I Took A Succubus's First Time

Misuzu and Kouhei returned to the entertainment agency where she was working, the cool evening air carrying the lingering warmth of the setting sun. The soft hum of conversations and footsteps echoed through the hallways.

Strangely enough, Chihiro was nowhere to be seen. It seemed that she wouldn't be participating in today's photoshoot.

"Hmm? Together again, I see," one of the staff members commented, eyeing Kouhei with mild curiosity before turning her attention to Misuzu. "I get that it's fine having someone around like a bodyguard, but don't you think you should be more careful?"

Misuzu tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

"There's no telling if some sneaky paparazzi are lurking nearby, waiting for the perfect moment to snap a picture and start a rumor. It's one thing to have company, but it's another thing entirely to let your guard down."

Her voice was casual, but there was an underlying weight to her words—a warning wrapped in concern.

"I mean, sure, it's not like relationships are forbidden," she continued, crossing her arms. "Chihiro-san herself said as much. But don't take that for granted. The entertainment industry isn't as forgiving as people like to think."

Misuzu's grip on her bag tightened slightly.

"I know," she responded, her voice firm yet calm. "And I assure you, I'm keeping the boys at arm's length."

A brief pause.

"Besides," she added, lowering her gaze slightly, "I already told you—Okumura-kun and I aren't like that. We barely even spoke before all this. And anyway…"

A bitter smile ghosted her lips.

"It's not like he's interested in me, anyway."

The staff member let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. "Even if he isn't, the real problem is if you are. Just one week from now, you'll be making your debut as an actress. Your image needs to be spotless. You need to make sure your fans—especially your male fans—see you as someone they can admire, someone they can long for."

It wasn't an exaggeration.

Time and time again, the entertainment industry had proven just how ruthless it could be.

Idols who had been adored one day were cast aside the next, their careers crumbling the moment a relationship was exposed. Stalkers, obsessive fans, endless scrutiny—those who failed to maintain their public image suffered consequences that were often irreversible.

Even virtual idols—who hid their faces behind digital personas—weren't safe. All it took was one slip-up, one careless moment, for the illusion to shatter.

That was why most entertainers avoided serious relationships until they reached the peak of their careers. They could play around, indulge in meaningless flings, but an official relationship?

That was a death sentence.

People had too much time on their hands, and instead of focusing on their own lives, they used it to tear others down.

Which was why…

I have to shut this down.

Before it could bloom any further, she had to cut it off. Trim it before it grew too large. Crush it before it spilled over.

If she didn't—

She knew it would end badly.

"…I understand already," Misuzu murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

But even as she said the words, even as she told herself to stop—

Her heart refused to listen.

Something was wrong with her.

And she had no idea how to fix it.

***

The photoshoot passed without a hitch.

Bright flashes of light filled the studio, capturing every movement, every subtle shift in expression. The soft click of the camera shutter echoed in the air, accompanied by murmurs of approval from the director and crew.

The models posed effortlessly, their practiced smiles and calculated angles ensuring every shot was flawless. But no matter how good they were—

None of them could outshine Misuzu.

She was a natural.

Every movement she made, every glance she gave, was mesmerizing. She didn't just stand in front of the camera—she commanded it. The moment she stepped onto the set, she became something otherworldly, untouchable.

Perfection in human form.

"Nice work."

Kouhei's voice broke through the lingering hum of the studio as he approached her, a cold bottle of water in hand.

Misuzu turned to him, her chest rising and falling lightly from exertion. The faint sheen of sweat on her skin only seemed to add to her allure.

"Thank you," she said softly, reaching out to take the bottle from him.

Her fingers brushed against his—just for a second. But that single second sent a strange, electric sensation racing up her arm.

She ignored it.

Lifting the bottle to her lips, she drank. Slowly. Elegantly.

Even something as simple as drinking water—

She made it look effortless.

Kouhei watched her for a moment before speaking again. "It looks like you're enjoying this job, Yuki-san."

Misuzu lowered the bottle, wiping the corner of her lips with the back of her hand.

A faint, almost wistful smile crossed her face.

"Well…" she murmured, her voice soft. "It's actually been a dream of mine for a long time."

"A dream?"

"Well... it's been decades since I first dreamt of it," Misuzu murmured, her voice soft yet carrying the weight of something long buried. "I've always wanted to be someone people admired... someone they could look up to." She paused, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her water bottle. "But now... maybe I was just an attention seeker all along."

Kouhei frowned slightly. "I don't think it's as simple as that," he said firmly. "If you were just seeking attention, you wouldn't have worked this hard. Someone chasing cheap fame wouldn't have put in this much effort… wouldn't have done it with this much grace."

Misuzu let out a bitter chuckle. "You know... I never told you my story when I first joined the Yuuna Faction, did I?"

"Well... it's not like they've told me their stories either," Kouhei replied with a shrug. "Though… Aria-san did share a bit about hers once."

Kouhei had never pressed the others about their pasts. He knew better than to pry. They were demons, after all—beings with lifetimes that stretched across decades and centuries. Their stories weren't lighthearted tales—they were weighed down with memories they'd rather not relive.

"I see..." Misuzu murmured, her gaze distant. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled—a fragile, uncertain smile. "Then... do you want to hear mine?"

The way she asked made Kouhei pause. Her voice wavered—not from weakness, but from something deeper.

"If you're willing to tell me... then yes. I'd like to hear it," Kouhei said.

"It's... a dull story," Misuzu warned, forcing a smile. "Are you sure you still want to know?"

"I've got time," Kouhei answered without hesitation. "And I promise I won't get bored."

Misuzu studied him for a moment longer, searching his face as if trying to decide whether he was sincere. Then she exhaled deeply and gave a quiet chuckle.

"Alright... you seem determined." She turned her gaze upward, her eyes clouded with memories. "Very well..."

And so, Yuki Misuzu began to tell her story.

***

Yuki Misuzu was born into a demon bloodline that united two powerful clans. One clan wielded the ability to manipulate memories, while the other specialized in highly efficient and potent ice magic.

As the eldest daughter of her household, Misuzu was expected to inherit both abilities—becoming a powerful figure who could master both arts and strengthen the union between the two clans.

Her parents' marriage had been arranged for this very purpose: to produce an heir who could possess both powers in perfect harmony. Their child was meant to be the ultimate successor, someone destined for greatness.

She was supposed to be that child.

But... Misuzu wasn't what they had hoped for.

Of the two abilities she was meant to possess, she could only wield one—memory manipulation.

And even that... was weak.

Where her mother could weave intricate illusions, rewrite entire memories, and alter minds with terrifying precision, Misuzu's power barely scratched the surface. She could erase fragments of memories, repair distorted thoughts, and slightly alter recollections—but that was all.

As for ice magic…

Her father's gift never manifested in her. No matter how fiercely she trained—how many sleepless nights she spent pouring her heart and soul into learning—it never came. Her ice spells flickered out like dying candles, frail and fleeting.

The stares... the whispers... they came swiftly.

"She's a failure."

"What a disgrace to the family."

"A wasted union... they should have tried again sooner."

Her parents were the first to lose hope. Misuzu could still remember the cold stares her mother gave her—the way her gaze had shifted from disappointment to indifference.

Her father... had barely looked at her at all.

The burden of their expectations weighed on her, dragging her deeper into self-loathing. Every bruise, every sore muscle, every sleepless night spent pushing herself beyond her limits… none of it mattered.

She was nothing.

And when her parents finally abandoned her… it didn't come as a surprise.

They discarded her without a second thought, turning their attention to their next attempt—Misuzu's younger sister.

The child they believed would succeed where Misuzu had failed.