Guide to Raising a Succubus

Margaret's Endeavors

By the time she finally turned her attention back to her exam paper, her cheeks were flushed. The excitement of having glimpsed a figure she held in high regard had momentarily overwhelmed her.

After departing the infirmary, Lucy and Margaret made their way to visit Professor Childers, who unfortunately was not in his chambers. "Professor Childers left on an extended journey. He won't be back for another two weeks," his assistant informed them.

Accepting this, they headed out, engaging in conversation about Childers along the way. "This isn't the first time he's done something like this," Lucy noted.

"You mean his frequent travels?" Margaret asked.

"Yes, five years ago, he disappeared for a whole year. Everyone at the academy, including Principal Ross, searched for him, but he was nowhere to be found until one rainy night when he returned, mud-covered. Some say he lived in Alberta, observing the habits of local creatures, while others claim he ventured into the far Eastern jungles, where creatures and humans coexist."

Margaret listened, a faint smile on her lips as she found neither story particularly credible. "Firstly, hiding out in Alberta for a year isn’t easy. The people there are incredibly perceptive," she remarked plainly, alluding to the keen senses of Alberta’s wildlife.

"Secondly, no such realm exists where creatures and humans live in harmony. The reach of the Creature Protection Society is far and wide. Alberta isn’t just in Canada; they have pathways connecting to underground cities across nations."

Lucy listened intently, her expression slightly bewildered. Despite years of tutelage under Margaret, the world seemed to have aspects she hadn't yet grasped. "Margaret, if what you say is true, where exactly did Professor Childers go five years ago?" she questioned.

Margaret shook her head, unable to answer, recalling that those years intertwined with her own labyrinthine trials. "Ah, I remember now," Lucy exclaimed. "That was during your third journey into the Time Maze, wasn’t it?"

A nod from Margaret, who quickened her pace forward. "I need a nap. Good afternoon, Lucy." Her hasty walk seemed an attempt to escape the topic of the Time Maze.

Lucy had no intention of pressing further, aware that it was a realm Margaret preferred undisturbed. The Time Maze, lauded as the simplest of the nine, had ensnared Margaret for 12 long years, consuming her attempts thrice over. Lucy often pondered whether Margaret’s eventual defeat by Alice in the Mirror Maze was linked to this.

The next day, Margaret, revitalized, summoned Lucy to read her the new task list. "Lucy, it’s time to draft the exam questions."

"You mean for the apprentice selection?"

"Exactly. I'll provide some previous topics as a guide, and should you need them, I can even procure other professors’ questions. Aside from updating the written tests, feel free to retain the others."

Lucy promptly jotted down Margaret’s requests.

"Of course, this year’s exams will be somewhat special," Margaret mentioned, which piqued Lucy’s curiosity as she noticed what Margaret held—a shadowy depiction framed by magic, unmistakably an image of James.

A faint smile tugged at Lucy’s lips. "You’re beginning to like him, aren’t you?"

"Oh, he’s beautiful, isn’t he? If in person he’s as striking as in his portrait, who could refuse him?" Margaret confessed with her usual candor.

Despite her words, Margaret's gaze upon the portrait was detached, more analytical than emotional—akin to her appraisal of a novel potion, perhaps even less impassioned.

As she viewed the painting, vivid imaginings unfurled in her mind, colored by her notorious musings—should she pursue him? She contemplated the scenario with methodical precision; from convincing him to be her companion, to the consequential resolution, whether through financial incentive or comforting words.

Had Lucy been privy to these musings, her ever-stern assistant would not hesitate to laugh heartily in jest. "Margaret, you ought to consider how you’d captivate him with your charm."

Charm? Captivate? Margaret grappled with these unfamiliar notions. In her sole past affair, she had been the one ensnared—helpless, unseasoned, without choice. In those days, Ryan had been her entire world.

But now, another hovered at her world’s periphery. For once, she would be the pursuer—a reversal of roles she’d never imagined. Could she reduce James’s world to one where she alone existed, as Ryan had done to her?

Such reflection intrigued Margaret, pondering if she was poised to reciprocate her own past with interest upon another. Not that she recognized it as 'revenge' then. But from this moment, a plan burgeoned—using an innocuous youth as a conduit for vengeance never enacted on Ryan or Alice.

The first step of her strategy: "Lucy, I reviewed his profile. He’s only a Level II Novice Mage, unlike the others who are Level III or even IV. Excelling amidst them will be a feat."

"Meaning?"

"I need you to tweak the exam process somewhat."

"I could never!" Lucy flushed, affronted.

Anticipating this reaction, Margaret conceded with a reassuring smile, "Very well, I'll handle it myself."

Ultimately, more candidates advanced to the formal selection than Margaret had anticipated.

Most assumed Lucy, as Margaret’s assistant, was behind the selections; in truth, Margaret had governed them. Lucy disapproved of the lengthy list. "Margaret, you should’ve simply eliminated those more skilled than James during the initial round to spare any false hopes."

Margaret disagreed. Had Lucy scrutinized the list, she’d realize it comprised every mage who enrolled on the day of the wolf attack. Margaret aspired to unmask the true slayer of the wild wolves from among them.

When Lucy discovered the rationale, she disapproved, "Margaret, these mages are at most Level IV. How could they have felled those wolves?"

Lucy had witnessed similar occurrences near the academy before, discerning those as no ordinary wolves but magical beasts.

Margaret acknowledged her concern yet justified, "That’s to ensure. There might be those concealing their magic prowess, or masquerading creatures in their midst."

Lucy found the notion fantastical but refrained from arguing, trusting Margaret's judgment.

Meanwhile, a new hypothesis surfaced in her mind. "Margaret, what if the one who slew the wolves and the mysterious spellcaster are the same person?"

Margaret’s expression, thoughtful, suggested she’d long considered this. "Should it be so, he’s certainly not the gentle being I envisioned."

The reports described the wolves’ deaths as brutal, not as a defense but as a slaughterous indulgence. Hence, Margaret wished not to conflate the murderer with the spellcaster, though perhaps the correlation wasn’t so elaborate. A mere examination of the wolf carcasses would clarify.

Sadly, the Creature Protection Society had confiscated the remains, their interference seemingly boundless.

Thus, Margaret settled on attending the exam personally, intent on witnessing the mages firsthand.

The preliminary selection mirrored prior processes—a written examination.

This year’s questions were deceptively straightforward. Midway through, several candidates paused, pens set aside, scanning the room.

It was then they noticed the familiar silhouette in the corner of the examination hall.

The first to spot the figure gaped in silence, while others, moved by his reaction, looked up or turned toward it.

Their shared surprise mirrored one another's, rubbing their eyes to dismiss an illusion until the figure—a commanding presence—motioned a greeting.

"Professor Margaret!" The exclamation resonated silently, yet powerfully, within them.

Truthfully, many held no warm sentiments toward Margaret, yet standing before a Grand Mage in the flesh aroused fervor. In the entirety of St. Vauric’s Dominion, fewer than twenty bore such a title.

At the very least, they deemed it a duty to ardently appeal to this potential future superior.

Margaret was acutely aware of their motives, yet she greeted each with a welcoming smile, while evaluating the magical auras surrounding them.

The novice mages’ auras were so faint that the homogeny in the exam chamber quickly confirmed none surpassed Level IV.

She felt relieved and simultaneously disappointed, having hoped for something distinctive today.

Yet, not entirely devoid—her attention settled on the young man at the room’s center.

The black-haired youth sat poised, his back straight amidst the commotion, undisturbed by it, eyes firmly on his examination paper.

Margaret was curious—what needed such intensity over a paper so simplistic, or was he simply so earnest by nature?

More so, she was intrigued if his eyes were as breathtaking as Lucy praised.

Compelled by instinct, she approached, her footsteps echoing beside him, yet he remained unchanged, eyes fixed ahead, unflinching.

Glancing briefly at his hair, eyelashes, profile, Margaret glimpsed an impact more profound than the portrait had communicated.

Upon leaving the room, the youth’s visage lingered vividly in Margaret’s mind.

Margaret had encountered beauty before; few contested Ryan's divine visage, a testament to his godlike status.

Yet, Ryan’s beauty differed. He possessed beauty, while the youth seemed the very embodiment of it.

Profoundly superficial, marvellously vacuous, harboring a love for him felt like a transgression, reinforcing faith in his emptiness beyond form.

But emptiness conformed exactly to Margaret’s expectation; she sought a charming yet ordinary male apprentice, and that desire seemed fulfilled.

With such thoughts, Margaret departed, spirits buoyant.

In the examination hall, James overheard the chatter about Professor Margaret's visit.

Beyond the intrusive presence of a brazen young woman, he recalled no other visitor.

As the woman circulated, James sensed the room's homage to her, imagining her an enchanting figure, yet could not forgive her violation of the examination verdict.

Thus, stubbornly, he refused, till the end, to lift his eyes; such a glance, he felt, would betray Professor Margaret.

Among peers in an environment of solemn respect for the professor, James vowed to honor his conviction to the last.

Or was it due to this resolve that he missed the sight of Margaret, the professor himself? Was the woman instead meant to be her companion?

Anxiously, James lifted his gaze, hoping yet to glimpse his mentor.

As he peered outward, the kindly presence of Ms. Tammy from the library, amiably plump in her fifties, crossed his view.

He recognized a gentle kindness in her semblance, watching her until she vanished around a corner.

Only then did he return to his paper, cheeks ruddy, the thrill of encountering his revered professor lingering within.