Product Phase: pre-order
Product State: orderable
Novice Succubus:
The ritual to summon a succubus is said to be uncomplicated: a moonless, thick night, a simple circle hastily drawn with silver powder, and a desire fervent enough to serve as an anchor.
She emerged as the cloying purple smoke dissipated. Just as described in ancient scrolls—the curved horns, the folded membranous wings, and the attire that seemed less like clothing and more like a second layer of seductive skin. All of it, however, was veiled in an exceedingly rare shade of deep violet, as if steeped in the essence of night and dreams. The only departure from the records was the tip of her slender, restless tail—not a sharp heart-shape, but a small, soft tuft of downy fur that trembled faintly in the air.
She keenly caught the subtle shift in your gaze and lifted her small chin with a hint of pride. “This violet is proof of lineage,” she said, her voice initially carrying an unexpected clarity before deepening like aged wine, becoming low and viscous. “Now… look into my eyes.”
You found yourself drawn into her gaze. Her eyes were a peculiar shade of pink, and deep within the pupils, a miniature, living heart pulsed slowly, shimmering with a light that was both dangerous and intoxicating, pulling your consciousness forward…
“W-wait!” A short, startled cry escaped her. She leaped back gracefully like a startled bird, her wings snapping open with a rustle, stirring the air with a fragrance of violets.
You were certain you had only just brushed the cool skin of her arm with your fingertips. Yet the faint violet blush that spread rapidly across her pale cheeks—a shade matching her hair—left you wondering if it was genuine shyness or another illusion cast by this seductive creature.
Could a succubus… truly be flustered by a touch?
Flustered, she adjusted the hem of her skirt, which needed no adjusting. Her slender tail tapped the ground restlessly, the downy tip quivering with each motion, betraying her frustration. “Failed again…” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “At this rate, I won’t even have enough magic to return to the Abyss…”
A brief silence settled over the night, so profound it seemed you could hear the very flow of starlight. Then, as if steeling herself, she stepped closer once more. As she turned slightly, the short garment shifted, revealing a glimpse of smooth skin below her navel—
You caught sight of it. There, etched upon her lower abdomen, was a delicate inverted pentagram. This was no mere tattoo; within its lines, something like dark golden magma seemed to flow slowly, radiating an ancient and pure authority—the bloodline sigil bestowed only upon true high nobles of the Abyss.
She extended her hand toward you once more. It was slender, perfect, yet her fingertips trembled with an almost imperceptible uncertainty.
“This time…” Her voice was soft, carrying a tentative gentleness entirely different from the deliberate allure she had projected before. “May we… start with holding hands?”