing. Eyes slightly glazed.
And somehow, I looked happy.
Dazed. But happy.
I sighed, ran a hand through my hair, and reached for my shower kit—the usual boring stuff: soap, toothbrush, razor.
The kit jingled quietly as I zipped it closed.
Behind me, Val was humming under the warm water again like she didn't just obliterate my entire emotional compass and then ask me to take her for a date.
Succubus logic.
I glanced at her one last time—her silhouette barely visible through the curling steam. Yeah. She was gonna stay in there a while. Probably needed time to recalibrate her own chaos levels.
So, I did the logical thing.
I padded out of the bathroom barefoot, water still dripping from my neck, towel secure around my waist, shower bag in hand.
My clothes? They all were wet due to our 'spontaneous activities'.
And I walked straight into a goddamn ambush.
"WELL, WELL, WELL," Rivy drawled from the hallway bench like a smug little gremlin in red lace. "Look who finally emerged."
My soul nearly left my body.
Rivy was sitting there like she owned the corridor—legs crossed, teeth barely hidden, one hand flipping a strand of hair. And right beside her?
Gladia.
Holding a massive bowl of popcorn.
She didn't even blink. Just popped another handful in her mouth with a big innocent smile like this was a soap opera and she was the main audience demographic.
"…No," I said flatly.
"Yes," Rivy shot back instantly.
Gladia leaned forward, eyes sparkling like she was watching the highlight reel in her head. "So… who claimed who?"
I stared at them. They stared at me. Three seconds passed. My brain completely froze.
Then Gladia, voice chipper as hell, added, "Did Val break your heart yet?"
"I—what? No!"
Rivy tilted her head, pretending to listen carefully. "Huh. Sounded like you had a good time in there."
Gladia smiled. "So not yet?"
"What?"
"I mean," she said, chewing loudly, "Val hasn't broken your heart yet?"
I looked between them, my expression flat. "She likes me."
That shut them up.
Kind of.
Rivy's eyes lit up. "Oh-ho-ho-ho! She admitted it?"
"She did," I grumbled, heading toward my room with as much dignity as a man in a towel could muster.
Gladia whispered—not quietly—"Oh great, you heard that, Evelyn?"
My foot stopped.
Wait.
Wait wait wait.
Evelyn?
I blinked. Slowly. My brain piecing together the echo of that name, the direction Gladia had glanced in, and the faintest hint of mana signature hiding just behind the hallway divider.
I turned my head, just barely.
And yup.
There she was.
In full freeze-frame panic.
Eyes wide. Hair a mess. A towel in her own hands like she'd just pretended to be going for her bath… but hadn't even gotten the door open.
Our eyes locked.
And she ran.
Like bolted.
Slipped first—scrambled actually—and then full-on took off down the hall like I'd just caught her stealing cookies at midnight.
"EVELYN," I shouted, half-laughing, half-embarrassed.
Too late.
Gone.
I stood there, towel still on, hair still wet, Rivy snickering behind me like a hyena with a law degree.
"I knew she couldn't resist eavesdropping," she said, stretching like a cat. "She was already pacing when you didn't come out after ten minutes."
Gladia nodded solemnly, mouth full. "She's always the quiet ones."
I groaned and covered my face. "You were all outside the bathroom?"
"Only for the last twenty minutes," Rivy said, as if that made it better.
"We were hungry," Gladia added cheerfully. "Lilith's cooking. Dinner's almost ready. And, well… your little performance was the only entertainment we had."
I cleared my throat and adjusted my grip on my shower kit. "Glad to know I'm a featured broadcast now."
"A very spicy one," Rivy smirked, twirling a strand of her hair. "Don't be so uptight. You were just doing your princely duties, right?"
Gladia leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "So? Is she gonna be your consort now? Or are we calling her your battle bride?"
"…I don't even know what that means," I muttered, heading toward my room.
"You better figure it out fast," Rivy called after me. "The two of you practically fused your mana signatures in there."
"That's not even possible."
"Oh, Evan," Gladia cooed, tossing a popcorn kernel in the air and catching it with a grin, "everything's possible when you're in love."
I paused mid-step.
My heart did a stupid little skip.
And yeah… I didn't correct her.
Because maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to.
Before I could even reach my doorknob, Rivy slinked closer.
"Evan," she purred, the sound of my name practically a smirk in itself.
I turned—too slow, apparently—because by the time I faced her, she was already up in my space, fingertips trailing lightly across my shoulder, down my arm, to my wrist.
"You didn't answer," she said, voice playful. "So?"
I blinked. "So what?"
Gladia suddenly popped up beside me—bowl still in hand, popcorn rustling. Her grin was wicked. Innocent. Dangerous. Like a child holding a dagger made of candy. "Do you like her?"
"I—" I hesitated. Bad move.
Rivy's fingers brushed across my collarbone, featherlight, her body so close I could feel the heat radiating off her. "You hesitated."
Gladia gasped like I just admitted to murder. "He does."
"Shut up," I muttered, trying to step back.
Except my back hit the wall.
Yeah. I was cornered.
Gladia giggled and shoved a kernel of popcorn into my mouth like it was some kind of interrogation snack. "Tell us, tell us, tell us—do you like her back?"
The popcorn hit my tongue. Salty. Slightly caramelized. Still warm.
I chewed. Slowly. Because what the hell else could I do?
Rivy leaned in, her fingers still tracing idle patterns on my chest now. "She said it first, didn't she?" Her lips were dangerously close to my jaw. "She told you she liked you."
My voice was a little rough. "Yeah."
"And?" Gladia asked, leaning forward from the other side and whispering like we were sharing forbidden gossip. "What did you say?"
"I said…" I exhaled. "I didn't really say anything."
Rivy clicked her tongue in mock disappointment. "Tsk, tsk. You made the poor girl confess and then ghosted her with silence?"
"She didn't seem to mind," I grumbled.
Gladia, somehow without spilling a single kernel, climbed halfway onto the bench beside me so her face was level with mine. Her fingers brushed my jaw and turned my head so I was facing her.
"Do you like her," she asked again, slower now, gaze softer—but her smile stayed playful.
I looked at her. Really looked.
The mischievous sparkle. The pink lips still sticky from sugar. The boldness of a succubus who didn't care about personal space and thought flirting counted as cardio.
And yet… this wasn't just teasing anymore.
This was testing.
They wanted to know.
Rivy's hand had slid to my waist now, her palm warm against my damp skin, fingers ghosting just under the edge of the towel. Gladia fed me another piece of popcorn. Like I was some rare pet they were trying to coax into talking.
I chewed again. Glared at them both. "This is unfair."
"That's not a no," Rivy said with a slow smirk.
"And you haven't run away," Gladia chimed, twirling a kernel between her fingers like she was casting a spell.
My lips twitched. "You two always gang up on people like this?"
"Only the ones we like," they said—in perfect sync.
That made me pause.
I swallowed. "So, you like me?"
Gladia giggled and plopped herself comfortably into my personal bubble. "Well, you're hot. And weird. And your aura flares when you're embarrassed—it's like watching a Pride demon malfunction."
"She means yes," Rivy translated, now leaning her head against my shoulder like she owned it. "But we're not confessing. You are."
"You're just touching me to make me nervous," I accused.
"Is it working?" Rivy purred.
"...Yes."
They both beamed.
"I'm going to change," I said, making zero actual effort to leave because my feet had apparently forgotten how.
Gladia gave me a fake sad look and pulled back slightly—just enough to look dramatically betrayed. "Aww. And I had so much popcorn left."
"You fed me half of it already."
"I was building trust."
I shook my head and finally managed to shuffle toward my room. They followed, obviously.
"So?" Gladia asked again, tone lighter now, sing-songy. "You like her?"
I turned at the door, bag dangling from my hand, water still dripping down my spine.
"Yeah," I said simply. "I think I do."
Rivy blinked, genuinely surprised.
Gladia's eyes widened. "Oh. You're serious."
I nodded once. "I just don't know what that means yet. But it's not just a one-time thing. It's not just about the… you know."
"The sex," Rivy supplied like it was no big deal.
I coughed. "Yes. That."
There was a beat of silence between the three of us.
Then Gladia let out a soft little laugh, not teasing this time. "Well… that's kind of sweet."
I narrowed my eyes. "You two really aren't jealous?"
They looked at each other.
Then back at me.
Then both leaned forward in perfect devilish harmony.
"Who said we aren't claiming our turn later?" Rivy asked with a grin.
Gladia winked. "One prince. Multiple demons. Sounds fair."
And then, just like that, they turned on their heels and started down the hallway, hips swaying with exaggerated, synchronized flair.
"Dinner at six!" Gladia called over her shoulder. "Lilith made stew. Don't be late!"
"I swear I'm not the harem protagonist," I muttered.
"Yet!" they sang in unison, disappearing around the corner.
And I stood there, towel dripping, bag in hand, trying to figure out how my life had gone from being stabbed in a training arena to being seduced by four succubi in under a week.
I sighed.
Then, with the faintest smile pulling at my lips, I walked into my room to get dressed.
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