Do you like me?

You are just an average office worker.

Just the version you portray outside — clean shirt, tucked behind the desk, answering emails with enunciation and enough enthusiasm to not get yelled at by the manager. Basically, moving through your days with deadlines, lunch breaks, and the satisfaction of leaving on the clock.

Well…it's easy that way to tell people you're boring, nonchalant, whatever adjectives that make you socially invisible.

Because the alternative explanation is….you go home every night to your fiancée, your soon-to-be wife, who only you know that is a succubus that somehow is the least threatening and the least seductive girl/creature to exist, doesn't fit neatly into excruciating small talk by the coffee machine.

And more importantly, you're not entirely sure if she actually likes you.

Ok, it sounds really dumb, but just…just look.

It's 8pm, and you just arrived home after a tiring work day. The door clicks shut behind you softly, a kind reminder of the end of your day. Of course, it's anything but soft the moment you enter your own space. Hell, you don't even make it past the entryway before you feel it on your skin.

Her. Kim Chaewon.

Ok, she doesn't exude overwhelming aura, no predatory pull on your soul and then sucking your vitality or whatever. No, it's more like a certain girl has been waiting enough to fill the space with expectation?

"You're late."

…Yeah, expectation.

Her voice drifts in from the living room, subconsciously carrying that sultry tone. It's supposed to be low, inviting, and meant to wrap around you and pull you in.

Well, it doesn't (not a bad thing perchance), but because it's Chaewon.

See, a succubus from your memory is supposed to be sexy, curves hitting in the right places, wearing the skimpiest type of clothing mankind can even imagine before the next best thing (bathing suit). Your wife? Fully stretched out across the couch like a cat, shirt slipping just slightly off her shoulder, her hair falling in soft disarray that tries to look effortless and almost succeeds.

Well, almost. This poor girl tried to rehearse this in the bathroom more than once.

You drop your bag by the door. "Sorry, hon. Traffic."

"You're not lying, right?"

"Do you want me to be?”

The pause is pregnant. (But not her) "…No."

"Then I'm not. Never to you."

"…Okay."

Her shoulders sink, barely noticeable unless you're looking for it, which you are. Always are.

Feeling like your stomach will eat you alive instead of Chaewon, you move into the kitchen, loosening your tie as you go, your body unwinding in unconscious ways now that you're home.

"Chae, did you eat?" You open the fridge mindlessly, scouting the content inside.

"I was…waiting."

Your hand stills on the fridge door and your head turns slightly, enough to catch her in your peripheral. "You can just eat first."

"I know."

"But…?"

"…I just want to have dinner with you."

There it is. That thing she does without knowing it herself. No succubus charm layered underneath, nor any manipulation laced in the phrasing. Just an honest line from the least seductive succubus yet also the most endearing woman in your entire life.

"Alright." You exhale slowly, grabbing the leftover curry from yesterday. "Get to the table, Chae. Let me heat this up."

"Wait, I want to cook—" "It's okay, Chae."

"I have gotten better, I swear." "I know."

"So just le—" "Chae. It's okay. Let's have a simple dinner, yea?"

"….Okay…" "Good Chae."

Later, after dinner, you end up on the couch, the TV casting a soft glow across the room of a random drama show while neither of you pay it any attention, the shouting that fills the space feels too fragile to leave completely silent.

You can feel Chaewon shifts beside you. Once. Twice. And a third time, more restless than before. "Chae?"

"It's nothing." "You're moving a lot."

"…I always move" "You're moving more than usual."

You finally glance at her, catching the way she's already looking at you attentively as if she's waiting for you to notice.

"Can I ask you something?"

"…Go on."

She hesitates, which immediately tells you this matters more than the others. "Do you…actually like me?"

You let the question sit for a moment before finally letting out: "…Chae, we're married. Doesn't that answer it?"

"…Not really?"

You meet her gaze head-on. "Okay….Why wouldn't I like you?"

“I’m a succubus who can’t seduce people,” her words get sharper now, more honest. “That’s literally the one thing I’m supposed to do.”

"You seduced me." "When?"

"When you knocked over a chair." "How is tha—"

"You apologised immediately." "…I panicked, ok?"