Chapter 6: The Succubus
No one knew exactly what the Whisperers were.They were described as unseen, yet omnipresent.And no one believed they truly existed.
The Church declared them heretical nonsense. Mothers used the terrifying tale to scare naughty, crying children.
Funis had always believed that too. She stared into Chescia’s eyes.
“Don’t try to fool me with bedtime stories. Witches like you rarely say anything true.”
“I’m simply stating the facts. Whether you believe them is up to you,” Chescia replied, unaffected by the girl’s retort. “Besides, you’re a witch now too—one of us.”
“Mm…” Funis fell silent.
She wanted to argue that even if she’d become a witch, her character hadn’t become twisted or evil. But saying that would contradict her earlier claims. Funis had no rebuttal—she could only sulk in frustration.
“The first witch could directly communicate with the Whisperers. She never stopped dreaming, babbling, drawing—leaving behind countless manuscripts and diagrams,” Chescia said as she glanced at Funis’s awkward expression and continued her explanation.
“Among them was the original manuscript of the Witch Codex, and a detailed surgical procedure for bodily reconstruction.”
“The subject had to be a young, undeveloped girl. Hallucinogenic herbs and poisonous worms were inserted into the tender flesh. After a bloody dissection, came seven days of agony.”
Funis suddenly remembered the terrifying images from her dreams.
The woman before her had done those same things to her.
“T-That’s…”
The girl’s petite body began trembling uncontrollably.
She was afraid.
“That is how a new witch is born. Bloody and cruel. Usually forced, out of desperation, or for other reasons.” Chescia reached for Funis’s shaking hand.
“Smack!”
A crisp, loud sound.
“Stay away from me!” Funis screamed.
She slapped Chescia’s hand away, eyes filled with horror and revulsion. Even her pale violet pupils trembled.
The air froze for several seconds.
A red mark appeared on Chescia’s unguarded hand. Her skin, too, was delicate.
Her wine-red eyes flickered first with surprise—Then twisted with wild pleasure.
The red deepened.
Blood red.
That outstretched hand suddenly grabbed the front of Funis’s nightgown.
She was yanked upward and thrown back down.
The powerless girl fell like a ragdoll, sobbing softly.
Rip.
The thin, silken nightgown shredded under Chescia’s force.
Only a few scraps remained clinging to Funis’s body.
Her fair, gleaming skin was now exposed in the dim candlelight.
Fragile.
There was no word more fitting for Funis now.
Her silver hair, radiant as a starry river, spilled across the bed like moonlight.
Her violet eyes shimmered with tears, darting and dodging.
Her arms fumbled to hide her exposed, delicate form but didn’t know where to cover.
Dazzling.
But also weak.
She had provoked Chescia again.
This was the true Blood Witch—Grinning at the corners of her lips and eyes, Thrilled by violence, intoxicated by destruction.
She was no longer the usual Chescia.
The look she gave Funis held no affection.
Only greed.
Desire.
Hunger.
Pure lust.
Still wearing her leather shoes, eyes burning red, Chescia climbed onto the bed without hesitation. She spread her legs and pinned the crying glass doll beneath her.
The little white rabbit had angered the big bad wolf. And so, it would be punished.
Even a four-year-old knew that.
“I-I’m sorry…”
Funis couldn’t look into Chescia’s eyes.
She turned her head in fear, hiding behind her arm.
The girl who had just moments ago acted tough now only begged and apologized.
Perhaps the pride of her former male self still lingered, But it was clear she wouldn’t learn her lesson anytime soon.
But—The expected violation or torment never came.
The candle flame was still.
Funis slowly lowered her arm and peeked at Chescia—Only to see that the red glow in her eyes had faded.
But the intense heat of desire still remained. Her hazy gaze licked across Funis’s smooth skin, Lingering on every inch, not letting a single spot escape.
“If you’re that eager, then let’s begin the training now. No objections, right?”
Chescia gently brushed the tattered silk remnants from the girl’s pale body.
Funis trembled, speechless.
But then Chescia unexpectedly sighed.
“Aren’t you at all curious why you haven’t heard any whispers or wailing, despite being a witch?”
“Whispers? Wailing?” The girl couldn’t keep up.
But Funis did remember those words.
Deeply.
The Temperance Court didn’t always execute witches immediately. Many insane women were imprisoned. As an Enforcer, Sera Fred sometimes had to interrogate them.
Though it rarely worked.
They always muttered about voices whispering beside their ears—Sharp, jarring cries.
They ignored questions. Communication was impossible.
No guards wanted to watch over witches.
Spending even one minute near those lunatics was torment.
The bishops said it was a demonic curse.
That the women were unclean and paying the price.
But as Chescia said—It had already been three days since Funis became a witch, And she hadn’t heard a single strange voice.
“Listening to the whispers and cries is key to entering dream sleep. Witches are seen as a resource only because of their prophetic dreams,” Chescia said, gently brushing Funis’s cheek with her fingertip.
“But it’s also the very thing that drives them insane.
Whisperers don’t speak in ways humans can comprehend.
You were right about one thing: witches are all mad.
All witches go mad in the end.
It’s a hopeless, irreversible fate.”
“But you’re different—” Chescia smiled suddenly.
Her long fingers reached for Funis’s forehead—Right where her transparent horn emerged.
“Hnngh♡~!?”
A soft moan burst from Funis’s lips.
Her waist arched into an exaggerated curve. If Chescia hadn’t been holding her down, She would have bounced right off the bed.
It felt nothing like touching her own horns. Funis couldn’t imagine how sensitive they were—Just a single light touch brought her more intense pleasure than anything she had ever experienced as a man.
Her body stiffened and shook for several seconds. Her thoughts unraveled into chaos, her mind blank.
Before she even had time to relax, She heard Chescia’s mischievous, amused whisper:
“Besides using a special herbal formula during the surgery, I also cast a secret spell passed down by the succubus race…to give you a body like mine.”
Succubus?
Funis’s foggy mind struggled to process it, But she vaguely remembered the word from shady magazines on street stalls—Creatures of allure, hypnosis, emotional predation. Masters of the psyche.And supposedly resistant to the whisperers’ lures.
But no one had ever told her…that a succubus’s body was this lewd.