Reborn as a Succubus: Time To Live My Best Life!

{Isabella}

Isabella sat perfectly still as the make-up artist applied the finishing touches to her face. The brush tickled her skin, but she resisted the urge to twitch.@@novelbin@@

It was an advantage to being a sorceress that a lot of people probably didn't think about often, but years of casting spells had made Isabella's ability to control her own body sharp and strong.

Beside her, a human dancer was pacing back and forth, muttering the steps under her breath. Her face was pale, and Isabella could practically smell the nervous sweat coming off her.

"Oh gods, oh gods," the girl whimpered. "What if I mess up? What if I trip? What if-"

Isabella rolled her eyes.

"Honey, relax. It's just a dance."

The girl turned to her, eyes wide.

"How can you be so calm? D-Do you know who's out there? Every single name is bound to show up in history books in 15 years! This is the biggest night of my life!"

Isabella couldn't help but laugh.

"Please. I'm aiming to be the strongest mage in the world, sweetheart. This is just a fun little detour as far as I'm concerned."

She got a lot of weird looks for that statement. Clearly, the others were not in the same situation.

The make-up artist finished with a flourish.

"There you go, sweetie. You're all set."

Isabella examined her reflection in the mirror in front of her, a slow grin spreading across her face. Her eyes were rimmed with shimmering gold, making the green of her irises pop. Her lips were painted a deep, seductive red.

[Damn, I look good. Wish Melisa could see me right now.]

A stage manager appeared, clapping his hands for attention.

"Alright, ladies! Places, please. The First Swing begins in two minutes!"

Isabella stood, stretching languidly. She could feel the eyes of several dancers on her. There was some hostility, confidence did have a tendency of making people jealous after all, but also a lot of admiration.

As she took her place behind the curtain, Isabella ran through the choreography in her mind.

She'd practiced relentlessly back home, often with Kimiko "helping" her perfect her moves. Those sessions had usually ended up horizontal, but hey, practice was practice, right?

[Good thing I'm a damn genius~]

The curtain began to rise, and Isabella felt a thrill of excitement run through her. The music started, a pulsing, sensual beat that she felt in her very bones.

[Showtime,] she thought, stepping out onto the stage.

The dance was a blur of movement and sensation.

Isabella quickly lost herself in the rhythm, her body moving with fluid grace. She could feel the heat of the audience's gaze, hear their gasps and murmurs of appreciation.

And then, here, at the beginning of the routine, she saw her.

Melisa stood near the front of the crowd, her crimson eyes wide with wonder.

And, as they reached the free-form part of the First Swing where the dancers could do what they wanted for about half a minute before falling back into the choreography, Isabella locked eyes with Melisa.

The rest of the world seemed to fade away as Isabella danced, every movement now dedicated to the beautiful nim girl watching her.

She swayed her hips, ran her hands along her body, and flicked her tail in ways she knew would drive Melisa wild. To anyone else, it might have looked like she was simply caught up in the performance. But Isabella knew that Melisa would understand the message behind every gesture.

[Hopefully, I can give you a closer look at these moves later, Mel~]

The dance ended all too soon, the final notes fading away as the dancers struck their finishing poses.

The audience erupted into applause, but Isabella barely heard it. She was too busy patting herself on the back internally.

As they filed off stage, Isabella's fellow dancers were a mess of giggles, excited chatter, and residual nerves.

Isabella moved among them like a queen holding court.

She spotted the nervous human girl from earlier, now flushed with the thrill of performance. With a predatory grin, Isabella slid up behind her, wrapping her arms around the girl's waist.

"See? Easy, right?" Isabella purred into her ear, feeling the girl shiver against her. "We were all absolutely mesmerizing out there."

The other dancers crowded around, showering Isabella with compliments.

"That was incredible!"

"How did you move like that? It was like you were floating!"

"You have to teach us some of those moves!"

Isabella's grin widened as she let her hands wander lower on the human girl's body.

"Oh, I could show you all sorts of things," she said. "I-"

Some nobles wandered into the backstage area.

Raven, recognizing what was happening, stepped up.

"Anyone who wants to request a private dance with that kitsune over there," she pointed at Isabella, "come with me."

And, she walked off to the side.

Literally every single one of the nobles went with her.

"... Or not," Isabella kissed the girl's cheek. "Looks like I'm going to be a bit busy~"

---

{Armia}

Armia sat at the edge of the ballroom, her golden scales running down her arms glimmering in the soft light.

She watched as Melisa disappeared into a side corridor with a silver-furred kitsune noblewoman, their heads bent close together.

[Well, at least someone's having a good time,] Armia thought, with a bit of envy in her chest.

She glanced down at her own hands, clasped tightly in her lap. Despite the minutes that had passed, she hadn't managed to strike up a single conversation.

[Come on, Armia. You came here to be a lady, didn't you? Act like one.]

Taking a deep breath, Armia rose to her feet. She smoothed down her gown, adjusted her posture, and put on her most refined expression.

[You can do this. Just... be graceful. Elegant. Chin up, shoulders back, glide don't stomp,] she recited mentally, making her way towards a nearby table of chattering nobles. [You've got this, Armia.

You're a darian, but you're also a lady. Show them what that means. Everything you've practiced.]

With measured steps, she approached a nearby table where a group of human nobles were engaged in animated discussion.

As she drew near, their conversation died down, all eyes turning to her.

"Good evening," Armia said, her voice carefully modulated. "I couldn't help but overhear your fascinating discussion. Might I join you?"

The nobles exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and discomfort.

"I... we were just leaving, actually," one woman said, not quite meeting Armia's eyes.

The group hurriedly dispersed, leaving Armia standing alone, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

[That went wonderfully, huh?]

Feeling the sting of rejection, Armia retreated to a nearby balcony.

The cool night air was a welcome relief after the stuffy ballroom. She leaned against the railing, looking out over the glittering city below.

[Maybe I don't belong here after all,] she thought, her tail drooping. [Maybe I'm just kidding myself.]

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

Armia whirled around, startled by the gruff voice. A human man stood in the doorway, his face weathered and scarred. Despite his formal attire, he carried himself with a distinctly military bearing.

"A darian at a royal gala," the man continued, eyeing her curiously. "Now that's not something you see every day. You wouldn't happen to be a spy, would you?"

Armia bristled, her scales flaring slightly.

"I most certainly am not! I was invited, thank you very much."

The man chuckled, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Easy there, scale-skin. I meant no offense. Though I'd wager you'd be having a better time if you were a spy. At least then you'd have something to do besides sulk on balconies."

Armia looked away.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's been there," the man replied, stepping out onto the balcony. He offered her a glass of wine. "Name's Neal. General Neal Ironheart, to be precise."

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Armia accepted the glass gratefully.

"Armia Duskscale. It's a pleasure to meet you, General."

"Please, just Neal. I get enough 'General' during the day." He leaned against the railing beside her. "So, Armia Duskscale, what brings a young darian lady to this nest of vipers?"

Armia sipped her wine, considering her answer.

"I was invited."

"By?"

"My friend," Armia quickly replied. "Melisa Blackflame. The nim mage."

By the way his eyes widened, it was clear he knew of who Armia spoke.

That said, he didn't ask about her at all.

Neal just nodded thoughtfully.

"And, how's the night treated you?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Armia sighed. "I can't seem to get anyone to talk to me for more than two seconds."

"Ah, well, that's just because you're going about it all wrong," Neal said, a twinkle in his eye. "These nobles, they're not interested in refinement and culture. They want gossip, intrigue, a bit of danger. You want to fit in? Give them what they want."

Armia frowned.

"I'm not terribly used to participating in that."

Neal shrugged.

"How about we do a bit of practice, then?" He asked.

Armia shrugged back at him.

"Whatever..."

[This isn't exactly what I had in mind,] she thought, [but I suppose it's better than sulking on my own... Barely.]