Chapter 190. Overworked Nurse Simulator

Succubi Chapter 190. Overworked Nurse Simulator

I reappeared in the academy formation circle. Mission room.

The teleportation glow faded under my boots with that weird floating feeling still stuck in my stomach. Like my body arrived first and my soul needed another three business days to catch up.

The room was quieter now.

A lot quieter.

Most students already gone. A few circles still active here and there, flashing as people returned from missions with dirt on their clothes, blood on weapons, or that exhausted “I almost died but I’m pretending I didn’t” look.

Meanwhile me?

I just came back from getting emotionally harassed by ghost girls and their fan club.

Different kind of damage.

A staff member looked up from his desk the moment I stepped out of the formation.

“Name.”

“Evan Drakos. First semester.”

He paused slightly at the “first semester” part.

Yeah.

I noticed that.

His fingers started typing across the keyboard beside him. Multiple mana screens hovered above the desk, glowing blue with mission logs and status reports.

I leaned slightly, trying to peek.

Couldn’t read anything.

Probably mission details.

Or maybe my psychological evaluation after surviving whatever the hell that village was.

The staff’s eyes scanned one screen.

Then another.

Then he nodded.

“Clear. Mission accomplished. Congratulations. Please step aside.”

That was it.

No “wow rookie.”

Just administrative efficiency.

I stepped aside while another student stumbled out of a teleportation circle looking like he fought a bear emotionally and physically.

The staff pointed toward another hallway without even looking at me.

“Mandatory post-mission examination. Room three.”

“Why? I’m fine.”

“Parasites. Illnesses. Poison. Possession. Curses. They could have attached to you.”

I blinked.

“Right. Fair enough.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets and headed toward the hallway, my body finally starting to realize it was tired. Not exhausted. Just… heavy. That post-adrenaline weight settling into my muscles.

And maybe… Maybe the image of a certain banshee smiling at me before I teleported away wasn’t helping.

My brain replayed it again.

“We’ll meet again, Rogue Mask E.”

Yeah.

No, thank you.

That woman was dangerous.

Pretty.

Smooth.

Way too confident.

And somehow managed to weaponize boob trauma.

I rubbed my face.

“I need better life choices.”

My ‘lil brother’ disagreed immediately.

‘She offered house invitation! She offered boobs! And you rejected her! I hate you!’

Oh, c’mon, I’m a pride demon not a lust demon!

I pushed open the infirmary room door.

And froze.

Because yeah.

The room was mostly empty.

Just shelves.

Medical tools.

Soft white lights.

One sleepy staff member half-dead at a desk.

And…

“Sera?”

The sloth girl looked up slowly from her chair.

Very slowly.

Like her soul had to manually reconnect to her body first.

Her eyes locked onto me.

Then she yawned.

Long.

Unashamed.

Cute in the most dangerous way possible.

“Ah…” she mumbled softly. “Anomaly.”

I stared at her.

“Why are you here?”

She blinked lazily.

“You exist.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Another yawn.

This girl really treated consciousness like an optional side quest.

I walked closer anyway, stopping near her desk.

“You work part time here or something?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here at this ungodly hour?”

She stretched slowly in her chair, sleeves slipping slightly down her arms.

“I need extra academic points,” she muttered. “So here I am.”

That sounded unbelievably believable.

And then…

Her sleepy eyes narrowed slightly at me.

“…Also.”

Uh oh.

She stood up.

Very slowly.

Very sloth-like.

And somehow still reached me before I mentally processed it.

Her fingers wrapped around my wrist.

Warm.

Soft.

Dangerously comfortable.

“I knew you took your first mission tonight,” she said quietly.

I blinked.

“You what?”

“I checked the mission board.”

“That sounds mildly stalker-ish.”

“No energy for stalking.”

Fair.

Honestly fair.

She tugged my hand lightly.

“Come.”

“I’m fine.”

“Come,” she repeated.

“It was easy.”

“Come,” she said again. This time with those hurt puppy eyes.

I sighed dramatically.

“Why do I feel like I’m being kidnapped by a tired raccoon?”

“I’m offended.”

“You should sleep instead.”

She ignored that completely and pulled me down the hallway with the speed of a sleepy succubus who absolutely should not move this efficiently.

Which somehow made it worse.

The infirmary room she dragged me into was way bigger than I expected.

Multiple beds.

Curtains.

Storage cabinets.

Soft lighting.

Very clean.

Too clean.

The moment we entered, Sera suddenly switched modes.

Completely.

Like someone activated “Overworked Nurse Simulator.”

She released my hand and immediately started moving around the room dramatically.

Cabinet open.

Drawer close.

Clipboard grab.

Bottle shake.

Paper flip.

Mana scanner activate.

She moved with maximum fake urgency.

I stood there watching her sprint emotionally while physically still moving at sloth speed.

“…Uh.”

She grabbed random tools.

Put them down.

Picked up another thing.

Walked to another shelf.

Nodded seriously at absolutely nothing.

“Sera? Is this necessary?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t even checked me yet.”

“I’m building atmosphere.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

She pointed a mana scanner at me dramatically.

“Critical condition.”

“I literally walked here.”

“Or internal suffering.”

“Okay, that one might be true.”

She hummed sleepily like she appreciated the honesty.

Then immediately shoved me toward one of the infirmary beds.

Not violently.

Just persistent sleepy force.

Which somehow was harder to resist.

I sat down with a sigh.

She nodded proudly like she had successfully stabilized a dying patient.

Then she rushed over to a clipboard and started writing random things.

Fast.

Aggressively.

Like she was trying to impress an invisible audience.

I squinted. “Are you doodling?”

“No.”

“That’s a cat.”

“It’s medical.”

I rubbed my face again.

Sera suddenly spun around toward me.

“Symptoms?”

“I killed ghosts.”

“Mhm.” She put on a thoughtful face.

“They moaned.”

Her pen stopped.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

She looked up.

“Explain.”

I made a smirk. “No.”

“You can’t say that and stop there.”

“I absolutely can,” I teased.

She narrowed her eyes sleepily.

Which honestly just looked like someone struggling against a nap.

I sighed dramatically and leaned back slightly against the infirmary bed.

“The village men were emotionally attached to ghost monsters.”

Silence.

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