Incubus Care Manual

I bought a handsome, aloof incubus online. But he wouldn't stop making that low humming sound, just standing there, staring at me in silence. His body was burning hot.

Worried he might be sick, I hurried to contact customer service.

After listening to my description, the person on the other end went quiet for a moment. Then they said, "Um... is it possible that your incubus isn't sick—he's just starving, maybe wanting to kiss you, or... do something else?"

I spent a small fortune online to buy an incubus.

The product description said he was handsome, aloof, with an eight-pack and a slim, powerful waist.

Most importantly, he was capable.

That last trait got me. Without much hesitation, I paid immediately.

But right after I placed the order, customer service reached out to me.

Customer service: [Hi, you around?]

Me: [Uh, yeah, what's up?]

Customer service: [Well, the incubus you just ordered… He does look good, but he's a little cold-tempered. Also, he's reached maturity, so his stamina… can be a bit overwhelming. If you think that might be too much, I'd suggest you cancel and let us recommend a gentler model instead.]

Me: [No need. The cold and capable type is exactly what I'm looking for.]

After reading that, the customer service agent sent me a message that sounded oddly like a blessing.

Customer service: [Alright then. He'll arrive at your home on schedule. Have lots of fun!]

A few days later, a broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted incubus with a cool, detached expression knocked on my door.

The moment I saw him, I froze.

Everyone knows the incubus race is unnaturally beautiful, almost too perfect—but this one?

He looked like some elegant, distant heir who'd lost a bet and decided to sell his soul.

"Master."

His voice was low and even, brushing against my ear like a soft fur brush—light, teasing, impossible to ignore.

I waved my hands, flustered.

"D-don't call me that. Just call me Angela. Do you… have a name?"

"My name is Orion Skylar."

As he spoke, he lifted his tail toward me—a sleek tail with a little heart-shaped tip. Beautiful, really.

"According to protocol, you need to hold my tail to confirm receipt."

"Oh, okay."

I hurried to take it. It felt smooth and pliant in my palm, pleasantly soft—like some kind of high-end toy. I couldn't resist giving it a gentle squeeze.

"...Mm." Orion let out a low sound, half a groan.

Startled, I let go immediately, guilt rushing up my throat. "I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?"

He lowered his eyes, Adam's apple shifting slightly as a strange, rumbling sound came from his throat—deep and rhythmic, almost like a purr.

"No. I just wasn't prepared."

"Oh, good." Thinking he was tense from nerves, I tried to reassure him. "Don't be nervous, okay? You can rest first if you want. You'll need a lot of energy later."

"If you wish, we could start now."

"Now?" I hesitated. "Well… sure, I guess."

"Good."

That rumbling in his throat grew louder.

I reached for his arm gently. "Why are you still so tense? It's okay. Once you get used to it, you won't be nervous. Come with me."

He followed obediently into the kitchen.

Then he stopped short.

"The… kitchen?"

"Yeah, the kitchen. What's wrong? You'd rather start in the bedroom?" I asked, genuinely trying to be considerate.

His eyes darkened, heat flickering beneath the calm. "...The kitchen is fine."

I nodded, turned around, and under his burning gaze, placed a brand-new dishcloth into his hands.

"All right, Orion," I said gently. "I'll be counting on you, my capable incubus. You do know how to wash dishes, right?"

"...Wash… dishes?"