Succubus Magician Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After the Golden Ball competition came the Magic Aptitude Examination organized by the Department of Elemental Magic Administration.

The Magic Aptitude Examination was held once a year, and what Allen and the others were taking was mainly the Magic Apprentice Examination.

Passing it would qualify them as Magic Apprentices, granting them the right to purchase and use wands.

“Hey, Allen.” Adeline turned her upper body, leaning back in her chair. “Are you still reviewing? With your ability, you’ll definitely pass the exam.”

Allen: “This is previewing.”

“Alright, good student.” Adeline shrugged and turned back around.

Less than three seconds later, Adeline couldn’t help herself again. “Have you bought your wand yet? My mother already bought the Phoenixwood wand I wanted for me.”

Spurt joined the conversation: “The Dragon’s Blood wand I wanted has also been purchased. Based on past experience, it’s best to buy wands before the exam, otherwise, after the exam, wands might increase in price or be out of stock.”

Adeline: “Right, right. I heard a senior last year bought his wand after the exam, and the one he wanted was bought by someone else. He had to wait over a month for a new one.”

Both of them looked at Allen.

Allen nodded: “My brother bought one for me.”

“Oh, do you live with your brother?” Adeline asked, then quickly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Please ignore me if it’s inconvenient.”

Allen: “It’s fine, I do live with my brother.”

Spurt quickly changed the subject: “Why haven’t you brought your wand to the academy? We couldn’t resist showing ours off.”

Allen: “Brother won’t let me, he’s afraid I might accidentally hurt classmates.”

Adeline nodded in understanding: “My mother won’t let me either. She always says I’m too impulsive.”

As they chatted, Spurt checked the time: “Should we go have lunch first? I brought specially made butter-roasted goose from my family’s cook today. We can share it.”

Allen packed his books: “Let’s eat first.”

The three of them had become lunch companions, and when they had classes together, Allen often chose to go with them.

The sun was beautiful that day, so they chose to eat lunch by the lake.

A gentle spring breeze blew past, rustling their robes and carrying the sound of an argument from upwind.

Allen glanced to the side and unexpectedly saw the classmate who had been harassed on the street.

The same group of people was surrounding him this time.

Adeline followed Allen’s gaze and whispered very quietly, “Lusca is bullying someone again.”

Allen looked confused.

Spurt also explained quietly: “He’s Count Montbatten’s nephew, from the Swordsmanship Academy, and the most prominent young master in our academy.”

Adeline added: “Count Montbatten only has one daughter, so he might marry Miss Montbatten and inherit the title.”

Spurt: “It’s also possible. I heard Count Montbatten might adopt him.”

They were far enough away, speaking quietly enough, and downwind.

Thus, none of the three realized that this conversation might be overheard.

Until someone among the arguing group turned their head and shouted, “Hey, who are you talking about?”

Spurt was startled: “Run!”

The three turned to flee, and Allen even pulled up his hood.

They couldn’t get away; a group of people ran over and surrounded the three of them.

Spurt said with a grimace: “Young Master Rodell.”

A swordsman stared at them: “Now you’re scared to talk? You snot-nosed brats, weren’t you just having a lively discussion?”

Saying that, someone came up and shoved Allen and the other two.

Allen remained silent. Spurt said: “We were just talking about the Magic Aptitude Examination?”

“Why did I hear the name of Count Montbatten?” a swordsman sneered. “You little brats, get over to those bushes over there. I’m going to wash your mouths out today!”

Another swordsman yanked Allen’s hood down from behind: “Hey, here’s a little brat hiding his face.”

Allen stumbled, and his platinum-blonde hair spilled out.

Everyone’s gaze shifted to him.

Lusca Rodell sneered: “It’s the Ice Beauty of the Magic Academy. No wonder those two foolish brats were chattering on—they were trying to impress you.”

Allen pursed his lips, kept his head down, and said nothing.

A swordsman shoved Allen: “Young Master Rodell is talking to you. What, you don’t want to talk to Young Master Rodell?”

Allen stumbled, and someone grabbed his upper arm and pulled him back: “Maybe he’s relying on his brother?”

Someone pushed Allen’s waist, making him fall to the other side: “Who is his brother? That famous dog of the Count? Hahaha.”

“Oh, a little dog, come here for a bath,” someone said, twisting Allen’s arm with a laugh. “The little dog even wants to use potions to ambush us? Did you think our swordsmanship classes were for nothing?”

“Wait!” Allen looked at Lusca and said word by word, “I don’t want to report this to my brother and cause trouble for both sides. I believe Young Master Rodell also wouldn’t want any rumors reaching the Count.”

Lusca raised his hand to stop his men and stared at Allen. After a long moment, he sneered: “I’ll beat that dog to death sooner or later!”

This Lusca Rodell must have a bad relationship with Lancelot and was at a disadvantage.

Once Allen realized this, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Lusca stared at him.

Allen was the first to look away and signaled to Adeline and Spurt beside him.

Adeline and Spurt backed away and soon left the spot.

Once they were far enough away that Lusca and his group couldn’t hear, Adeline apologized regretfully: “I’m sorry, I implicated you both. I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

Spurt: “I was involved too. How can those swordsmen have such sharp ears?”

Adeline muttered: “If they weren’t strong, they wouldn’t dare bully people every day.”

Spurt: “Goddess above, it’s a good thing they’re afraid of Allen’s brother, or we would have been in big trouble today.”

Allen: “Let’s go, we’ll eat lunch somewhere else.”

Allen didn’t mention the incident to Lancelot when he returned.

Lancelot discovered it quickly nonetheless.

The marks on his shoulder and waist betrayed him.

Allen was pressed onto the soft mattress, completely unable to turn over: “Brother.”

Lancelot’s hand rested on the bruise on Allen’s shoulder, his gaze almost tangible. Just as Allen thought he was about to say something, Lancelot lowered his head and bit down.

“Hiss.” Allen frowned, enduring the pain.

His teeth sank into the soft skin, then Lancelot licked it, and the pain turned into a tingling numbness.

Allen gritted his teeth, thinking: How is this Count Montbatten’s dog? He’s at least Count Montbatten’s wolf.

Dogs wouldn’t be so fierce, refusing to let go of their prey.

Only wolves would be both fierce and persistent, not stopping until they achieved their goal.

His lips and tongue withdrew, replaced by a large, rough palm. Allen was flipped over and examined like a cat.

Soon, Lancelot confirmed he had no other injuries.

The large hand holding Allen finally let go, replaced by a more ferocious action.

Lancelot always vented his energy on Allen, but there weren’t many times he was this rough.

Allen was sure he wasn’t injured, but it was indeed hard to bear.

When it was over, his eyelashes, like roses drenched in rain, were stuck together, making them appear even thicker.

He opened his eyes and turned to look at Lancelot.

Lancelot’s handsome face was filled with satisfaction. Meeting his gaze, Lancelot leaned over and kissed his lips: “Allen.”

Allen blinked, exhaling weakly, but still responded: “Brother.”

Their slightly rough lips brushed against his tender ones, and almost the next second, Allen was pulled into a burning embrace around his waist.

Allen was a little surprised that the other party still had energy. He blinked tiredly, his long, thick eyelashes seeming heavy at that moment, almost making him close his eyes.

At this moment, Allen suddenly thought of the Magic Aptitude Examination. After becoming Magic Apprentices, they would gradually move towards more subtle paths.

Perhaps becoming an alchemist wouldn’t be bad. Then, he could create potions to make certain people less energetic.

Allen thought tiredly and annoyed, clenching his teeth.

A finger reached in and touched his white teeth, finally resting on his pointed canine: “Focus.”

“Brother!” Allen called out indistinctly and angrily, but his lips were rubbed even redder, and then his wrists were grasped and kissed.

Allen was almost certain that Lancelot was very satisfied with him.

That made sense; otherwise, why would Lancelot buy him a wand?

When his earlobe was nipped, Allen was completely focused.

Unfortunately, his physical strength didn’t allow him to concentrate until the end. As his vision began to darken, Allen, breathing out hot air, started to drift off again, mentally pondering several potion formulas in annoyance.

When he woke up the next day, his body felt dry, and there were no discomforts.

However, while washing up in the washroom, he looked in the mirror and clearly noticed his lips were redder than usual.

Although they weren’t swollen or painful, they felt hot and swollen, not fully recovered.

Allen frowned and took out a potion he had made from the cabinet, applying it to his lips.

He was always careful when going to the academy, never leaving any extra traces.

Lancelot was not at the dining table during breakfast.

Allen didn’t ask any questions.

This family had many secrets, and Allen never pried too much.

As long as Lancelot was willing to pay his tuition, that was enough. It was even better if he could provide wands, potion materials, and pocket money.

He would be an obedient lover who kept his mouth shut.

After finishing breakfast, Allen prepared to go to school.

The carriage he was familiar with was still parked outside the archway, but there was an extra man inside the carriage, and the coachman was waiting respectfully outside the carriage instead of on the driver’s seat.

Several male servants also waited nearby.

Seeing Allen approach, the personal servant, Molly, bowed first: “Young Master Allen.”

Allen looked into the carriage and was surprised: “Brother, are you using the carriage today? I—”

He was about to suggest the servant find a spare carriage or look for a public carriage outside, but Lancelot said: “Get in.”

Allen stood before the carriage without moving, looking up at Lancelot: “Is this because of Young Master Lusca? Brother, you don’t need to worry. As long as Young Master Lusca has his eyes on the Count’s position, he won’t act recklessly.”

Lancelot didn’t speak, merely gesturing to the seat beside him with his chin.

Seeing that he wouldn’t speak further, Allen lifted the hem of his robe, got into the carriage, and sat next to Lancelot.

“It’s not because of Young Master Lusca.” Lancelot reached out, grasped Allen’s neck, and stroked it, saying.

Allen’s breathing hitched: “Understood, Brother.”