Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!-Chapter 410: Illness

There were more of them today.

Melisa noticed it on her morning walk to Tessa’s house. Kitsune moving slowly, shoulders slumped, tails dragging. One woman sat on a bench, breathing hard like she’d just run a marathon. Another leaned against a wall, eyes closed, her friend holding her arm with obvious concern.

[That’s the fifth one I’ve seen this morning. Yesterday it was maybe two or three.]

She brought it up to Zephyra over breakfast.

"The sickness is getting worse. Have you noticed?"

Zephyra hummed, sipping her tea.

"I’ve noticed."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Don’t you have any theories? You’re the Court Sorceress. You’ve probably seen more magical ailments than anyone in Syux."

Zephyra set down her cup, looking thoughtful.

"It’s strange, I’ll admit. The symptoms don’t match any curse or disease I’m familiar with. But the village healers are working on it. I’m sure they’ll figure it out."

[That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?]

Melisa wanted to push harder, but Zephyra was already standing, brushing crumbs from her robe.

"Practice your detection today. Walk the village, read as many signatures as you can. It’s good exercise."

So Melisa did.

She spent hours wandering Foxhollow’s streets, her awareness extended outward like a net. Every kitsune she passed registered as a unique signature, and she catalogued them all. The baker with her warm, flour-dusted energy. The children playing near the well, their essences bright and chaotic. The elderly woman tending her garden, slow and steady and calm.

And the sick ones.

Melisa paused near a kitsune who’d stopped to rest on a low wall. The woman’s breathing was labored, her skin pale, her tail limp behind her.

Melisa reached out with her senses.

The signature was... thin. That was the only word for it. Where healthy kitsune burned bright, this woman flickered like a candle in the wind. Her essence felt stretched, diluted, like someone had taken a full cup and poured half of it out.

[Huh. That’s weird.]

She found another sick kitsune a few streets over. Same thing. Thin essence, flickering signature, that strange sense of something missing.

And another.

And another.

By midafternoon, Melisa had checked over a dozen of the affected villagers. Every single one had the same pattern: essence that felt siphoned, drained, less than it should be.

[It’s not a disease. Diseases don’t drain essence like this. This is something else.]

She sat on a bench near the village square, turning the problem over in her mind.

Kitsune generated essence naturally, just like humans. They didn’t need to drain it from others the way nim did. So if their essence was being depleted, something had to be taking it. Actively. Continuously.

[But what? And how? And why only some of them?]

She didn’t have answers. But she had a theory now, and that was more than she’d had this morning.

[I should investigate more. Talk to the healers, maybe. See if they’ve noticed the same pattern.]

She filed it away for later. Right now, the sun was setting and she had somewhere to be.

---

The Laughing Fox was busy tonight.

Melisa pushed through the crowd, scanning for Sylra. She found her behind the bar, leaning close to a kitsune patron and laughing at something the woman had said.

Melisa recognized the patron. A regular, one she’d seen here several times before. Orange hair, three tails, usually cheerful.

Tonight, she looked terrible. Pale skin, dark circles under her eyes, movements sluggish and tired. One of the sick ones. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Sylra touched her arm, her smile warm and sympathetic. The kitsune smiled back, that same dazed, happy expression Melisa had noticed on other patrons before.

Something prickled at the back of Melisa’s mind.

[That’s... hm.]

But then Sylra looked up, spotted Melisa, and her whole face lit up.

"There you are! I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me."

"Never." Melisa slid onto her usual stool. "Busy night?"

"The usual." Sylra was already pouring her drink. "How was your day?"

---

They talked for a while, the easy back-and-forth that had become comfortable over the past week. Melisa mentioned her practice, her observations about the sick kitsune. Sylra listened, nodding in the right places, asking questions that showed she was paying attention.

Eventually, as always, they ended up upstairs.

Sylra’s tongue was doing incredible things.

Melisa gripped the headboard, her hips rolling against Sylra’s mouth. The nim woman had pinned her thighs apart and was taking her time, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, precise flicks that made Melisa’s toes curl.

"You know," Sylra murmured against her, breath hot on sensitive skin, "you were staring at me earlier."

"What?"

"When I was talking to Alira. The orange-haired regular." Sylra’s tongue circled lazily. "You had this little frown on your face. Very cute."

"I wasn’t—" Melisa’s breath hitched as Sylra hit a particularly good spot. "I wasn’t frowning."

"You were." Sylra pulled back just enough to grin up at her. "Were you jealous?"

"No!"

"Liar."

"I’m not—oh fuck, do that again—"

Sylra did it again. And again. Her fingers joined her tongue, sliding inside with practiced ease, curling just right.

"It’s okay to be jealous," Sylra said between movements. "I think it’s sweet. The famous Melisa Blackflame, getting possessive over a bartender."

"I’m not possessive, I just—"

Sylra sucked on her clit.

Melisa stopped being able to form sentences.

The orgasm built slow, Sylra drawing it out, keeping her right at the edge until Melisa was practically begging. And when she finally let her fall, it crashed through her like a wave, leaving her boneless and gasping.

As the pleasure faded and her heartbeat slowed, a stray thought drifted through her mind.

[The sick kitsune. Their essence is being drained. But by what?]

Sylra crawled up beside her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"You’re thinking about something."

"Just... the village. The sickness." Melisa stared at the ceiling. "Something’s wrong here, Sylra. I can feel it."

"The healers will figure it out."

"Maybe."

But as Sylra curled against her, warm and satisfied, Melisa couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something obvious.

Something right in front of her face.