Nainai’s furrowed brow smoothed out. She hadn’t learned a single lesson from yesterday’s or today’s events.
But one thing was certain: she absolutely did not want to get tangled up with this gloomy man again.
Nainai knew the full power of her Succubus charm...
With others, she could shatter their memories to protect herself.
But Fusiming? She had no tricks left against him.
The deeper the entanglement, the more her quiet life would unravel in ways she dreaded.
Nainai hated disruptions to her stable, predictable routine.
She had to stay far away from this man...
...
"...None of your business," she retorted coldly, lips pursed.
"Frankly, I’ll thank my lucky stars if you just leave me alone."
With that, she yanked off the shirt Fusiming had draped over her.
As her small hands fumbled with the fabric, she accidentally jostled a pocket on her already-split skirt.
The hem tore further. The pocket tipped.
*Clunk—Crash—Snap!*
A chunky black slab—about the size of her palm—tumbled from her chest and slammed onto the roadside curb.
Then shattered into two pieces.
One half: a glass panel webbed with cracks.
The other: a pink phone case plastered with a waifu sticker of a cute anime girl.
Undeniably, the phone Nainai had pestered Xu Yingsnow into "lending" her.
And she still owed two-thirds of the payment...
She’d trusted its waterproof design to survive the rain.
But she never expected this—right before reaching home...
Her expensive phone was ruined. Her heart shattered with it.
"My phone... my money..."
Crouched on the ground, Nainai stared blankly at the lifeless glass slab.
Her tiny hands trembled as she picked up the broken halves, desperately trying to piece them together.
Futile.
Waterproof casing meant nothing if the motherboard drowned.
"This is all your fault! You bastard!"
Tears welling in her eyes, Nainai glared up at Fusiming.
(Though it was entirely her own carelessness.
Little Succubi were just that unreasonable...)
Fusiming: "..."
—*Wait, this is my fault too?*
His silver eyes widened beneath his bangs. He felt utterly wronged.
The pink-haired girl had dropped it herself... How was this his burden?
But seeing Nainai’s tear-streaked, fragile face, his rare burst of emotional intelligence kicked in.
Her mood was volatile. Best not to poke the bear.
So Fusiming wisely stayed silent.
Nainai scowled, unable to escalate without an opening.
"Remember this! You big idiot!"
Finally admitting her own fault, she hurled Fusiming’s shirt at him like a crumpled missile.
The balled-up fabric unfurled mid-air and *whap!* slapped over his face like a net.
"Tonight’s our last meeting. Never again!"
She spun around without hesitation, clutching her torn skirt hem, and stomped into the narrow, dim stairwell.
Her footsteps pounded the concrete—*thud-thud-thud*—
as if she were crushing Fusiming’s face beneath her soles.
Silently, Fusiming peeled the shirt off his face and folded it neatly.
It had briefly shielded Nainai’s lovely curves.
In those fleeting minutes, the black shirt had absorbed her scent—
a faint, peach-sweet fragrance clinging to the fabric,
intoxicating... dangerously alluring...
He stared down at the ordinary shirt he often wore.
Stained with urine, blood, mud, and rain. Missing a sleeve. Utterly ruined.
Yet Fusiming couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.
After all...
"Nainai."
He called out to the Little Succubus.
She didn’t turn. Didn’t even pause.
Her steps on the stairs quickened.
Her apartment was just on the second floor—twelve steps, then a corridor by the street.
"If you’re hungry... you can find me."
"Tomorrow. I’ll be at the junkyard."
***SLAM!***
The only reply was a deafening door slam.
The Little Succubus had sealed herself off...
As if declaring they belonged to separate worlds.
Two parallel lines that should never have crossed.
A brief collision caused by accident.
Now, it was time to return to their rightful paths.
Nainai’s cold dismissal left Fusiming with an unexpected ache—
like a stray puppy abandoned by its owner,
whimpering for warmth and comfort.
But her rejection was clear. He wouldn’t overstay.
One last glance at the light glowing in her window.
Then Fusiming tucked the shirt under his arm and walked away, shoulders slumped.
...
"*Finally*, that stalker’s gone."
Nainai pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling in relief.
After slamming the door, she’d flattened herself against the iron gate, peering through the blurry peephole.
She was terrified!
Alone with a man who knew where she lived.
An Extraordinary Being who could break in anytime.
Predators like Ah Wei came to mind.
Her phone was dead—no way to call the police instantly.
From their past encounters, she doubted Fusiming would harm her.
*At least... not right now.*
If he’d wanted to, he’d had endless chances.
But trust no one. What if he snapped and tried to turn her into some mindless sex toy?
She was a Succubus, but she wouldn’t hand her first time to a random stranger!
Honestly, he’d stood outside her building for *minutes* after she’d gone in...
Her heart had hammered in her throat.
She’d even typed a frantic SOS message to Xu Yingsnow on QQ.
One wrong move from Fusiming, and she’d hit send.
Nainai might be lazy and trashy, but she wasn’t a jokester.
Crying wolf ruined trust when real danger struck.
Her credibility with Xu Yingsnow was solid.
The Little Succubus knew Snow would never dismiss this as a prank.
...
Thankfully, Fusiming had left.
Nainai mashed the delete key on her cheap wireless keyboard—yanked from a pile of trash bags—and kicked aside clutter to clear a path to the bathroom.
She tossed the keyboard onto her bed, then stripped naked at lightning speed before the bathroom door.
Hugging her filthy clothes, she stepped inside.
Nainai’s home was tiny. The "bathroom" was even shabbier.
Barely a few square meters. Cramped with a sink, a lidded plastic bin for laundry, and a squat toilet.
A single-pane window beside the sink was covered in black waterproof film—anti-peeping measure.
The showerhead hung directly above the squat toilet.
The water heater clung to the ceiling.
No bathroom heater.
Winter showers were pure torture.
She barely bathed once a month in summer. Winter? Forget it.
Standing naked before the plastic bin, Nainai lifted the lid slightly.
A musty stench burst forth.
"*Ah—CHOO!* ❤~~~~~"
The moldy reek triggered a violent sneeze.
Her piled-up laundry had clearly fermented.
"*Ugh...*"
Rubbing her nose, Nainai cringed, trying to recall her last laundry day.
A week ago? Two?
No clue...
She’d partitioned the bin with waterproof cardboard dividers: "Underwear," "Socks," "Regular Clothes."
The "Underwear" section held over a dozen crumpled panties fused into a single lump—
proof it had been *ages* since she’d washed anything.
She glanced at the damp, dirty panties in her hand—her last wearable pair.
Now she had nothing left to wear.
Time to do laundry?
She dumped the soiled clothes into the overflowing bin and groaned.
Lazy procrastinator mode activated.
Too few chores? She’d ignore them. Too many? Too much hassle.
This trashy delay-tactic was a habit needing brutal correction.
Thirty-something items waiting. So exhausting!
—*Or... I’ll pester Snow to do it when she visits?*
Snow had OCD-level cleanliness standards. She’d *have* to fix this disaster!
A shameless idea flashed in Nainai’s mind.
Most people wouldn’t dare.
But Nainai embraced the thought—Xu Yingsnow would absolutely lose her mind over it.
Another problem "solved."
Cheerfully, she turned on the showerhead, humming as she scrubbed away the day’s grime from her petite body.
Just another day... over.
