Succubus Magician Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In Mayneuin County, the grass was turning green.

Allen, wearing a long robe, walked out of the castle, followed by a manservant carrying his luggage.

A carriage bearing the Motley family crest was parked quietly before the tall stone archway.

The manservant inside the carriage saw Allen’s figure and quickly opened the door.

Allen slightly lifted his robe and boarded the carriage.

The manservant quickly reached out to support his arm, but Allen gently avoided it.

In the front seat of the carriage, a man beside the coachman took off his hat and bowed to greet Allen, “Young Master Allen.”

Only then did Allen realize it was the butler, Brewer, and he also bowed slightly and greeted softly, “Lord Brewer.”

Brewer’s gaze swept over him with scrutiny before he withdrew his eyes, “Please just call me Brewer. His Excellency has instructed me to take you to Barcankod.”

The Elves Magic Academy was located in Barcankod.

Barcankod, as the county seat of Mayneuin County, was not far from the castle.

The coachman quickly urged the horses along the cobblestone road.

Allen looked out the carriage window; the Saint Valentine trees were blooming with delicate pink and white flowers, and the air was filled with their fragrance.

Watching the scenery outside the window, Allen soon fell asleep against the velvet cushion.

On his face, as white as ivory, there were faint shadows under his eyes. The lines of his closed eyelids were as captivating as a goddess’s ribbon, and his rosy lips were even more vibrant than the Saint Valentine flowers outside the window.

The manservant’s gaze lingered on his face, unable to move away until a cough sounded from the front. The manservant hastily averted his eyes, but his earlobes turned red.

The carriage traveled for a long time, but instead of heading to the Elves Magic Academy, it stopped before a manor on the outskirts of Barcankod.

Brewer said, “Young Master Allen, you will be staying at Montigny Manor while you are at school.”

Allen asked, “Brother’s arrangement?”

Brewer looked at him, “Yes, His Excellency’s arrangement.”

Allen nodded slightly, “I understand.”

Barcankod was not only the largest city in Mayneuin County but also one of the largest cities in the entire Shulaine and Moncali United Kingdom’s northwest region.

Allen had never left Motley Town in this world.

Suddenly arriving in bustling Barcankod and entering a new magic academy, he felt an unusual novelty.

His entry into the Elves Magic Academy proceeded smoothly. However, as a magic student of average talent, he found it quite challenging to cope with the complex and unfamiliar magic courses.

Fortunately, he was neither lacking in intelligence nor diligence, and he had no intention of wasting the tuition fee of three hundred gold coins a year.

His life at the Elves Magic Academy soon settled into a routine.

Time passed quickly.

One day in early May.

Allen returned to the manor from the Elves Magic Academy and found a tall figure exuding immense pressure sitting in the reception hall.

“Brother?” Allen stood at the doorway against the light.

Lancelot looked up, “Is school going smoothly?”

Allen nervously fiddled with the fabric beside him, “Very smoothly, better than I imagined. Thank you, brother.”

Lancelot nodded, “Prepare for dinner.”

Allen quickly said, “I’ve already eaten.”

Meeting Lancelot’s intensely imposing eyes, Allen gripped his clothes tighter and mumbled, “Today we had the Communication and Practice of Domesticated Spirits class; food was provided during the lesson.”

Lancelot said, “Dine with me.”

Allen replied, “Yes.”

At the dinner table, Lancelot asked Allen about his life at the magic academy.

Allen didn’t socialize much at the magic academy, but his classmates were nice, and most magic courses weren’t difficult.

As Allen described his life at the magic academy, he somewhat regretted saying he had already eaten.

At that moment, he should have been having a salad, eating it slowly, and avoiding having to say so much at the dinner table.

Perhaps he should have asked Lancelot why he was in Barcankod, engaging in a back-and-forth conversation so he wouldn’t have to talk so much himself.

At the very least, it wouldn’t have left him with a dry mouth from talking so much.

In the end, Allen asked nothing.

Having spoken too much, he had to sip the sweet wine placed beside him, then stuck out his pink tongue to lick the corner of his mouth, which was stained with the sweet liquid.

Lancelot’s gaze fell upon his lips. Allen lowered his eyes and obediently sipped dry his lips, which were exceptionally red from the moisture of the wine.

Allen prayed inwardly that Lancelot would soon return to Motley Town.

However, the next day, as they were setting off in a small boat for the potion class on the Potion Island, Allen suddenly heard a familiar sound.

He turned his head to look toward the shore.

The swordsmanship academy next door was having a class on the bank.

Goddess above.

Allen suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Allen, did you see him?” A classmate beside him leaned closer to speak to Allen.

Allen asked, “See what?”

The classmate laughed, “The swordsmanship academy has a new professor, the very famous Lord Motley. Are you looking at him?”

Allen subconsciously shook his head but didn’t look away.

There weren’t many Motleys in Mayneuin County, and the only one he knew who was alive now was Lancelot Motley.

The classmate continued, “Many people specifically come to see that handsome lord.”

Allen glanced at the others in the small boat; indeed, many were looking toward the shore.

As the small boat moved forward a few meters, a suppressed shriek of excitement suddenly erupted from the surroundings.

Many classmates’ faces flushed red.

Allen looked back toward the shore and indeed saw a familiar figure.

That familiar figure looked toward the lake upon hearing the commotion.

Allen immediately met those cold, intensely imposing eyes.

Those eyes stared over here and did not look away.

Even from this distance, Allen could feel the gaze like a sharp sword.

Allen froze for a moment, and the voice of the classmate beside him sounded, “Goddess above, he is truly handsome.”

Warm breath puffed near Allen’s ear. He startled slightly, quickly turned his head away, and uncomfortably shifted to the side, creating distance.

Only then did the gaze from the shore move away.

Sitting in the small boat, Allen’s heart pounded. He lowered his eyes and didn’t look back in that direction again.

When the classmate beside him spoke, he didn’t reply either.

It wasn’t until the classmate regretfully ended the topic and started chatting with others that Allen reacted.

After class, Allen boarded the carriage waiting for him outside the academy and urged them to hurry back to the manor.

The coachman pulled the reins, and the two white steeds galloped, taking them toward the outskirts.

Upon returning to Montigny Manor, Lancelot had not yet returned.

He breathed a sigh of relief, told the manservant he wouldn’t eat dinner as he needed to finish his homework, and then quickly retreated to his room.

No one came to call him until bedtime.

Allen gradually relaxed.

Late at night, after washing up, he put on his nightgown and climbed into the warm, soft bed, preparing to sleep.

He had just lain down when there was a light knock on the door, not loud, but firm.

“Molly?” Allen softly called the name of his personal manservant.

“It’s me.” A deep voice sounded outside the door.

It was Lancelot’s voice.

Allen got out of bed and opened the door.

Lancelot, dressed in his nightclothes, stood outside the door holding a glass of golden sweet wine, looking down at him.

Allen froze, “Brother?”

Lancelot handed over the sweet wine and said slowly, “A lover worth three hundred gold coins shouldn’t only be for one time, right?”

Allen, sipping the sweet wine, instantly flushed crimson, and his hand paused.

Lancelot grasped his fair wrist and applied slight pressure.

The rim of the cup tilted, and the wine flowed into Allen’s mouth, which was stained an especially bright red, “Continue.”

Allen was forced to drink the entire glass of sweet wine, and the moist breath he exhaled carried the sweet aroma of the liquor.

He felt slightly dizzy.

Lancelot’s gaze deepened, and he lifted Allen around the waist.

The crystal glass fell onto the thick carpet with a dull thud.

Allen landed on the soft, white bedding with a soft sound.

Soon, the soft fabric was removed, and the temperature in the room rose considerably.

As the temperature rose, a unique, faint fragrance evaporated, filling the entire room with a warm yet light sweetness.

The room was filled with a subtle fragrance, and the moonlight outside was hazy.

It wasn’t until the latter half of the night that someone opened the window.

The slightly damp night air rushed into the room, sweeping away most of the sweet scent, but it couldn’t erase the faint fragrance lingering on the corners of his clothes and in his hair.

In the morning, birdsong echoed in the garden outside the window.

Allen opened his eyes, which were like green jewels, and stared at the bed curtains with sleepy haze. After a while, he finally woke up completely.

He tried to get out of bed.

With the slightest movement, he almost cried out.

He bit down hard on his scarlet lips with his white teeth, managing to suppress the faint sound in his throat.

It was too much.

Allen lowered his slightly moist eyes. With the slightest movement, his entire body ached.

Especially in his hips and waist, because they had been spread too far apart, or apart for too long, there was an unbearable soreness and itchiness in the gaps between his bones.

Allen frowned, supporting himself on his elbow on the soft bed, trying to sit up.

His body ached so much that he could barely get up.

A pair of hot hands gently pressed against his waist.

He nearly jumped up.

Those hands tightened, pulling him close, pinning him against a firm, hot body.

“Brother?” Allen struggled lightly and looked up to meet Lancelot’s visually striking face.

Lancelot pulled back the covers and glanced down, sighing, “How can it be this tender?”

Allen lowered his gaze and remained silent.

“We need to apply some medicinal ointment,” Lancelot said.

Lancelot quickly brought over the medicinal ointment.

Allen recognized the magic seal on the mouth of the crystal bottle; one bottle of this ointment cost forty gold coins.

If that gold were melted down and cast into a solid gold bottle, it would probably be taller than this crystal bottle.

Lancelot took some ointment and applied it to Allen with his hand.

Allen lay face down on the pillow, burying his face deep into the soft cushion, making no sound.

His earlobes were red, his muscles tense, and the two shoulder blades stretched into beautiful lines, resembling a delicate, ivory-colored butterfly.

A moment later, Lancelot, having washed his hands, stood by the bed and apologized, “I’m sorry.”

Lancelot paused, then said quietly, “I lost control last night; it won’t happen again.”

Allen’s voice came from within the pillow, “It’s fine.”

Lancelot gently patted his lower back as a gesture of comfort.

A moment later, Allen’s voice sounded again from the pillow, “It wasn’t painful last night, just overly stimulating.”