I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 175: The Nature of Who We Were

The evening in Lilyshade Vale was quiet.

Isaac sat beneath a flowering tree that pulsed with a faint golden glow, its blossoms shaped like teardrops and scented with dusklight and myrrh. The gentle breeze carried the sounds of laughter from a distant plaza—innocent, real, undisturbed.

Asmodeus sat beside him.

No veil of power. No illusion of seduction.

Just her.

Hair like woven sunlight braided loosely over one shoulder, violet eyes focused on the sky above. For a long time, she said nothing. Neither did he.

Then, softly, she broke the silence.

"You thought we were monsters once, didn't you?"

Isaac blinked, slowly turning to face her.

"I did," he admitted. "Everything I ever heard about succubi and incubi… wasn't good. Seduction. Lies. Betrayal. Manipulation. Feeding on desire until nothing was left."

She nodded, as if expecting the answer.

"Because we were."

Isaac didn't speak.

Her voice was steady. Not cold. Not ashamed. Just honest.

"For most of our history, we lived exactly as the stories say. We preyed on others—not just for sustenance, but for amusement, for vengeance, for validation. We didn't just feed on desire. We warped it. We made others want us, then hollowed them out from the inside."

Isaac listened, silently.

"I was born into that," Asmodeus continued. "Not as a queen—but as a weapon. My first lessons were how to manipulate a heart, how to enslave a soul with affection, and how to leave them begging for more while I drained them dry."

She didn't flinch.

"I hated it."

Isaac looked at her now, not with judgment—but with curiosity. "So… what changed?"

She gave a breath that trembled just slightly before settling.

"I did."

Her fingers brushed the grass.

"I realized something: we weren't powerful because we controlled others. We were weak because we depended on them—to feel whole, to feel in control, to feel wanted. And it was killing us. Slowly. Spiritually. Entire generations of my people couldn't tell the difference between love and ownership."

She looked at him then.

"I destroyed it all."

Isaac raised a brow. "All of it?"

"All the old teachings. All the sanctums. All the indoctrinations that taught our kind that loyalty was a flaw. That control was power. I burned it down and gave them something new."

Her voice softened.

"A choice."

He leaned back. "And they followed?"

"Not all," she said simply. "Some left. Some died resisting. Some refused to believe that love without dominance was anything but weakness."

She turned to the tree above them.

"But those who stayed? Those who chose to try? They changed. We changed. Slowly. Painfully. But permanently."

Isaac's voice was low. "So now…?"

Asmodeus smiled, a quiet, radiant thing.

"Now, succubi and incubi who dwell in Lilyshade are not bound by instinct or hunger. They choose partners with their full hearts—and when they do, they love them completely."

Isaac looked at her with something deeper than respect.

"You rebuilt your people from the inside out."

She nodded.

"And now," she said gently, "those who swear themselves to someone—do so forever. Not as slaves. Not as feeders. As lovers. As soulmates. As family."

Silence followed.

Then Isaac asked the question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

"…Have you ever sworn yourself to anyone?"

Asmodeus looked at him for a long time.

"No," she said. "Not yet."

Her tone wasn't flirtatious.

It was sincere.

"I've had interest. Affection. Even curiosity. But not trust. Not real enough to offer what I demand of the others."

Isaac said nothing for a moment. Then asked, quietly,

"And now?"

Asmodeus didn't answer right away.

Instead, she reached out and picked one of the golden blossoms from the tree overhead.

She held it in her palm and watched it glow.

"…I don't know," she said softly. "But for the first time in all my life…"

She looked at him.

"…I think I want to."