"You need to feed."

Fusiming stated this fact calmly, watching Nainai clutch her chest. Her face still held traces of terror, breath coming in ragged gasps.

Fear of thunder was instinctive—a primal reflex of fragile humans confronting nature’s might. Perfectly normal. Yet such fear usually faded with age and experience. Nainai, after all, was forty-eight. Her terror had come swiftly… and vanished just as fast.

Besides, the shame of showing weakness *twice* stung far worse than the first time.

"You—"

Biting her lower lip, Nainai snapped back to reality. Humiliation flared in her eyes as she glared at Fusiming.

"I’m not hungry! I’m perfectly fine!" Her small, pale fists clenched, trembling as if ready to smash into his face.

"How could I possibly be hungry—" She planted her hands on her hips, forcing an arrogant, disdainful pose. "Do I *look* hungry to you? I can last a whole week!"

Her words were steel-hard. But deep down, both she and Fusiming knew she was bluffing. That "week" was empty boasting. Without food, she wouldn’t survive the night.

How could anyone tell?

Thankfully, raindrops still speckled her legs, hiding the sticky wetness dripping steadily down her thighs. But the glowing sigil on her belly—flashing like a neon sign in a KTV bar—wasn’t obvious enough?

The downpour had bought her time, temporarily suppressing the hunger clawing at her limits…

But physically and mentally, she was already teetering on the edge of collapse.

If this continued, something terrible would happen.

The thin ice encasing the molten iron ball inside her had vaporized to the fragility of printer paper.

The slightest nudge would shatter it to dust.

Her lower belly throbbed with scorching pain. Her legs felt weak, trembling.

A terrifying craving from the depths of her soul gnawed at her sanity.

*So hungry… so hungry…*

Boundless allure swirled in her downcast eyes. The rosy shadows at the corners of her vision deepened, thickening like spilled wine.

Her mouth had flooded with saliva earlier—now it was a desert.

Her soft pink tongue slipped out, tracing cracked lips.

*Boom—*

"Hungry…"

A sudden thunderclap made her shudder weakly, drowning out her shame-filled, honeyed whimper.

Breathing fast, Nainai could already imagine what she’d become in ten minutes if she didn’t eat.

A scene so explicit it’d get this book banned in an instant.

So her only choice…

Reluctantly, her gaze settled on the young man named Fusiming.

Her eyes swept over his tall, lean frame; his handsome but stern features shadowed by damp black bangs; the sliver of silver light gleaming beneath his fringe.

Finally, she focused on his chest—through her sensory sight…

*Even rabbits don’t eat the grass near their burrows. Must I really feed on his desire again today?*

Disgust twisted her delicate face. She covered her mouth, stumbling back half a step.

She’d made such stubborn promises earlier. Backtracking now?

*How utterly embarrassing!*

Besides…

Through her sensory vision, she glared at the flickering pink flame inside him—barely the size of a candle.

*He’s pathetic! His desire isn’t even enough for a snack!*

If she relied on Fusiming’s meager offering today, it meant…

*Tomorrow! Same time! Same place! Starving joy! See you then!*

Nainai shuddered. She dreaded that dizzying limbo from daytime—trapped between hunger and fullness, unable to even play games.

What terrified a little succubus most?

Abstinence.

Her body burned with need, driving her mad, yet she couldn’t soothe it.

She knew the hunger’s physical punishment would be brutal.

Best not to touch it at all—or she’d surrender to starvation faster.

A succubus used to feeding three times a day? This humiliation was unbearable.

Forcing abstinence on a succubus was like silencing a glutton, disarming a warrior, or making a miser give away gold.

It was agony. She felt like an addict starved of her fix.

Craving the endless bliss of desire… yet granting herself nothing.

Half-full? That was torture.

She *had* to be full.

A silvery thread dripped from Nainai’s lip. Her delicate face wore a dazed, flushed expression.

Though she scorned Fusiming’s desire in her heart, her eyes remained locked on that tiny, swaying pink flame.

*Left… right…*

Tiny, yet glowing like a miniature sun ❤…

Her gaze followed its sway, her pink tail flicking in sync behind her.

She knew hunger’s emptiness was maddening…

But worse was the crushing void of starvation itself.

And a sliver of hope…

"I know… what you’re thinking… hmph ❤…"

Panting hot, sweet breaths, Nainai gritted her teeth, her voice weak with longing.

"I absolutely, *positively* won’t eat your desire ❤…"

Her words meant nothing.

Her body spoke louder.

That stubborn glare. That pained, clenched-jaw expression. Pride warring with desperation.

Honestly, Fusiming thought Nainai’s attitude resembled Shening, that rookie back at the Subhuman Administration—always saving face, then eating their own words.

Polite people would’ve smiled and played along.

But honest Fusiming stabbed straight at her raw nerve:

"If you’re worried about losing face…"

"Don’t. I won’t mind."

*YOU don’t mind? I DO!*

Nainai rolled her eyes, nearly choking on fury.

She *hated* his "charity" act. She wasn’t some beggar!

(Sure, she shamelessly milked federal welfare—but legally! Her benefits were *earned*, not begged!)

Yet Fusiming…

He knelt on one knee, right hand outstretched. His posture screamed: *Be my son.*

That *condescension*! Nainai seethed.

Even if he was her only option… she couldn’t… surrender…

Tears glistened in her rosy-rimmed eyes. Her face twisted with reluctance and raw hunger.

"You bastard! Pervert! You just want me to seduce you, don’t you?!"

"You useless second! Pathetic man! Can’t you just jerk off alone if you want relief? I’ll *never* eat your desire again!"

Her accusations dripped with vile suspicion. Her amethyst eyes dilated, fixed on that fragile pink flame—about to gutter out in the storm. She fought a losing battle.

Her words cut deep.

"Pathetic man," "useless second"—the insults stung. But worse was the malice, the distance in her voice.

Fusiming’s lips tightened. His silver eyes dimmed.

He felt wounded.

Like helping a fallen elder on the street… only to be falsely accused by that same ungrateful soul.

*Infuriating.*

Even quiet Fusiming felt anger rise. Yet he knew—

In a way, *he* was why Nainai suffered now.

If he hadn’t intervened last night… she might’ve been full and satisfied.

No hunger. No storm. No being trapped in this filthy, cramped space with a man she despised…

And truthfully? He *craved* her touch. Craved the dizzying dance of Corruption Essence.

His choice tonight—so different from last night’s—proved it. He hadn’t contacted the Subhuman Administration…

*Because of those filthy desires.*

Using her body as an excuse to feed his own darkness.

No matter how noble the surface reason, the truth was nauseating.

…

Realizing his own hypocrisy, Fusiming felt profound disappointment in himself. His gaze dropped, weary.

A wave of self-reproach surged, swallowing the flickering pink flame within him.

*Poof…*

Blinding white light erupted outside the window, flooding Nainai’s vision.

The lightning flash forced her eyes shut.

Pure white overwhelmed even the darkness behind her lids.

Only when the glare faded did she slowly open her eyes.

Sight returned. Her first instinct: look at Fusiming. At the fragile flame sustaining her life.

But…

The pink flame that had gripped her heart had vanished with the lightning.

Fusiming held no desire left.

*Crack-crack-CRASH!*

Thunder boomed. Nainai’s heart shattered like glass under a hammer.

Watching her last food disappear again—she nearly broke.

It was like tossing a dollar bill into a juicer right in front of Mr. Krabs.

"This… no…"

Her pink lips parted. Gurgling sounds rose in her throat.

Her earlier stubbornness now twisted into agony.

Losing something *within reach* hurt far more than never having it at all. That pain could drown any dam of willpower.

"Food… whimper… Desire… Hungry… sniffle… sob… sob…"

History repeated itself.