Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

{Melisa}

The stage sat in the center of the square, draped in layers of purple and gold fabric that sparkled like freshly polished jewels under the midday sun.

[Man, Malachim really went all out with the presentation, huh?]

Behind it, a line of chairs for the noble guests gleamed, their polished wood and velvet cushions screaming wealth and status.

Lord Malachim, in dazzling golden robes, stood at the edge of the stage, gesturing back and forth like an orchestra conductor.

"Now listen closely," Malachim began, his voice low enough to remain between their group but firm enough to demand focus. "We keep this short and sharp, but patient and calm. This showcase falls into three little parts. Part one, Isabella introduces the wand. Part two, Melisa, you demonstrate its capabilities. And, finally, part three, Isabella follows up with the customization pitch—colors, designs, affinities—and then we conclude." He clapped his hands once, the sharp sound punctuating his words. "Quick, clean, and impressive. Understood?"

"Yes, your lordship," Isabella replied, her tone dripping with mock reverence as she rolled her eyes. "Hook 'em, don't bore them, Melisa stuns them, and I climax."

"Hopefully not literally," Raven said and Isabella actually blushed.

Melisa stifled a cackle.

[Raven??? Teasing Isabella????? Where did my stoic, emotionless assassin go!?!?]

Malachim's mouth twitched, but he also managed to suppress his laugh.

"Good. Now, understand nobles are fickle creatures, and the masses follow their lead. They must want what you're offering."

[No pressure, right? Just convince an entire city that wands are the next big thing while waiting for the proverbial orcs to march on our proverbial walls.] Melisa shifted on her feet, resisting the urge to tug at her uniform jacket for the fiftieth time. Her tail curled tight around her thigh as if trying to anchor her to the ground.

"And Melisa," Malachim turned to her, his golden-trimmed sleeves shimmering as he gestured, "your demonstration must be flawless. No theatrics beyond what's necessary, however. The whole point of these 'wands' is that they allow for increased spellcasting control. Your presentation should reflect that.

"Got it," Melisa replied, though her nerves sparked like Essence surging through her veins.

Malachim straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from his robe.

"Then let us begin. Isabella, take your place."

But just as Isabella stepped forward, the murmur of the crowd swelled into something more—a collective shift in focus that turned heads toward the far end of the square. Melisa followed their gaze, her heart skipping a beat.

The royal carriage had arrived.

The polished surface gleamed in the sunlight, the intricate crest of the Syux royal family catching the light like a beacon.

Guards flanked the carriage as Princess Aria stepped out, her petite frame poised with an elegance that belied the sharpness in her eyes. Her long white hair tumbled over her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight, and her movements were slow, deliberate, as if she owned every inch of the square.

The crowd reacted predictably, their whispers swelling into an audible buzz.

"She's so beautiful—"

"Do you think she'll speak?"

"Why would the princess come to this?"

Aria didn't acknowledge the murmurs. Instead, she ascended to the front row of seats with a grace that made her look more like a doll on display than a living, breathing person. When she turned to face the crowd, her voice rang out clear and crisp.

"It is not often," she began, her tone clipped with just the right amount of superiority, "that we have the opportunity to witness the birth of a true innovation. Today, we are gathered to see what may become the foundation of a new magical age. Let us hope this invention lives up to the expectations it has created."

Her grey eyes swept the stage, locking onto Melisa's with the precision of a predator. The weight of that gaze made Melisa's stomach churn.

[What does she want? Is this just about the wand, or is she here to watch me fail? No—focus. If this works, and if the Shadow Mages attack us, maybe she'll finally stop thinking I had anything to do with her mother's death.]

Aria's lips curved into a faint smile. That look in her eyes, sharp and calculating, made the tip of Melisa's tail vibrate.

[Great. She's here to dissect everything I do, isn't she?] Melisa straightened, forcing herself to return the princess's stare without flinching. [Two can play that game.]

"Don't let her psych you out," Isabella whispered, nudging her with an elbow, her grin sharp enough to cut glass. "Besides, you've got me here. What could go wrong?"

[... Everything.]

But Melisa didn't say that out loud.

Malachim clapped again, cutting through the tension like a knife.
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"Alright, enough distractions. Let's get this show on the road! Isabella, take the stage."

With a deep breath, Isabella stepped forward.

The crowd... didn't really react at all. Well, naturally, right? They didn't know her yet. But, a few murmurs of curiosity rippled through the square.

"Hello, everyone!" Isabella's voice rang out, bright and bubbly, though her tail betrayed the nervous energy she was trying to hide. "Thank you all for joining us today to witness what I believe will be the start of something incredible!"

Her confidence grew with every word. She twirled the wand in her fingers, letting the engraved runes catch the light.

"This," she said, holding it up for all to see, "is a wand. And, it is not just a tool. It's a revolution. Wands will make magic accessible to more people than ever before—regardless of talent or training!"

[Damn, she's got a voice,] Melisa thought, arms crossed.

Sure, she'd expected some amount of natural charisma from a girl like Isabella [I mean, you don't just behave like the world's biggest slut without having SOME confidence, I guess,] but the kitsune looked so... so totally in her element that Melisa still couldn't help but be impressed.

Even the nobles, usually reserved and skeptical, seemed intrigued.

[She's good,] Melisa thought, her tail finally relaxing just a little. [Really good.]

But her eyes drifted back to Aria, who sat unmoving, her sharp gaze fixed on the stage. The princess's calm exterior was a stark contrast to the growing buzz of the crowd.

[But... This is about way more than just showing off Isabella's wands, though.] Melisa exhaled slowly. [At some point, the Shadow Mages are coming. And, when they do, we'll be ready.]

---

{Armia}

On the stage, Isabella twirled her wand, her voice ringing out like the chiming of a bell.

"This wand," Isabella declared, holding it up for all to see, "isn't just an invention. It's a symbol of possibility!"

[... That's a little much, isn't it?] Armia's lips pressed into a thin line as she watched the crowd lean in, captivated by Isabella's pitch. [Well, she is definitely good at this,] Armia admitted to herself, her orange eyes scanning the audience.

And yet, despite the crowd's growing excitement, Armia's thoughts kept drifting. Her gaze swept over the square, lingering on the edges of the crowd, where faces just blurred together.

Somewhere out there, the Shadow Mages were hiding.

[They're here. I know they are.] The thought sat heavily in her chest, a quiet weight that refused to lift. [This is the moment. We're ready. I'm ready.]

Her hands rested on her lap, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of her uniform trousers. The desire for action tugged at her, a gentle but insistent pull.

Not rage—she'd moved past that raw anger—but a steady resolve that hummed beneath her skin. They had taken her brother. They had torn a hole in her family. And now? Now it was time to balance the scales.

"Armia."

Javir's voice drew her out of her thoughts like a hand on her shoulder. She glanced to the side, meeting her teacher's calm, steady gaze. Javir was standing a step behind her, arms crossed loosely, her sunlight-colored hair catching the glow of the magical lights.

"You're too tense," Javir said softly, her tone gentle but firm. "I can see it from a mile away."

Armia straightened even more, forcing her shoulders back.

"I'm fine."

"No," Javir said, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "You're focused. That's good. But focus without control? That can get you into trouble."

Armia let out a quiet sigh, her fingers relaxing against her lap.

"I'm just... ready."

"I know." Javir shifted closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "But don't let 'ready' turn into reckless. Anger can sharpen your instincts, but if you let it take over, it dulls everything else. I've seen it before. Don't let it happen to you."

Armia glanced back toward the stage. Isabella was holding up a new wand, this one with a shimmering blue gem embedded in the grip. It didn't actually do anything, but the audience didn't know that.

The crowd murmured in approval, their interest palpable even from where Armia sat.

"I'm not angry," Armia murmured, though she wasn't sure if she believed it herself. "Not... really."

Javir tilted her head, studying her for a moment.

"Maybe not. But you're something close to it. Use it—don't let it use you."

Armia nodded slowly, the words settling over her.

[Stay steady. Stay sharp. When the time comes, you'll know.]

Isabella's voice rose again, drawing their attention back to the stage. Her pink tail swished behind her as she gestured grandly toward the wands on display.

"She really knows how to work a crowd," Javir remarked, her lips quirking into a faint smile.

"She does," Armia agreed, though her gaze drifted back toward the edges of the square. The fire in her chest was still there, but now it burned steadily, controlled.

The Shadow Mages were here. She was sure of it. And when the time came, she would be ready. Not reckless. Not angry. Just... ready.