The Incubus System

The Incubus System Chapter 670. The Demon Hunter Chairwoman III

"It was just a simple job. Something similar to a senior sitter,” I suddenly explained. “My acquaintance was sick and they refused to be hospitalized. So I went there to help them." My voice was smooth and confident despite the lies that flowed from my lips.

Mrs. Clea's face contorted into a frown. Her confusion was evident, etched into the lines of her face as she struggled to remember what had just transpired. It was clear to me that the skill had cut her memory and left her blank without any recollection of what she had just experienced.

Since Mrs. Clea's confusion persisted, I knew that I needed to act fast to cover my tracks. I decided to add an explanation to my earlier statement, pretending that her confusion was a result of my story.

"Well, I indeed don't have much medical knowledge or anything," I began, my words flowing smoothly. "But they just need someone to help them with their housework and someone to talk to. Since they don't want strangers to live in their house and prefer a family, they chose me."

My explanation couldn't satisfy Mrs. Clea. There was still an undercurrent of suspicion. She answered me with a silent nod, her eyes darting toward Alan, who was still playing happily with my pets. I could sense that she was still trying to make sense of what had just happened, her mind working to fill in the gaps left by my skill.

I turned my attention to Alan and my pets, putting on a show of confusion. Turning back to Mrs. Clea, I put on a fake smile and asked, "Is there something wrong? Is my story boring?"

She lowered her head slightly. But when she looked back up at me, she gave me her innocent smile. "Nothing, I just have a lot on my mind," she said softly, trying to put my concerns to rest.

Despite her reassurance, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. "Do you want to leave?” I offered. I had gotten what I needed from her, but I didn't want her to stay here too long either. Who knew what she might notice if she lingered too long?

Sensing my hesitation, Mrs. Clea was about to speak when a ringtone interrupted her. It was her phone, and she quickly fished it out of her pocket, excusing herself as she opened the message.

She read the message, her face betraying nothing as she kept her poker face firmly in place. I couldn't tell whose message it was, but the tension was palpable. She was silent momentarily before putting down her phone and speaking again. "I have to go back. But before that...I want to give you something. It's from your late father," she said, her voice softening as she searched her pockets.

"My dad?" I repeated, my mind racing with questions. I had never read about that from her mind, only about her association. So I was surprised by her sudden revelation.

“Yes…” she muttered as she searched for something from her pockets. But she didn't find it.

She stood up and began to search the sofa for the mysterious item, and I quickly joined in, eager to uncover the surprise. As we rummaged around, I couldn't help but wonder what it could possibly be. Was it a letter? A keepsake?

"What are you looking for?" I asked, trying to get more information from Mrs. Clea.

“I can't say it. It's a surprise for you. Your father handed it over to me so someday I can give it to you. And I think this is the right time," she replied, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of the missing item.

A minute later, she released a long exhale. Her voice was low, almost a whisper.

"I think I left it at my house," she said, her eyes flashing with a strange intensity. "Mind getting it with me?"

I felt an unease deep in my gut, a sensation that was quickly overridden by curiosity. Despite my reservations, I found myself nodding eagerly. It would be very strange if I refused, and I wanted to see what this was all about.

"Sure," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I'd be happy to help." And more than anything, I wanted to know what her plan was.

She smiled, satisfied with my answer. "Okay," she said, turning to face Alan.  "Alan, do you still want to stay here or come with mommy to pick up something at home?" she asked in a louder voice since Alan's laughter echoed through the room. Not to mention my pets were also as noisy as him.

Alan, who had been laughing happily just moments before, turned to her. The joy in his expression faltered slightly. His face was solemn and serious. He looked up at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

"I still want to play with them," he said, his eyes pleading with her. "Can I stay a little longer?" he begged.

Mrs. Clea hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought. But then she nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Okay," she said, at last, her voice soft but firm. "Stay here for a bit, okay? I'll be right back."

She turned to face me once more, her gaze steady. 

"Let's go, Ethan," she said, her tone almost a command. Without waiting for a response, she strode towards the door.

I quickly turned to my pets. “Behave, okay?” I reminded them and followed her to the front door. 

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