Chapter 194. Food After Combat
Succubi Chapter 194. Food After Combat
It was past 10 PM when I arrived at the dorm.
The hallway was quiet in that weird academy way. The lamps glowed softly along the corridor, painting everything in warm gold, and my boots dragged just a little against the floor because apparently fighting horny ghosts, getting emotionally attacked by villagers, being identified by a banshee, and then getting “medically treated” by Sera had taken a toll on my body, soul and dignity.
[Academy Notification Received]
[Mission Rank D: Completed]
[Payment Processing: 1 x 24 Hours]
I stared at the floating notification as I walked.
“One day processing?” I muttered. “What is this, banking?”
The system did not answer.
Still, payment was payment. I wasn’t going to complain too much. Well, I was absolutely going to complain internally, because that was my sacred right as a student who had just worked overtime in a cursed forest full of moaning spectral women, but I’d take the money. Money meant food. Food meant survival. Survival meant I could continue pretending I wasn’t one bad decision away from becoming a full academy urban legend.
By the time I reached the dorm entrance, my shoulders had loosened a little. The night air still clung to my cloak. I pushed the door open quietly, stepped inside, and bent down to remove my shoes.
That was when I felt it.
A presence.
Not demonic enough to be a threat. Not human enough to be normal. Small. Heavy. Judgmental.
I slowly looked up.
Lilith’s minion stood in the hallway.
Toddler-sized. Round little body. Big grumpy eyes. Arms crossed like a wife who had waited three hours for her husband to come home and already reheated dinner twice.
It stared at me.
I stared back.
“What?” I said. “I didn’t do a thing.”
It grumbled.
Not words. Just grumbling. Deep, offended, tiny creature noises.
I pointed at myself. “I literally came back alive. That should be considered a success.”
It marched forward, grabbed the edge of my cloak with both tiny hands, and tugged.
I blinked. “What now?”
Another tug.
“You want me to follow you?”
It grumbled again, louder this time, like I was the idiot for not understanding obvious minion language.
Honestly, fair.
“Okay, okay,” I muttered, raising both hands. “Lead the way, tiny landlord.”
The minion turned and waddled down the hall with absolute authority. I followed, because apparently this was my life now. Demon prince? Student? Mission survivor? No. I was being escorted by a grumpy bread-sized creature that looked like it wanted to file a complaint against my existence.
It took me to the kitchen.
The moment I stepped inside, the smell hit me.
Bread. Meat. Butter. Something lightly toasted. Something cold and sweet too, sharp in the air.
My eyes moved to the counter.
And there it was.
A plate.
A sandwich.
Not just any sandwich. No. This sandwich had structure. Layers. Intent. The bread was golden at the edges, soft in the middle, with sliced meat tucked between lettuce, cheese, and some kind of sauce that glistened under the kitchen light like treasure. Beside it sat a bottle of cold soda, condensation sliding down the glass like it was posing for me.
I froze.
My eyes gleamed.
Food after work?
No.
Food after combat.
That was different. That was sacred. That was religion.
“Beautiful,” I whispered.
The minion grumbled beside me.
I ignored him completely and stepped closer like I was approaching an altar. There was a note beside the plate. Folded neatly. Written in Lilith’s handwriting. Elegant. Soft. Too pretty for something placed beside a sandwich, but somehow that made it worse. Better. Dangerous.
I picked it up and read.
For Evan.
You might be tired after your mission. Eat this before sleeping. Don’t skip your meal <3
I stared at the note.
Then at the sandwich.
Then back at the note.
Something warm pressed against my chest. Annoyingly warm. Unfairly warm. The kind of warmth that made my face shift before I could stop it. My mouth tightened. My eyes burned slightly.
No.
Absolutely not.
I was not going to get emotional over a sandwich.
That would be pathetic.
I swallowed.
“Damn it.”
Because yeah. I almost teared up.
Not dramatic crying. Just that annoying sting behind the eyes when someone does something small and kind, and your brain doesn’t know where to put it because it’s used to surviving, not being cared for.
Not even my mom had done something like this before.
That thought hit harder than it should have. Quiet. Heavy. Like a stone dropped into water.
I stood there for a second longer, gripping the note.
Then I looked down at the minion.
It stared back at me, still grumpy.
I bent down, grabbed it, and hugged it.
“Thank you for showing me the way.”
It stiffened instantly.
I kissed its cheek.
The minion made a noise like I had committed a war crime.
It shoved at my chest with its tiny hands, wriggled free, landed on the floor, and wiped its cheek aggressively while grumbling like an old man cursing modern society.
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
It pointed at me with one tiny claw, made a disgusted sound, then waddled away like it had lost all respect for me.
Okay.
I didn’t care.
I sat down and picked up the sandwich.
The first bite nearly ended me.
Warm bread. Savory meat. Crisp lettuce. Sauce with just enough sweetness. The cheese melted slightly against my tongue, and I actually had to close my eyes for a second.
“Lilith,” I whispered with deep sincerity, “I love you.”
The soda cracked open with a soft hiss. Cold bubbles hit my throat, sharp and sweet, and my entire body relaxed so hard I almost melted into the chair.
This was pampering.
A quiet reminder that someone thought of me before I even came back.
Because fighting monsters? Easy.
Flirting? Dangerous, but manageable.
Being teased? I could survive. Mostly.
But being cared for?
That got under the armor.
My pride crossed its arms immediately.
No. You are a Demon Sovereign. Crown Prince. You do not melt because someone made you a sandwich.
The internal boy inside me raised both hands and said, yes, actually, we absolutely do.
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