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

{Melisa}

Professor Hendrick's voice droned on about theoretical Essence applications in defensive ward construction. Melisa tried to take notes, mainly because her ward game was weak. She hadn't focused on that aspect of magic too much throughout the years. She really tried to focus, but Isabella had other plans.

"Your neck looks lonely," Isabella whispered, shifting on Melisa's lap. "I can fix that."

"My neck is fine."

"Disagree." Warm lips pressed against her pulse point.

[God give me strength.]

Melisa's quill scratched across parchment: The crystalline matrix structure of—

Isabella's tongue flicked out.

The quill jerked, leaving a long ink trail across half the page.

"Isabella!"

"Hmm?" She replied, all innocence, batting her eyes.

"I'm trying to learn."

"So am I. Currently, I'm studying the correlation between neck kisses and nim arousal responses. Promising results, I must say."

From two rows front, someone snorted. Probably Jenkins, the ass who always sat too close and smelled vaguely of cheese.

It had been two weeks now since the kidnapping. Two weeks since she'd left Sirah bleeding in the forest.

And Melisa was... She was... mostly fine.

She was on track to become the most powerful mage in history, had three very passionate lovers, and her parents actually talked to her now instead of tiptoeing around like she might explode.

[Still need to figure out that 'greatest fighter' thing though. My swordsmanship has been lacking.]

But two out of three goals wasn't bad. Alice would've been amazed to see where Melisa ended up.

"Miss Blackflame."

Professor Hendrick's voice cut through her thoughts. He stood directly in front of her desk, arms crossed, eyebrows doing that thing where they tried to climb into his hairline.

"Perhaps you could share your thoughts on ward anchoring?"

The entire class turned to stare. Isabella's hand froze on Melisa's thigh.

"Ward anchoring requires a stable Essence foundation, typically achieved through layered spellwork rather than single-cast methods," Melisa rattled off without missing a beat. "The matrix structure prevents degradation over time by distributing magical load across multiple anchor points."

Professor Hendrick blinked.

"That's... correct. And comprehensive."

"... I can multitask."

Isabella chose that exact moment to bite her ear.

"BELLA!"

Half the class jumped. Someone dropped their quill. Jenkins made that stupid snorting sound again.

"Miss Summer, please remove yourself from Miss Blackflame's lap."

"But Professor, I'm helping with her concentration—"

"Now."

Isabella pouted but slid off, taking the desk beside Melisa instead. Her tail immediately wrapped around Melisa's ankle.

Melisa rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile.

The rest of class passed without major incident, though Isabella's tail kept doing things that made concentration difficult. By the time Hendrick dismissed them, Melisa's notes looked like they'd been written during an earthquake.

"I still can't believe you answered correctly while she was literally biting you," Armia said as they left the classroom.

"Practice." Melisa stretched, joints popping. "You learn to compartmentalize when you live with Isabella."

"Hey! I'm not that bad!"

Three people in the hallway turned to stare at her raised voice.

"Okay, maybe a little bad."

Raven fell into step beside them, like she materialized out of thin air. The usual.

"The professor looked disappointed you knew the answer."

"Hendrick always looks disappointed. It's his resting face."

They made their way through the academy grounds, dodging other students and the occasional magical mishap. A first-year had somehow set his own robes on fire with water magic. Probably tried some "super innovative" combination that went horribly.

"Plans for the afternoon?" Armia asked.

"Home. Books. Studying." Melisa sighed. "I'm behind on my Essence theory paper."

"Boring," Isabella declared. "We should go to that new tea shop. The one with the cute server."

"Everything can't be about cute servers."

"Why not? Life's too short not to appreciate attractive people serving beverages."

"Because some of us have academic responsibilities."

"Academic responsibilities are temporary. Cute servers are eternal."

"That makes no sense."

"Nothing about Isabella makes sense," Armia pointed out. "We've established this."

They bickered on comfortably as they walked, the familiar rhythm of it soothing something in Melisa's chest. This was what she'd wanted when she'd made those wishes. Friends who cared about her. Lovers who made her laugh. A life that meant something.

"—and that's why I think we should definitely check if the server has a tail," Isabella was saying.

"We are not going to harass service workers," Armia said firmly.

"It's not harassment if I'm genuinely interested in their tail situation!"

"That's literally what a tail harasser would say."

"I am not a tail harasser!"

"You harassed my tail just last week."

"That was different. We're dating~"

Melisa let their voices wash over her as they walked. Normal. Safe. Perfect.

The sun hung low as they reached her house, painting everything in warm gold. Home. Where her parents would fuss over her and ask about her day. Where Hazel would demand stories about academy life. Where she could just be Melisa instead of 'the nim who knows magic' or 'the girl who got kidnapped.'

She pushed open the door.

"Mom, we're—"

The words died in her throat.

There, on her couch, sat Sirah.

[What.]

The darian warrior lounged between Margaret and Melistair like she belonged there. Cup of tea in her remaining hand. Laughing at something Melistair had said.

[What the actual fuck.]

Melisa blinked. Once. Twice.

Still there.

Margaret looked up, beaming with that smile she used when she was particularly pleased about something.

"Oh sweetie! Your friend from the trip is here!"

Friend.

From the trip.

Sirah turned. Their eyes met across the room. That familiar cocky grin spread across her face, the one that had made Melisa's stomach do flips for all the wrong reasons.

"Hey, Red Eyes, Purple Mage. Miss me?"

The world crystallized into perfect clarity. Behind her, she felt more than saw Raven move faster than thought. One second the assassin was standing by the door, the next she had a knife pressed against Sirah's throat.

"Move and die."

Margaret gasped. Melistair jumped to his feet, spilling his tea.

Sirah raised her hand, her only hand, slowly. The grin never wavered.

"Okay, okay. Let me explain."