Guide to Raising a Succubus

Final Examination

As the commotion unfolded, the instigator — a striking young man named James — gracefully clasped her hand in front of everyone, as though oblivious to their presence.

Word of James becoming an intermediate mage had already spread before today’s exam. Thus, every participant entered the hall bearing a pale complexion; all but one, that is. Brian, a young man known only as a Level II novice mage, exuded an unusual confidence. His cheeks glowed with a vibrant flush, as though painted with a mad fervor.

Emily, aware of the details, knew why this was. She had noticed his gaze unwaveringly rested upon Lisa. She felt a twinge of disappointment with this youth, who appeared indifferent to the examination and was seemingly lost in the professor's allure.

The professor, meanwhile, paid him no heed. Lisa, typically carefree, called out each candidate's name, vigilantly ensuring they completed the examination and meticulously recording their scores.

Emily rarely witnessed this side of Lisa, suspecting today’s unusual diligence was owing much to James.

And now, James, the newly minted intermediate mage, stepped forward as Lisa announced his name. All eyes in the room followed him, including Brian's, who paused his Lisa-centric daydream to take note. As for Lisa, her gaze lingered on James, a glimmer of unconcealed anticipation in her eyes.

James, acutely aware of the professor's interest, maintained a composed demeanor, consciously avoiding eye contact with her, focusing solely on the apparatus before him.

While the examination captivated everyone’s attention, Emily’s mind drifted, sensing an intricate undercurrent between James, Brian, and Lisa. An intricate web spun itself in her imagination—a clichéd love triangle: the aloof, imposing youth, the delicate, love-struck beautiful boy, and Lisa caught in their tug-of-war.

Distracted by her musings, she almost missed the moment when James completed his examination, recording an impressive score of 157. The "ice-cold protagonist" seemed scarcely perturbed by his own success, merely nodding before stepping down from the dais.

Remembering her own score of 200, a flicker of apprehension washed over Emily. The emergence of this prodigious talent was unsettling. Projecting her imagined narrative, she glanced towards Brian, expecting to see signs of discomposure following James’s display of skill.

To her surprise—or perhaps not—he was unshaken. His focus on Lisa intensified, a testament to some granite resolution formed in his heart.

Emily was puzzled, shaking her head as she watched the examination plod along.

In the wake of James’s performance, the subsequent candidates wilted under pressure, faltering one by one. While more than a few managed to exceed scores of 110 initially, later competitiors struggled to breach even 90. James remained stoically unaffected by this turmoil, his demeanor unwaveringly neutral, unaffected by the collective exhilaration of those around him who, if they could, would have handed him the victor’s trophy then and there.

The hour waned with little fanfare until the last contender finally took to the stage, jostling Emily from her torpor. Oh, it was Brian, one of the love triangle’s players!

Lisa announced his name, involuntarily lifting her gaze towards the crowd to spot him.

That acknowledgment would come to haunt her; for once their gazes met, she regretted it entirely. Brian’s eyes bore into her with fervent intensity, as though longing to convey years of unstated reverence.

Indeed, his every glance screamed an adoration unvoiced: “Professor Lisa, forever shall I honor you.”

Should Lisa comprehend the unspoken homage, she would simply credit it with a gracious nod: “Thank you, but such exaltation is undue.”

Luckily, vision harbored no auditory faculty. All Lisa registered was his soulful stare and impeccable visage. No matter how acutely she perceived his true prowess, her admiration for his allure never wavered.

For this youth bore half a burden of guilt within her. Without James, without the crusade for justice, he would have championed her design as today’s victor.

Once, she had daydreamed futures where they were bound as lovers, where his companionship promised abundant riches that now were lost.

Regret briefly graced her thought, only for her to refocus and start the examination promptly.

Brian acknowledged her with a nod and turned towards the apparatus.

No one harbored expectations for Brian’s endeavor. As he took his place, preparations unfolded for post-exam celebrations or for congratulating James.

In this ambience, a sharp, startling crack pierced the air, arresting everyone’s attention, forcing heads to swivel towards the room’s sole source of such a sound.

And there it lay—the examination instrument, its scale marked from 0 to 1000, shattered beyond replication.

Shock pinned the observers in place, though none more so than Lisa, who stood closest without time enough to erect a defensive charm. The event left her unguarded, her hand pierced by glass shards—though awe eclipsed her pain notably.

Her gaze met Emily’s, her assistant’s eyes wide with simultaneous inquiry and disbelief.

“Did you do this? Can I even believe it’s you? In any case, you’re quite something,” her eyes seemed to relay.

On the verge of tears, Lisa turned instead to the one at fault, with an overwhelming need to comprehend the truth.

Yet there stood Brian, the beautiful offender, unapologetically navigating the assemblage as he cradled her hand.

“Lisa?”

“Brian?”

“You’re hurt…”

His voice whispered tenderly, fingers brushing delicately over her hand, meticulously extracting a shard.

Every inquiry swallowing her heart, every shadow of ire concealed beneath his gentle ministrations. Words eluded her, and in her peripheral vision, James’s departing form caught her notice.

Her instinct urged pursuit, but her hand remained in Brian’s, lightly held yet not restrained, just offering as his eyes, following hers, glanced outward, then obediently bowed to cauterize her wound with hands trembling.

Moments slid past, his grip gradually loosening, no inquiry about competition results nor inquiry about status shifted between them.

Only this, “Teacher, it’s done.”

And there was silence.