I'm in Love with the Villainess!-Chapter 214: Actual Bonding...?

We headed for the mansion’s living room, which sat just behind the foyer we entered through. It wasn’t all that furnished—at least, not by mansion standards—but compared to a normal house, it was huge.

A sofa sat in the center of the room. Bookshelves lined the walls around it, with another shelf directly behind us, tucked between the two doors that led back to the foyer.

Facing the sofa was a fireplace, and beyond it, tall glass panes looked out over the still-barren courtyard.

Luckily, it started raining just as we arrived, turning what would’ve been a dull view into something quietly relaxing.

We settled onto the sofa.

Evelina insisted on sitting sideways on my lap, her arms looped around my neck as if I were the only thing keeping her grounded. And to be honest, I likely did.

[Vital Rinse]

She breathed in the scent of my skin and slowly relaxed, her thoughts clearing as the spell smoothed out the spikes in her emotions.

Like I said...

Succubus magic really is unfairly practical compared to normal attunements.

"Well... don’t just stare," she muttered.

Evelina pouted and nipped at my neck as she kept trying to recover her energy. She wasn’t exaggerating either; on the way to the living room she’d told me she felt strangely drained.

And I couldn’t help but guess at the cause.

Cursed energy.

That had to be it.

And then—

[The Flames Have Absorbed A Familiar Element]

[Leveling Up Black Flames]

[New Spells Unlocked]

My system window popped up. I guess my earlier theory had been right: just being exposed to the element a subtype was made from was enough to level it up on its own. In this case, that element was black flames.

Even in the middle of a crisis, Evelina still somehow managed to be productive.

Sigh...

If only everyone could be like her.

Chk!

"Ow!"

A sharp sting shot through my neck, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glanced down to see a thin line of blood trailing from my skin to my shirt. The culprit was obvious—Evelina, with a crimson smear glistening on her lips.

"Well...?"

"Alright, you don’t have to bite me," I said.

"You like it anyway..."

Her voice was softer than usual. She still wasn’t over what had happened earlier; if anything, she seemed embarrassed I’d seen that side of her. Even now, I could feel a faint thread of cursed energy moving through her.

But this time, it was stable.

Not the kind of thing that would probably shatter more furniture.

"Let’s see... I should start with—agh!"

Another sharp bite cut across my neck, followed by another warm line of blood. Evelina really wasn’t holding back. I couldn’t tell if this was just her being herself or her succubus instincts pushing her on.

Either way, as long as it helped steady her, I didn’t mind.

"Start with food..."

Evelina’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"Well, food it is," I said.

*** Hours later

We ended up talking about everything—food, stupid childhood stories, favorite snacks, places we’d been and places we still wanted to see. I wasn’t the only one opening up, either; she matched me story for story. I liked to think I already knew her pretty well, but there were still these little blank spots the novel had never bothered to fill in.

At some point, without us really meaning to, the conversation drifted to my past life.

And, of course, to Trish—the other soul currently crammed into her body.

Evelina already knew a lot about my old world from Trish’s memories, but even so, she wanted to hear it directly from me.

Even if Trish was, technically, still her.

It was still confusing, even now. And it was something I still hadn’t forgiven Beelzebub for.

And while I didn’t want to project my own feelings onto her. I couldn’t shake the sense that Evelina wanted to change that someday, too.

"Seriously... your favorite is overcooked meat? Like, burnt?" Evelina asked, eyeing me with exaggerated disgust.

"Yeah. I guess it just grew on me."

And it really did.

When I was just starting out as an assassin, most of what I ate was beans, other canned stuff, or, if I was feeling a little more extravagant...

Dried, overcooked steak shoved into my pocket.

It doesn’t exactly taste great now that I’m actually living a decent life, but getting rid of an acquired taste like that is almost impossible.

"I tolerate a lot about you, but I think that crosses the line," she said, only half-serious.

"Out of everything, that’s what makes you think I’ve crossed a line?"

"Medium rare is clearly the superior choice."

"It’s not like I had easy access to that in the past."

"Yeah, but that’s in the past. I bet every steak you’ve had since you got here has been medium rare."

"Yeah, but—"

"Oh, shut it. You’re just blinded by nostalgia. And here I thought you’d only be sentimental about me, not a piece of jerky."

I leaned back, pretending to think deeply, one hand resting behind my head.

"Alright, alright," I said, fighting a smile. "Maybe I’m attached to a few things besides you. Burnt meat just happens to be one of them."

Evelina tilted her head, unimpressed. "Attached? That’s not attachment, it’s more like... bad taste."

"It built character," I said. "Or at least, it built something. You should try it sometime. Really makes you appreciate normal food."

Her nose wrinkled. "I’d rather not."

"Well, that’s fine with me, your mouth only deserves the best, not burnt food."

Her arms tightened around my neck, pulling me in a little closer. The rain kept tapping against the glass, steady and dull, filling the space between us with something that almost felt ordinary.

"You know," she murmured, her voice quieter now, "I still can’t believe I almost cried earlier. Over your favorite food of all things."

"It wasn’t just the food," I said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "You’re supposed to be untouchable. Then suddenly you’re... not."

"Yeah, well," she muttered, looking away, "I don’t like feeling unprepared. I’ve spent years planning everything, keeping it all under control, and then you just—"

"Show up and ruin your script?" I said, tightening my hold on her.

"Something like that. You’re never what I expect."

She let out a soft breath that eased some of the weight in the room. For a while, we just sat there with the rain, continuing to trade small stories and half-finished jokes, letting the silence between them sit without feeling heavy.

Eventually, she tipped her head back to look up at me, tracing a slow line down my chest with one finger.

"So," she said, "now that I calmed down and know what you like, how about we finish dinner properly?"

"You’re going to cook burnt steak for me?" I asked.

She settled against me again, more relaxed than before.

"Well... for the sake of your nostalgia, but I’ll still try to turn that into something that actually tastes like food."