I Took A Succubus's First Time-Chapter 168: I Love You

"You little shit…" he seethed. "Do you even know who I am? What I'm capable of!?"

Kouhei didn't flinch. "I don't need to know you," he said evenly. "I've already seen enough to understand what kind of person you are." His voice dropped slightly, taking on a sharper, darker edge. "Yuki-san will never look at you the way you want her to. That's why you're resorting to this—to force what will never be yours. It's pathetic."

The words struck deep, a direct blow to the man's pride. His entire face darkened with uncontained fury.

"You… what did you just say!?" he bellowed, his voice cracking with rage. "You'll regret that, you bastard!"

Without warning, he lunged forward, rolling up his sleeves as if to prove his threat. His eyes burned with violent intent, his arm pulling back, fist clenched tightly—

And then—

He vanished.

Kouhei's pupils constricted slightly. The attack was coming, but from where? If he did nothing, the punch would land, and dodging an invisible strike was near impossible without predicting the angle. For most, this situation would have been unavoidable.

But Kouhei had trained under Aria.

His senses sharpened in an instant. The air shifted, a barely perceptible ripple of movement. A vibration in the ground—subtle, but telling.

Then—

A rush of displaced air.

Kouhei moved.

He ducked, the unseen fist barely missing his face, the wind from the attack brushing against his cheek. But he wasn't finished.

His hand shot out, fingers grasping at empty air—

And then he caught something. Solid. An arm.

His grip tightened.

With a sharp pivot, he twisted his body, using the man's own momentum against him. His muscles coiled with controlled power as he lifted the invisible assailant off the ground—

And then—

BANG!

The sound of impact echoed through the space as the man's body slammed into the hard floor, a shockwave rippling through the ground upon contact. The force of the throw sent a violent jolt up his spine, his breath leaving him in a strangled gasp.

"Ughhh!?"

The moment his body crashed into the ground, his invisibility flickered—

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Then failed completely.

Now sprawled out in plain sight, his expression twisted in disbelief, the weight of his own failure pressing down on him like a suffocating force.

Kouhei wasn't finished. His grip on the man's arm remained ironclad as he forcefully flipped him onto his stomach. With a swift, practiced motion, he wrenched the arm behind the man's back, twisting it at a brutal angle. It wasn't enough to break bone—but the excruciating strain sent a white-hot jolt of pain searing through the man's nerves.

"Aah—ahh! W-Wait! Wait! You're breaking my arm! You're breaking it!" The man's voice cracked as he struggled in vain, his body convulsing under the sheer agony.

Ignoring his pitiful screams, Kouhei straddled his back, his weight pressing down mercilessly, pinning him in place. Then, with deliberate slowness, he twisted the arm further, pushing it to the very brink of dislocation.

His expression darkened. His gaze sharpened into something cold and lethal.

"Now, you understand, don't you?" His voice was eerily calm, each syllable laced with an unsettling menace. "You are never to go near Yuki-san again. If I so much as hear a whisper that you're still after her… I'll do much worse than just twist your arm."

The threat was as chilling as it was absolute.

A violent shudder ran through the man's body. The raw malice in Kouhei's eyes felt like a blade pressing against his throat. He had never been looked at this way before—like he was nothing more than an insect waiting to be crushed.

"I—I understand! I get it already! Now, let me go!" he shrieked, his voice high with desperation.

"Promise me."

"W-What?" His breath hitched.

"Promise me you won't go near Yuki-san again."

"I—I promise! I swear it! Now let me go!"

Kouhei remained silent for a few agonizing seconds, studying the man beneath him. Then, as if deeming his answer satisfactory, he finally released him.

The moment Kouhei let go, the man scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he bolted away, his tail metaphorically tucked between his legs.

Kouhei exhaled slowly. He had no idea what kind of consequences would come from hurting a faction leader, but right now, he didn't care. None of that mattered. The only thing that did—was protecting Misuzu.

As the dust settled, Misuzu stood frozen in place. Her heartbeat slammed violently against her ribs, her breath coming in uneven gasps. A searing heat flooded her cheeks, spreading down to her very fingertips.

She had never seen anything like that before.

Kouhei turned toward her. His voice, though steady, carried a subtle concern. "Are you all right, Yuki-san?"

She knew he wasn't asking about physical injuries—after all, she hadn't been harmed. She had been protected. The warmth in his voice came from something else.

Misuzu pressed a trembling hand against her chest, as if trying to contain the overwhelming sensation surging within her.

Then, before she could even think—

"Okumura-kun… I love you."

The words left her lips in a whisper, soft yet resolute.

***

The drive home was steeped in silence.

Neither Kouhei nor Misuzu spoke a word, yet the tension between them was palpable. The weight of unspoken emotions filled the car, thick and suffocating. Their faces, still tinged with deep shades of crimson, betrayed everything their lips refused to say.

The driver stole glances at them through the rearview mirror, confusion flickering in her eyes. There was a shift—something had undeniably changed between them. The air felt… different.

What exactly had happened?

She couldn't quite pinpoint it, but the difference was unmistakable.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally pulled up to the Saionji mansion.

Kouhei hesitated for a moment before stepping out. His gaze flickered toward Misuzu, uncertainty warring with something else in his expression.

With a barely audible "Goodbye," he quickly turned on his heel, his face burning red.

Misuzu mirrored his hesitation, her fingers clenching around the fabric of her skirt as she softly echoed his farewell.

The driver watched the entire exchange in mild disbelief before finally pulling away from the mansion.

For a while, silence hung between them. Then, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, the driver spoke.

"Did something happen between you two?" Her voice was laced with suspicion. "The atmosphere between you feels… different. It's not the same as yesterday."

Misuzu didn't meet her gaze. Instead, she turned toward the window, watching as the world outside blurred past.

"Nothing, really," she murmured. "I just realized something about myself."

The driver narrowed her eyes but ultimately relented with a small shrug. "I see… well, if that's what you say, I'll believe it."

Misuzu wasn't lying.

She had indeed realized something.

For the first time in her life—she had fallen in love.

The feeling was intoxicating.

It sent warmth blooming in her chest, setting her nerves alight with an unfamiliar yet exhilarating sensation.

And yet… it was strange.

She had confessed her feelings to him.

Now what?

As she gazed out the window, her reflection stared back at her—cheeks flushed, eyes alight with something new, something thrilling.

Then, suddenly—

Her phone rang.

The sharp chime cut through the heavy silence.

Misuzu blinked, snapping out of her daze. With practiced ease, she reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled out her phone.

Her heart stuttered slightly when she saw the name on the screen.

Chihiro.

For a brief moment, she hesitated.

Then, exhaling softly, she accepted the call.

"Hello?"

A low chuckle greeted her on the other end.

"Looks like you've taken good care of my brother, Misuzu," Chihiro's voice was laced with amusement. "He just came running back to me—crying that you were 'cheating' on him."

Misuzu's brows knitted together in irritation. "I was never in a relationship with your brother, Chihiro. So whatever he's saying—it has nothing to do with me."

"Mm, I don't really care about my brother," Chihiro mused. Then, her voice dipped—becoming something sharper, something far more intrigued.

"But what does interest me… is the Child of Anti-Prophecy."