Meanwhile, Rong had retreated into a corner, hugging her knees as she buried her face, looking like a tragic little creature drained of all hope. The sight was so pitiful it almost tugged at Shia’s heartstrings.

'Did I push her too hard?'

He considered approaching her to offer some comforting words, to ease the blow of her failure.

But there was no need.

Rong suddenly lifted her head, her expression resolute.

"Even though I can’t do it now, I’ll work hard to overcome this!"

She had miraculously bounced back, as if her earlier defeat hadn’t affected her at all.

To Shia’s shock, she eagerly turned to Nia for advice.

"How did you do that just now?"

Her large, curious eyes sparkled as she held her notebook and pen, ready to jot down tips.

Shia froze mid-step, caught between disbelief and amusement.

'A socially anxious succubus asking advice from a clueless elf princess?'

He couldn’t help but worry Nia might lead her astray.

Rong, however, genuinely admired Nia’s ability to interact so intimately with others.

For her, even the thought of casual physical contact was enough to send shivers of terror through her.

In Rong’s eyes, Nia was practically a goddess of social confidence.

---

Yet even the steadfast princess couldn’t escape moments of despair.

That afternoon, the training hall echoed with the sounds of sparring, accompanied by the shouts of determined girls.

The practical combat class was relentless, a series of matches designed to push everyone to their limits.

Rong sat on the ground, her hair drenched in sweat as she panted heavily.

She had lost again—badly.

No matter how hard she trained, she couldn’t match the effortless achievements of her peers.

Unlike the others, who had clear career paths and inherent strengths, Rong’s progress felt painfully slow, no matter how much effort she poured in.

The limitations of her succubus heritage loomed over her like an insurmountable wall.

Her beauty masked her struggles, but the natural weakness of her kind—low magical reserves, frail physiques, and a lack of innate aptitude—was a constant obstacle.

As she watched others bask in the glow of their teacher’s praise, her confidence faltered.

---

Later that night, under the pale moonlight...

Rong stood on the rooftop, her slender figure clad in a flowing white dress.

The wind teased the fabric as she gazed at the luminous moon, her thoughts heavy with melancholy.

The failures of the afternoon haunted her, and a quiet sigh escaped her lips, lingering in the cool night air.

She had come to the prestigious Seven Shields Academy in search of answers, hoping to carve a new path for her kind.

But her efforts had yielded nothing but harsh truths and despair.

The realization that there was no alternate career path for succubi weighed heavily on her heart.

Lost in her sorrow, Rong didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until a soft, warm blanket was draped over her shoulders.

She turned her head and found Shia standing beside her.

"You’ll catch a cold dressed like that," he said casually.

He didn’t comment on her obvious sadness, nor did he pry into her thoughts.

This quiet act of kindness left Rong deeply touched.

If Shia had tried to console her directly, his words might have only reopened her wounds. But his silent support felt like genuine respect for her feelings.

'How… sly of him.'

Even the most resilient girl couldn’t help but show her vulnerable side in the presence of someone so reliable.

"Shia…"

"Yeah?"

"Can I lean on your shoulder for a bit?"

Shia didn’t reply with words. He simply shifted closer, silently inviting her to rest against him.

'Lean away.'

Rong hesitated briefly before nestling against his shoulder.

Shia’s faint scent was comforting, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold night.

His broad, sturdy frame felt like a safe harbor for her storm-tossed soul.

For so long, she had borne her struggles alone, trying to remain strong. But at her core, she was still a young girl, vulnerable and in need of solace.

---

She finally began to speak, her voice soft yet burdened with emotion.

"I know the path I’ve chosen is a difficult one, filled with thorns and obstacles."

"But I didn’t expect it to be this hard."

"The limitations of the succubus race are just… too great. Weak bodies, low magical reserves, and none of the insight humans have."

"I’ve searched so long, tried so hard, but there’s no career suited for us."

"All we have is this face—this beauty that brings nothing but ruin. Nothing else."

"It’s as if we’re born only to drown in lust and sin. Our race feels cursed by the gods, abandoned with no hope or future."

Her voice trembled, her long-suppressed frustrations and sorrows spilling out into the quiet night.

Though she spoke calmly, her words carried the weight of years of pain and disillusionment.

The injustice of her kind’s fate burned within her, but the unyielding reality left her feeling powerless.

'Why?'

'Why must succubi bear this burden?'

Other races had their strengths—demons with immense power, humans with their ingenuity, elves with their empathy and connection to nature.

Succubi, in contrast, were weak and fragile. Their beauty, a double-edged sword, only condemned them to a life of captivity and exploitation.

If this beauty came at such a cost, it wasn’t worth having.

---

As Rong poured out her feelings, Shia listened quietly.

Finally, he spoke, his tone steady and resolute.

"If there’s no career path for you, then why not create one yourself?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com