Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!-Chapter 121: Junior Sorceress Melisa Blackflame, Part Seven

{Jaylin}

Jaylin stood in the garden, her hand outstretched as she hammered out the spell parry for the millionth fucking time.

The sun beat down on her shoulders relentlessly, sweat trickling down her back in a gross reminder that she was, unfortunately, in this little predicament of hers.

[Fucking Melisa,] she seethed, her jaw clenched so tight she could hear her teeth grinding. [Of all the useless... purple interlopers to get paired with, it had to be her. Fan-fucking-tastic,] she thought, as if there was more than one nim in her class.

She’d gone to the professor about it after class. Talked about how she’d like to be paired up with that other girl - (Raven? Whatever) - and that Melisa should be left to do this on her own, but noooooo.

"You can work with her."

"It’ll be fine."

"Miss Blackflame is brilliant!"

Jaylin scowled.

[Not that it matters,] she thought, face warming up as she remembered Melisa’s stupid, chipper face this morning, bouncing out of the house like she was off to receive her "Special Snowflake of the Year" award. [She’s probably off with Aunt Javir, learning how to turn water into alcohol or something.]

The familiar twist of jealousy churned in Jaylin’s gut, a poisonous cocktail of resentment that she’d been chugging her entire life.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair how Melisa got everything handed to her on a silver platter, how she was always the golden child, always the one everyone fawned over.

[Whatever,] Jaylin snapped at herself, shaking her head like she could physically dislodge the thoughts. [I don’t need her. I don’t need Aunt Javir. I don’t need anyone. I’ll figure this out on my own, just like I always do, because apparently, that’s my lot in life.]

She raised her hand again, ready to beat this spell into submission through sheer force of will, when the sound of the glass doors sliding open shattered her concentration.

Jaylin whirled around, her eyes narrowing to slits as she saw Margaret - the matriarch of this whole nim circus - step out into the garden.

The nim’s kind smile and gently swaying, massive, obscene breasts were like a one-two punch of nausea to Jaylin’s system.

[Oh, great. Just what I needed.]

"Jaylin, dear," Margaret called out, her voice dripping with enough sweetness to make Jaylin’s teeth ache. "I noticed you’ve been out here for a while. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

Jaylin’s first instinct was to tell the nim exactly where she could shove her offer, preferably somewhere anatomically impossible. But she swallowed the vitriol, forcing her face into a mask of indifference.

"No, thank you," she bit out, each word clipped and formal. "I’m fine."

Margaret’s smile flickered, a momentary crack in her perfect little housewife facade, before she plastered it back on.

"Of course. But if you change your mind, just let me know. I’m happy to help however I can."

[I’m sure you are,] Jaylin thought as she turned her back on Margaret, dismissing her silently. The soft sigh and retreating footsteps that followed were music to her ears.

[Good riddance. The sooner Aunt Javir realizes this whole family is nothing but a... a pack of parasites, the better.]

Jaylin raised her hand once more, ready to lose herself in the mind-numbing repetition of the spell, when the pitter-patter of tiny feet made her want to scream.

"I said, I don’t want-" she began, whirling around with fire in her eyes, only to be brought up short by the sight of Hazel, Melisa’s pint-sized shadow, staring at her with wide-eyed wonder.

[Oh, for fuck’s sake. What did I do in a past life to deserve this?]

She opened her mouth, ready to send the little nim packing with a few choice words that would probably scar her for life.

But something in Hazel’s expression made her pause.

The girl looked... genuinely impressed. Like Jaylin was performing miracles instead of just basic spell work. For a split second, Jaylin felt a flutter of something that might have been...

Pride.

[... Whatever,] she sighed. [If she wants to watch natural, unaided talent at work, let her.]

Scowling, Jaylin turned back to her practice, determinedly ignoring the weight of Hazel’s gaze on her back. She threw herself into the spell with renewed vigor, channeling all her frustration and bitterness into each movement.

[I’ll show them,] she vowed, a fire burning in her chest that had nothing to do with the summer heat. [I’ll show them all what real talent looks like. And when I’m standing at the top, when I’m the one everyone’s talking about... then they’ll see. Then they’ll understand that I’m the one who deserves to be here. Not some purple-skinned charity case with a famous private tutor and dumb luck.]

---

{Margaret}

Later, Margaret sank into the plush cushions of the couch, a wistful sigh escaping her lips as she stared out the window.

The house was quiet, peaceful - almost too peaceful. It was hard to put it into words for Margaret. It was like... Like a beautifully decorated cake with no flavor.

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She couldn’t deny it anymore; the reality was all but tap-dancing on her head.

She was bored out of her mind.

Outside, Jaylin’s magic crackled the same way it had been for the past several hours. All while Hazel watched on and Margaret all but melted into the couch.

[Oh goodness, I really shouldn’t be feeling this way,] she thought, a blush coloring her cheeks. [I have so much to be grateful for. A loving family, a roof over our heads, and Melistair’s... ahem... nightly attentions.]

The last thought sent a delicious shiver down her spine, but it wasn’t enough to dispel the restlessness. Discover stories with novelbuddy

Over the past eight years, she’d kept busy with raising Hazel and fussing over Melisa’s progress at the academy. But now, with Hazel growing more independent by the day and Melisa off saving kings and wooing court sorceresses, Margaret found herself with just a little too much in the form of free time.

[Back in Lessmark, I’d be gossiping with the neighbors right about now,] she mused, a fond smile tugging at her lips like a mischievous child. [We’d chat and laugh, share stories about our little ones, and maybe sneak a nip of brandy when the ladies’ men weren’t looking.]

But those days were as gone as last week’s leftovers.

Now, her only close friend in Syux, even after all these years, was Javir, and even that relationship was more complicated than a kitsune’s family tree.

After all, she and Melistair were guests in Javir’s home - very long-term, possibly overstaying guests, but guests nonetheless.

[If there’s one thing I wish was different about Syux,] Margaret thought, her inner voice taking on a rare note of frustration, [it’s that I could actually talk to people without them acting like I’m carrying a plague. Everyone around me just sees purple and instantly tenses up! Hate it...]

She was just about to retreat to her bedroom and lose herself in a trashy romance novel Javir had bought for her (the kind with abs on the cover that would make Melistair jealous) when movement caught her eye.

Margaret paused, her brow furrowing in concern as she spotted Jaylin in the garden, the girl’s face flushed with exertion from her spell practice.

[Oh, the poor dear,] Margaret thought, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive like a runaway carriage. [She’s been working so hard. I wonder if she’d like a little pick-me-up now, maybe?]

Before she knew it, Margaret found herself heading for the back door, a tray of tea and freshly baked biscuits balanced in her hands like a circus act.

She stepped out into the garden, the warm, fragrant air caressing her like a lover.

"Jaylin, sweetheart," she called out, her voice warm enough to melt butter. "I thought you might like a little break after all that practicing. I made tea and biscuits, if you’d like to join me. They’re not poisoned, I promise!" She added the last part with a little chuckle, hoping to break the ice.

Jaylin downright paled when she heard that.

[Uh... A poor joke on my part, I guess.]

Jaylin turned to face her, and for a moment, Margaret thought she saw a flicker of something in the girl’s eyes - surprise, perhaps. But it vanished quicker than Melistair’s paycheck at a tavern, replaced by Jaylin’s usual "I’d rather eat glass than talk to you" expression.

"Thank you, but I’m fine," the girl said, her voice quiet as a mouse. "I should really get back to my studies."

Margaret nodded, trying to hide her disappointment behind a bright smile.

"Of course, dear," she said, her tone gentle. "I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work. But please, if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to come find me. I’m always happy to lend an ear or share a cup of tea. Or a shoulder to cry on. Or a kidney, if you need one."

Again, her joke got no giggles.

Jaylin nodded stiffly. Margaret couldn’t blame her, really. The Foldens (minus Javir) had always kept their distance from the Blackflames, treating them like they were made of lava instead of purple flesh and blood.

[But maybe,] Margaret thought as she retreated back into the house, [with time, patience, and enough baked goods to feed an army, I can find a way to connect with them. After all, Syux wasn’t built in a day, and neither is a family, really. Nim, human, or otherwise.]