After My Enemy Finds Out I'm a Succubus [Transmigration Book]

Finding Heyman's true identity is a difficult task.

This author never shows his face in front of others, and has no fixed pen name or identity. It is just because his writing style is very special that people will quickly recognize him every time he publishes a new work.

"At least it is confirmed that this is a nobleman,? Maybe a young lady."

Luke sat at the desk, enjoying the service of Lance rubbing his shoulders.

Lance asked, "Why does Your Highness think Heyman is a woman?"

"Writing novels shames the nobility,? But writing poetry doesn't. Nobles take pride in writing poems,? Dedicate poems to the king in order to get an official position—unless it is a woman." Luke thought,? " That's why she has to show her false identity."

The Holy Kingdom does not allow women to hold positions related to royal power and religion. It is okay for unmarried ladies to write romantic lyric poems to express their tenderness. If they dare to write serious narrative epics, then something bad will happen.

No one wants to marry a noble lady who is derided as a "tomboy".

If Heyman is really a woman, then she will definitely become a bosom friend with Aphra who wants to be Pope.

Luke thought with appreciation.

They are all people who have the courage to go against the tide of the times.

Appreciation is appreciation—Luke found her first order,? It must have been to stop updating the damn "The Servant".

"Where did Aphra go? I didn't see her this morning."

"Miss Aphra and Miss Charlotte went to the fief of Viscount York to treat the Viscount's disabled mother, Your Highness."

Luke nodded with satisfaction.

Since Aphra showed her limelight in the arena, countless invitation letters have been sent to the prince's mansion, pleading for her to cure their chronic diseases.

Luke rejected most of the invitations for her. After screening, Aphra chose some people to go for treatment, including both nobles and commoners. She never missed a single time.

Luke occasionally heard from the tea parties of the nobles that those patients who had been reborn would even privately praise her as a "saint".

"Saint", a good title.Luke thought that it would be very logical for a saint to be pope.

This requires a poet who can speak well to promote her.

"Give me a copy of Hyman's poem." Luke said to Lance.

The text version of the long poem was delivered to him in the evening of the same day.

Everyone's handwriting is different.

Lance's handwriting is unexpectedly beautiful. If you look closely, the shape and spacing of each letter are precise, just like those printed in modern times.

Luke guessed that he learned to write from a certain woman, perhaps the nun whom Lance had mentioned.

He read these long poems carefully. Hyman's writing style is indeed very special, and this style is familiar to him.

——Inexplicably, the writing style on the parchment scroll he read before crossing.

Luke's heart skipped a beat.

Coincidence.

He dismissed the idea quickly - his throat was starting to dry.

After all, it was another seven days.

Now that the prey is in front of him, Luke doesn't want to let himself endure for too long, lest he end up turning into a beast without reason.

He read the parchment calmly, and his voice was the same as usual: "Go get your blood."

There was no movement behind him.

Luke looked back sullenly: "I said that the blood was to be pumped into the vessel 'in advance' and presented to me when needed. It seems that you have completely forgotten about this matter?"

Lance watched him silently.

His Highness's tone was fierce like a cat about to bite a pigeon, but his cheeks were light pink, and his eyes stared at him, bright like flames and stars.

"Your Highness, the weather is getting hotter, and the quality of blood may be affected if the blood is taken out too early. Miss Aphra left this morning, and I didn't find a chance to ask her to help me draw blood." Lance said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Your Highness. "

Reasonable arguments.

"So when is she coming back?"

Luke didn't want to lose his mind, and didn't want to do some ugly things again—after all, for succubi, kisses were much more delicious than blood.

"I don't know, Your Highness." Lance said with downcast eyes, "But Miss Aphra said before leaving that she might come back very late today."

He concealed the fact that he had heard the ladies' carriage arriving at the Prince's residence ten minutes earlier.At that time, His Highness was probably reading the poem seriously, and did not notice the slight sound.

"Go to her to get the equipment." Luke tried his best to be patient, "I'll help you get it."

There is still a lot of time, he doesn't need to worry.

Those devices were blood-drawing devices similar to modern syringes, leaving only an imperceptible dot after use, and the blood would not splatter and stain his carpet.

This is undoubtedly a more concealed and more civilized way of eating than a rough cut.

Lance was about to say something more, when suddenly the tip of his ear moved.

Someone seemed to be outside the door.

So he said "Yes, Your Highness", then turned and walked out.

"Wait," Luke stopped him. "Belloc is still at the house. I don't allow you to meet him in private, and I don't allow you to make any eye contact. If you see him, avoid him."

"Go and come back quickly," he urged.

Lance pushed the door open.

He patrolled the empty corridor, and when he went down the stairs, he caught the girl's skirt flickering at the end of his sight.

He instantly judged that the person was not in danger, and he did not hear the part of the conversation that revealed His Highness's secret.

There is no need to chase after him, he has more important things to do.

Lance stood guard in the corridor outside His Highness's bedroom for a while, counting that the time was almost up, so he deliberately stepped heavily and walked back.

He has sworn to protect His Highness, and will never leave His Highness for half a step, let alone this special period.

"Where are the things?" His Highness was really dissatisfied with his empty hands.

Lance said calmly: "Master Bellocmore is on my way, I'm sorry, Your Highness."

Luke had no choice but to settle for the next best thing.

He picked up the goblet at the corner of the table: "Put the blood in..."

The voice stopped abruptly.

A fragrant smell came to the nostrils, and I saw that Lance was inserting the blood-stained sword back into the scabbard. The blood overflowed from the sword wound on his wrist, filled the whole hand, and dripped down.

Every drop of blood wasted on the floor felt like a knock on Luke's heart.

He pretended to be calm and grabbed the goblet, squeezed away from the chair and walked over, trying to catch the blood with the goblet.

Lance went to pick up the cup naturally, but something happened when the cup was handed over, and Luke's hand shook, and it fell to the floor with a "crack".

On the floor covered with broken glass and drops of blood, Luke raised his eyes and glanced at Lance, purple in his eyes.

"You seem to have made a lot of mistakes today, Lance."

"I'm very sorry, Your Highness." Lance smiled, "I will definitely pay more attention next time."

Luke snorted softly, and took his bloody hand unhurriedly, with a critical look on his face.

It's just that the lips are trembling slightly with desire.

"It's not elegant." He said disgustedly.

Then he sucked on the sword wound.

In order to meet the succubi, he specially changed into a loose nightgown with a backless back.Soon the devil's tail poked out from under the robe, and the bat wings spread out.

Luke sipped blood, his eyes gradually revealed obsessive purple.

Lance stared at the slightly hazy eyes.

The pupil color of the devil is blood red, but the pupil color of His Royal Highness after the succubi transformation just deepened and turned into a more gorgeous purple.

Now they stared at the blood on their wrists as if they were lovers, and Lance even envied his own blood for it.

He led His Highness to the table and carried His Highness to the table.

His Highness hugged his wrist, but suddenly there was a "hiss" from the pain.

There was mist in the boy's eyes, and the tip of his tongue spit out a small piece as if it had been scalded, with a small burn on it.

He stuck out his tongue, with anger in his eyes, as if he was complaining pitifully, why the good food suddenly bit him back.

Lance looked at his wrist suspiciously.

The untreated holy power flowed on the sword wound, and the skin was smooth and smooth—he healed himself unconsciously.

...was it because he was jealous of his wounds?

Just as he was thinking, Lance's hand suddenly trembled slightly.

The wet and hot tip of his tongue touched his fingers, licking away the remaining blood between the fingers.

His Highness looked serious and cute.

Lance's hands trembled uncontrollably.

He can't feel pain, and other tactile senses are negligible, but now, the impact of vision and mind is connected to the nerves of his limbs, and the tactile sense seems to be too comfortable.He realized something and silently read the scriptures.

After the last trace of blood was drawn into his mouth, Luke let go of him, licking his lips with insatiable desire.

"What are you shaking, I won't eat you." He raised his eyelids and said.

He has always retained a bit of reason. Although licking blood is as disgraceful as licking dishes, it is not too intimate... right?

The main reason is that the temptation is too great.

The temptation is too great - Lance has the same idea.

At this time, His Highness's lips were stained with bright blood, the tip of his tongue protruded and ticked off a little bit, and his fangs were looming.

He couldn't help thinking, what would happen if he kissed His Highness's lips at this moment and lied about "cleaning His Highness"....

Probably need to read the scriptures silently for a longer period of time.

"Sorry, Your Highness." He lowered his eyes, "That was an instinctive reaction, and I couldn't help it."

After saying that, Lance turned his back to pick up the glass shards on the ground, as if he was eager to hide something.

But Luke didn't notice this.

Even after eating the blood, he still felt a little ready to move.Blood is only enough to eat, and it tastes far worse than kisses.

And... the succubus' instinct told him that there seemed to be something delicious waiting for him to discover on Lance.

"By the way, congratulations on learning to use the healing technique on yourself." Luke sat on the desk, "But remember next time, don't use it when I am eating."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Lance picked up the broken glass distractedly, and accidentally cut a thin gash on his fingertip.

He told himself that the injury should be healed, however, the same miracle as before did not happen.

He still couldn't use Heal on himself.

What he can do is still only the desire of His Highness.

The night of succubi passed away safely, and the next day, Luke officially joined the plan to "capture" Heyman.

He ordered Angelo to find someone, and planned to get some information from his sister.

In the new infirmary, Luke was sitting by the side watching the liquid in Aphra's research vessel, with his left leg resting on his right leg for a while, and then switching back again.

Lifting his chin, he seemed hesitant to speak.

"What's the matter?" Afra laughed inwardly, "Tell me, I won't laugh at my brother."

Luke thought about it and said, "I heard that the novel of Heyman's Forbidden Love has new content."

"I happen to have the latest version here, which is much sweeter than the original one." Aphra said with a smile, "I'll lend it to my brother."

Luke choked.He originally wanted to inquire about other news, but he didn't expect Afra to just stuff a whole book for him.

...The cover is still the "Day and Menstruation" he used last time.

Luke held the book, his toes tapped in embarrassment.

He found a place where he was sure no one would pass by, and Lance would not suddenly appear from behind, and began to read by accident.

Heyman's novels are delicate and gentle, much worse than those magnificent epics... Luke criticized in his heart, but couldn't help feeling the sourness of the plot.

Then he read this added episode:

[The noble sits on a high stool, with his feet dangling in the air, clinging to the black chair legs like a spider clinging to a web, ensnaring his prey.

He tugged on the valet's bow tie, pulling him so close that his noses almost collided.

"I don't allow you to meet him in private, and I don't allow you to flirt with him or have any eye contact. Avoid him when you see him, do you hear me?"

"Why, master?"

They smelled each other's breath, and the noble's breath was sprayed on the servant's face.

"Because I would be jealous." The nobleman smiled. ]

Luke's scalp was numb: "..."

He has a very strong sense of déjà vu.

The status and character of the master and servant in the book are very different from that of him and Lance, and the plot has nothing to do with his life at all—but this line is clearly what he and Lance said yesterday afternoon!

Luke immediately went to Aphra to confirm: "When did you get this book? Where did it come from?"

Aphra rolled her eyes: "The bookseller sent it to me this morning. You know—popular novels always spread quickly."

Luke stared at her for a while, then said with a half-smile, "I see."

He understood—Aphra must know "Hyman", and "Hyman" was in his mansion, and he overheard their conversation yesterday afternoon by accident, and unconsciously incorporated it into the novel.

On the floor of his bedroom, only the nobles invited by the mansion can pass through unless there are special circumstances.

"Call Bellocmore and Miss Lotte Charlotte tonight for a fireside reading," Luke announced with a smile.

Based on intuition, unless there is such a coincidence in the world, Heyman's identity is almost inseparable.

At the reading session at night, everyone was present, and Luke sat on the sofa in the center, and said straight to the point: "I want to recommend a poet to everyone, her name is Hyman."

"Your Highness," Miss Charlotte said, "Heyman is a gentleman."

Luke looked at her expression with a smile, until she couldn't help avoiding his eyes, and said: "This is just a guess. If she is a young lady, it will undoubtedly make me admire more."

Miss Charlotte looked up slightly in surprise.

She is not as beautiful as Aphra, but she has a pair of quiet dark blue eyes.Perhaps it was the years of notoriety that affected her, and there was always melancholy and contemplation in those eyes.

"I like her long poems, whether she is a man or a woman. It's just that if she is a woman, then I admire her courage even more, and I intend to provide her with a more open channel for publication."

Miss Charlotte showed too many tell's feet, which made Luke wonder whether these "tells" were leaked intentionally by the lady.

This was a temptation for both the master and the slave, and Luke gave her the best conditions he could to make her feel at ease.

At the end of the study session, he naturally said: "Dear Miss Charlotte, may I have the honor to invite you to stay and have a private conversation with me?"

Miss Charlotte stayed.

"Hi, Miss Charlotte, or Mr. Heyman." Luke looked at her with a smile, "I've heard her name for a long time."

"Your Highness." Miss Charlotte admitted her identity.

Luke calmed down and said, "I'm curious, why did you suddenly decide to walk into my sight?"

"Through the three years of being tortured by rumors, I found that a lady's reputation can be easily ruined by other people's stories." Charlotte said bluntly, "The reputation is false, I want to have my own story, and His Royal Highness is against Miss Aphra. His attitude made me see this opportunity."

She is not willing to be just a countess who needs to be married off, only to be an anonymous poet——His Royal Highness the little prince seems to be a wise master.

"I promise," Luke said solemnly, "after I'm crowned, your real name and gender can be recorded in the history books, and the characters written by you can be passed down through the ages."

"What do you need from me?" Charlotte asked.

Luke likes her straightforwardness: "I hope to hear the name of Aphra's "Saint" spread in the Holy Kingdom. It should be exaggerated and deified."

A trace of cunning flashed across his eyes, "It's fine to brag about being the "God's Chosen One"."

But Charlotte took out a few pages of manuscript paper directly from the cracks in the book.

"This is my manuscript, a long poem about Miss Aphra, Your Highness." She said in Luke's surprised eyes, "Miss Aphra and Your Highness have helped me a lot, even if it is not your order, I would like to Repay you."

The nomination form has already been prepared.

Luke took the manuscript paper, his eyes full of appreciation: "We will be excellent collaborators."

He got up and left the table, walking steadily like a king.

——and then backed away like a lost boy.

"I don't interfere with your freedom to create romantic novels—" Luke said with a evasive look, "but Lance and I don't have the relationship you imagined."

"Ah...you also read that novel?" Charlotte was a little embarrassed.

At this time, she no longer looks like a talented poet, but a girl with a black vest whose history has been exposed.

"When I used to write it out of hobbies, I didn't know anything about Your Highness. Later, when I saw you getting along, I couldn't help but..." She blushed and whispered, "I wanted to go to your bedroom yesterday afternoon. Discussing the matter of 'Hyman', I didn't expect Mr. Winston to be there."

So she heard half of the flirtatious conversation, and ran away in embarrassment.

Luke observed her expression and made sure that she hadn't heard the topic of blood and succubus, otherwise her expression would not be like this.

"You misunderstood." Luke explained again, "We really don't have a close relationship. The original meaning of that sentence is not 'jealous', cough."

It was a little difficult for him to speak, especially to a lady he was not familiar with.

"Good night, then," he said finally.

"I wish Your Highness sweet dreams." She also said.

When Charlotte was packing up her books and preparing to leave, the door of the living room was knocked twice, and another "protagonist" in the story walked in.

"Miss Charlotte, good night." Lance smiled politely, "I want to ask you some questions about "The Servant of Love."

Charlotte: "..."

The Lance who "absolutely has no intimate relationship" in the mouth of the little prince turned out to be her loyal reader, and seemed to be very interested in the plot of the story.

Charlotte wouldn't believe it if he hadn't substituted the "manservant".

"Please speak." Charlotte held back her voice and said reservedly.

Lance's eyes were full of serious curiosity.

"Excuse me, in the story, the noble and the servant kiss, what happens every time the 'candle goes out'?"

Charlotte: "..."

Is this kind of question really suitable to ask a young lady?

And isn't it well known what happens after the light is pulled?

Seeing her abnormal expression, Lance said, "Sorry, I was the one to be abrupt."

"No, it doesn't matter," Charlotte said.

She was shocked to find that Lance hadn't meant to tease or tease her, that the question had been completely serious.

Lance said sincerely: "Miss Charlotte, you are very knowledgeable and talented. I have learned a lot of knowledge from the book. As a thank you, I can do something for you that will not harm the interests of Your Highness."

"No need, it's easy to do." Charlotte said quickly.

Lance smiled and said goodbye: "I hope I didn't disturb you. I still need to serve His Highness, good night."

Until he left, the blush on Charlotte's face hadn't faded—not because of Lance's handsome demeanor, but because of the sweet love between Lance and the little prince.

The "manservant" she created when she had never met Lance: polite, gentle and affectionate, black-bellied, domineering, in order to seize power by all means, and never cherish it until it is lost - a charming scumbag.

But the "male servant" of this pair of real master and servant is surprisingly innocent?

"The empty white paper is gradually stained with the color of the owner, until the color grows too vivid, subverting the owner who used to write, sweeping and submerging him..."

Charlotte had an occupational disease attack, and while reading leisurely, she walked to her guest bedroom.

At the same time, in the master bedroom, Luke opened the door and found that Lance was not waiting for him in the room, and couldn't help complaining a few times in his heart.

He kicked off his shoes, fell on his back on the big bed in his clothes, and opened the long poem paper that Charlotte handed him.

The moment Luke came into contact with those handwritings, Luke was stunned.

Everyone has their own special handwriting.

And the handwriting on the manuscript—Charlotte's handwriting—is exactly the same as the handwriting on the parchments he has read in modern times.

The familiarity in Charlotte's writing style has an answer.

——Because the parchments about this period of history that Luke read in modern times were written by Charlotte.

An unknown terror struck Luke.

The author has something to say: Lance: Miss Charlotte is so knowledgeable. (sincere)

Charlotte: Why do I feel that you are scolding me.