Just a glimpse of her alluring features—her exquisitely sculpted thigh—was enough to leave Xia Mo, a woman of the same gender, utterly captivated.

This terrifying allure… Could this girl truly be a noble Succubus Curse?

With a sharp knife pressed to her throat, one careless move could end her life. Zila dared not shift even slightly. Though her absurdly sensitive tail was gripped tight, she forced herself to suppress every twitch.

"Waaah~ Xia Mo, my dear disciple! It’s me—your master! I’m not lying! Please let go of my tail… Waaah, I’m begging you!"

"Ridiculous! My master is a tall, handsome male knight—not a filthy, sin-tempting Succubus Curse like you! You little runt!"

Across all races, the Succubus Curse shared a single reputation: born with breathtaking beauty and innate seduction, radiating irresistible allure. This very "gift" stirred greed in evil beings and awakened wicked desires in the weak-willed. Coupled with their lewd, vulgar nature and lifestyle, nearly everyone branded the Succubus Curse with labels like "filthy" or "lustful creature."

As a human who fought and despised demons, how could Xia Mo trust a demon’s words? She needed proof. If she’d been charmed earlier, maybe—but thankfully, she wasn’t some weak-willed woman!

Xia Mo shot her a look of utter contempt. "Tired of talking? Or shall this knife answer for you?"

She tightened the threat slightly—and froze. The Succubus Curse girl’s skin was impossibly delicate. Just a whisper of pressure left a faint red mark on Zila’s throat.

Xia Mo couldn’t kill her yet. This demon had broken into her master’s home… and held his key. She might carry clues about Xue Yu. Even the tiniest hint was worth keeping alive.

To a battlefield veteran like Xue Yu, a scratch meant nothing. But now? That tiny mark sent sharp, terrifying tingles through Zila’s hypersensitive skin.

Finally, under threat of death, the girl spoke.

Xia Mo should’ve felt triumphant—but this "confession" felt… off.

"Waaah! Xia Mo wet her pants!" Zila blurted loudly.

"Huh?" Xia Mo blinked, confusion flashing across her face. Instinctively, she touched her pants—cold, dry, utterly normal.

"You’re lying! I did *not* wet… my… pants?" Her voice faltered. Confusion twisted into shock.

Zila saw it. The dagger pulled back a few centimeters. *It worked.*

Seizing the moment, she shrieked at the top of her lungs: "Xia Mo wet her pants! She peed herself escaping the Blood Clan—!"

*Clatter~*

The dagger hit the floor. Eyes wide, Xia Mo lunged forward and clamped a hand over Zila’s mouth.

"Mmph!"

"Hey! Don’t you dare— Wait. *How* do you know?!" Xia Mo’s voice cracked. "Could it be… you really are…?"

Zila nodded fiercely, swatted the hand away, and yelled: "Yes! You wet your pants fleeing the Blood Clan—and got my hands dirty!"

"Ah! It’s really you… Master, please stop! I’m begging you!" Xia Mo clasped her hands, dropped to her knees.

Zila’s words left her mind utterly blown. Roles reversed in an instant.

Overwhelmed by pain and relief, Zila burst into childish sobs.

—————

Years ago, the Blood Clan invaded the Gaelkani Kingdom. They abducted humans as blood slaves—including Xia Mo, not yet a full knight.

During the escape, a human legion intercepted them. Xue Yu was among them. Rain poured. With numerical advantage and Bloodhunters’ support, they repelled the Blood Clan. Xue Yu carried the injured girl home.

At first, the rain masked it. Then—a warm, damp seep through her gloves. The sleeping girl in her arms had… wet her pants.

Xia Mo was seventeen, eighteen—far too old for accidents. To spare her shame, Xue Yu stayed silent. Later, curiosity led to the truth: due to a physical condition, Xia Mo wore diapers while sleeping. A secret known only to master and disciple.

"Master, I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was really you…"

"Waaah! Bad disciple! You stabbed me with your knife!" Zila wailed, limbs flailing.

"You… really *are* my master?" Xia Mo scratched her temple, doubt softening into wonder.

…

"There, Master. All bandaged! Does it still hurt?"

On the sofa, knight Xia Mo tended to the wound on her master Zila’s neck.

Zila had shed the tattered disguise robe. Xia Mo noted the torn hem of her long dress—ripped during flight.