Chapter 179. Trivial

Succubi Chapter 179. Trivial 

I blinked.

“That was supposed to make you sound less concerning?”

She shrugged. “They’ll live.”

I was about to reply, msomething sarcastic, probably, but my gaze snagged on her arm.

There.

A bruise blooming just under her sleeve. Not bleeding. Not dramatic.

But wrong.

Subtle.

And she was pretending it didn’t exist.

“You aren’t going to the infirmary for that?” I asked quietly.

She followed my gaze, glanced at the mark like it was a stain on a shirt.

“Nah,” she said. “Just trivial. Sera will heal me later.”

Trivial.

The word sat wrong in my chest.

I didn’t like how easily she dismissed it.

“I can help you,” I said.

She blinked again.

Then she laughed softly. “You?”

I didn’t answer.

I stepped closer.

Just one step.

And activated it.

[Dark Healing Activated.]

[Infusing dark energy into target.]

[HP Restoration Initiated.]

Black-violet energy coiled around my hand like smoke pulled by gravity. It didn’t look holy. It didn’t look gentle.

It looked dangerous.

But when I placed my palm over the bruised skin, the energy softened.

Not violent.

Not consuming.

Just warm.

It seeped into her arm slowly, carefully, like ink dissolving into water.

Her breath caught.

She didn’t say anything.

Her shoulders tensed first.

Then relaxed.

I felt it too, the small shift in her mana flow, the bruised tissue knitting back together, the strain dissolving.

It wasn’t flashy.

It wasn’t explosive.

Just… steady.

A quiet correction.

The bruise faded.

Skin smooth again.

I pulled my hand back.

“Great,” I muttered lightly, trying to shrug it off. “Good to have this kind of skill.”

Rivy stared at her arm.

Flexed her fingers.

Then looked at me.

Her cheeks were slightly pink.

Not dramatic. Not obvious.

But there.

She didn’t say thank you.

Didn’t tease.

Just held my gaze a fraction too long.

And then…

The staff member returned.

Perfect timing.

He looked at Rivy first, holding up a neatly folded uniform.

“Here. Replacement set.”

Then he squinted at her.

“And you,” he added flatly, “should stop asking for new uniforms every month.”

I turned slowly.

“Every month?” I repeated.

Rivy immediately straightened. “Hey! Not my fault. That’s normal for a Titan.”

The staff deadpanned so hard I swear the air pressure dropped.

“No,” he said calmly. “That is not normal for a Titan.”

I felt my lips twitch.

She glared at him like she was considering proving his statement wrong through physical demonstration.

Then his eyes shifted to me.

And his expression changed.

He looked… offended.

“And you!” he snapped.

I blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You need to speak of yourself. You are… Arcana, right?”

I nodded slowly.

He gestured dramatically at my ruined state.

“Then why does your uniform look worse than a Valor or Titan student? Moreover, you are a semester one!”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“Don’t complain to me,” I said flatly. “My instructor did this.”

He froze.

“Elise?”

I nodded.

He tched loudly.

“Letter?”

I handed it over without argument.

He took it, muttering something about “children these days” and “budget allocations,” then walked to his desk and began typing aggressively.

The old computer wheezed like it was personally insulted.

He searched my name.

Checked my size.

His eyes flicked to the screen.

Then to me.

Then back to the screen.

A pause.

He adjusted his glasses.

Then muttered, “Wait here.”

And left.

Silence settled.

Rivy was still holding her folded uniform but not putting it on yet.

She glanced at me sideways.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

“For your arm?”

She nodded.

I shrugged.

“I don’t like people pretending injuries are trivial.”

It came out more honest than I meant.

She studied me.

Longer this time.

Not playful.

Not teasing.

Just assessing.

“You’re weird,” she concluded.

I huffed softly. “Thanks.”

“No,” she said. “Not in a bad way.”

That made something shift in my chest.

Small.

Quiet.

Uncomfortable.

I leaned back against the wall, arms crossed loosely, waiting for my new uniform.

Silence settled.

Not awkward.

Just… suspended.

Rivy stood a few steps away. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The academy corridor outside echoed faintly with distant footsteps and muffled chatter.

My brain went quiet.

Like someone had unplugged the cable.

Just static.

I stared at the wall.

Then at the floor.

Then… against my will, at her again.

She was still there.

Why was she still there?

My brain rebooted.

Slowly.

Like an old machine wheezing back to life.

“…Why are you still here?” I asked.

The words slipped out before I could filter them.

She blinked at me. “Huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to change your clothes?”

She looked down at herself.

Then back at me.

“…Uh. Yeah.”

A beat.

“Bye then.”

And she dashed.

Actually dashed.

Like she suddenly remembered dignity existed.

I watched her disappear around the corner, boots echoing against the polished floor.

And for a second, I just stood there.

Processing.

The staff returned, holding the folded Arcana uniform like it was sacred scripture.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t blink.

He handed it to me with a glare that translated clearly into: ‘You better not mess this up again’.

I grinned.

Full teeth.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t respond.

He just gave me that exhausted adult stare reserved for students who generate paperwork.

I took the uniform.

It felt heavier than the last one.

Crisper.

Untouched.

Untested.

The Arcana insignia stitched clean across the chest, silver thread catching the light.

Then I pivoted and dashed into the changing area.

The door shut behind me with a soft click.

Alone.

I peeled off the remaining scraps of my previous uniform, fabric falling to the bench like fallen flags after battle.

Bruises were fading.

Scratches almost gone.

[Passive Residual Regeneration Active.]

[Stamina: Stable.]

[Mana: 87%]

I exhaled slowly.

My reflection in the mirror stared back at me.

Messy hair.

Sharp eyes.

Skin still faintly marked by earlier impact.

Not embarrassed.

Not flustered.

Not shaken.

Just… alert.

Alive.

I ran a hand through my hair.

“…Get it together,” I muttered under my breath.

Then I pulled the new shirt on.

Fabric slid over skin smoothly.

Cool.

Structured.

The sleeves hugged my arms properly this time.

The collar sat right against my throat.

The pants fit perfectly, measured to my size down to the centimeter.

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