As soon as I stepped into the inn, a wave of unnatural cold shot through my spine, drilling straight down to my tailbone. It was a deep, internal chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
I suddenly felt taller, my joints popping softly as my posture straightened. A sharp, piercing sensation erupted from my scalp, followed by a strange, solid weight. My fingers tingled and stretched, growing longer and more slender. I felt different, alien in my own skin.
But I wasn't the only one changing. When I turned to look at Samael, who was striding into the empty club with his usual stern gaze, I saw it. Dark, curved horns now spiraled from his temples.
His fingers were longer, tipped with nails that looked more like sharpened obsidian. Ancient, glowing words crawled over his skin like living tattoos, their faint, crimson light pulsing with each step he took.
My eyes quickly found a large, ornate mirror in the lobby. I barely held back a scream. There were horns on my head too, small and delicate but undeniably there.
My eyes, which had been a plain brown, were now a dark, unsettling shade of pink, like bruised roses. A long, slender tail, almost like a cat's, twitched and dangled behind me, moving with a mind of its own. I looked different... like a monster, like a—
"Succubus." Samael's deep voice cut through my panic as he stood behind me, his newly transformed, tall frame utterly intimidating my slender one.
"What?" I gasped, whirling to face him.
"You're a succubus, Willow Grace. You've been selected by the Corrupter himself."
I stared, my mind struggling to catch up. "Selected for what?"
"Ask your system for your stats," he said, as if he were telling me to check the time.
"How do I do that?"
He just shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I cleared my throat, feeling stupid. "System, show me my stats."
A vibrant, pink holographic screen buzzed to life right in front of my face. The sudden light and information threw me off balance for a second, and I stumbled back, completely taken aback by the shock of it.
[HOMEWRECKING SYSTEM STATS: WILLOW GRACE (HOST #30)]
[Designation: The Reborn One
System Affiliation: Corrupter's Legion – Division of Desire.
Status: Active (Probationary Succubus)
Level: 1 — Jezebel's Den Initiate
Location: Jezebel's Den (Primary Field Station)]
[Objective:
Seduce. Manipulate. Corrupt. Collect.
Every soul you touch must draw closer to sin — your success determines ascension.]
[Rank Progression:
Level 1 – Jezebel's Den Initiate: Seductive training ground. Serve, observe, tempt.
Level 2 – Temptress: First real missions begin. You are granted a "target list."
Level 3 – Collector: Capable of claiming souls directly.
Level 4 – Mistress of Vice: Independent assignments.
Level 5 – Corrupter's Chosen: Command others, lead a circle of your own.
Level 6— Titan: Serve as the Corrupter's right-hand maid during the apocalypse.]
[Current Mission:
Hunt and kill a soul to fulfill Tier-1 Seduction Quota (5 successful temptations).
Failure in any mission resets progress and demotes host down the rankings.]
[Penalty for Failure:Any punishment decided by the Corrupter.]
[ Rival Ranking (Top Succubi):
1. Lilith — The Blood Muse
2. Astra — The Silver Tongue
3. Fedora — The Silent Flame
[Base Attributes (Initial Stats):
Charm: 67 / 100
Deception: 52 / 100
Control (Emotional Influence): 49 / 100
Combat Instinct: 41 / 100
Lust Energy: 73 / 100
Corruption Rate: 3.5%]
[System Note:
Rise, Willow Grace. The Corrupter's Den feeds on desire. Tempt them, break them, own them. Fail me once, and you will return to dust."]**
"What the actual f-ck?" I cursed as the screen disappeared. This is crazy. It's sick, even. I knew the supernatural existed in whispers and stories, I just never realized it was this organized, this serious.
"Your primary target is the kind you last killed, Willow Grace," Samael said, stepping closer.
"Men?"
"Cheating men." He gave a casual shrug. "This club is built specifically for them. Their souls come here at night, and you, alongside thirty other succubi, will collect them for the Corrupter." He sighed and started heading towards a dark, polished door that I suspected was his office, so I followed him. "Isn't it unfair, Willow Grace? What the Creator did? He preaches love but cast you off into hell the second you defended yourself."
A hot stir of rage buzzed through me. He was right. My child wasn't even spared. I wasn't given another chance, just condemned.
"This is why the Corrupter is giving you another chance. We're working on a way to dismantle the Creator's systems once and for all. All we need is your help."
"My help?"
"Yes, your help." He said as he entered an elevator. This place is huge, I made a mental note to check it out later. "The real Willow Grace was a nineteen-year-old literature student and star ice skater at Stanbury University. She died after being poisoned by her family. This happened after her professor, Vittorio Stone, shared her nude photos publicly."
"What?"
"Her own sister sent those photos to him. You can imagine the outrage." The elevator stopped with a soft ding and he walked out, me following right behind. He slid a keycard against a lush, mahogany door that opened directly into a sky-high office with a panoramic view of a city I didn't recognize. "Willow Grace had attempted suicide, but the Creator 'saved' her. You know what He does. He intends to make sure she suffers more, so she can eventually break and run to Him, as always. The family eventually finished the job; they poisoned her. She died at the rink today, which allowed us to make the transfer."
"Where is she now.. her soul?"
He smiled and sat on a sleek leather couch, taking off his suit jacket. "It's indefinite, only the Creator knows." He chuckled at the irony. "We want to give you another chance, Willow Grace. You'll have new identities to stay hidden and unsuspecting, and you have to take your missions seriously or you'll risk being sent back to the general population of hell."
"I already got that part," I cleared my throat. "And I don't know if you read my horrible biography, but I quit stripping."
"Because you felt like quitting would validate you, make you good enough for Sam Walters. And how did that turn out for you?"
"I... umm..." I had no comeback. He had me.
"We need the unloved, Willow Grace. Some people were just built that way. Love is a myth, a stupid theory. It makes you a fool, makes you weak, makes your actions useless. This is who you are chosen to be. You'll never find love... not in this world or the next. You know why? The Creator doesn't love you."
I blinked back hot tears as he chuckled and opened a polished cabinet to pull out a bottle of dark wine. Sam had said the same thing to me, almost word for word. Did he know some cosmic truth? He was right. I was born to a crackhead, raised in an abusive home, got married at nineteen hoping to be responsible, but my then-husband sold me to a strip club for a box of cigarettes. Then I died at twenty-eight, murdered by the man I was pregnant for. I was the living, walking interpretation of miserable.
This was my life now, and I was going to accept it. I was going to take my revenge on all of them.
"How do I activate tier one?"
"Perfect," Samael grinned, a flash of genuine pleasure. "Your system will share the details with you. Report here three times a week for your shifts at 12 am. Failure to comply will cause me to punish you, Willow Grace." His eyes went darker, the promise in them unmistakable.
"And where do I stay for the rest of the week?"
"You'll continue embodying the real Willow Grace. She's the third daughter of some conglomerate family. You have her life now."
"Ahh.." I nodded, the pieces falling into a bizarre, twisted picture. "Am I allowed to umm... have encounters with men that aren't targets?"
A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips. "If you want sex, Willow Grace, you can always come to me."
My cheeks flushed at the bluntness of his tone, but I didn't respond. I just cleared my throat, turned, and stumbled out of the office after giving a quick, awkward bow. I let out a long, shaky sigh as soon as the door closed behind me. That was entirely unexpected.
[Target to Activate Tier One uploaded!] The system dinged cheerfully in my mind.
[Vittorio Stone. Sports professor at Stanbury University.]