Chapter 150: Because You Want to Protect Yourself

"I'm scared?"

Freya instinctively questioned, "But didn't you just say I'm really happy?"

"Happiness and fear can coexist," Adela explained. "In the casino, I've seen plenty of people like this—they get a fantastic hand, so they're thrilled, ecstatic about their chance to win. But at the same time, they're terrified that their opponent has an even better hand. That fear lingers, no matter what."

"Happiness comes from what you already have. Fear comes from the possibility that someone can take it away. Freya, who are you playing this game against? What kind of gamble are you caught up in?"

"This class is boring anyway," Adela added with a grin. "Instead of paying for a therapist, why not just talk to me? I'll even do it for free."

Freya hesitated. "Normally, therapy should be done with someone completely detached from your personal life…"

"That's true," Adela said, resting her chin on her hand while observing Freya's beautiful face. "But here you are, radiating happiness, yet your eyes are screaming, 'Please, help me.' How can I just sit back and do nothing?"

Freya gently touched her face, momentarily lost in thought.

Adela didn't push her, simply waiting in silence.

The sun streamed through the window, and the professor's voice droned on in the background, a lullaby to the sleepy classroom.

But Freya felt out of place in this tranquil atmosphere.

She was glowing with a happiness Adela had never seen before.

Not even the gambler who had miraculously clawed their way out of crushing debt, avoiding a lifetime of servitude as a cybernetically enhanced laborer, looked this joyful.

Not even a student accepted into the prestigious Red Mist Research Institute appeared this relaxed.

Not even the most successful professionals—scholars, professors, or entrepreneurs—seemed this at peace.

It was almost blinding.

So much so that it stirred something unpleasant within Adela.

Annoyance.

Even disgust.

Finally, after a long silence, Freya spoke. "I… know this one succubus…"

"Oh, pfft!" Adela burst into laughter, almost choking. "Go on, please."

Freya shot her a glare before continuing, "She recently, due to some unusual circumstances, met a man…"

Because of her contract, Freya couldn't reveal Ash's true identity, appearance, or the fact that he was living in her apartment. But she could twist the facts just enough to share the story: their shared dinners could be framed as meals at his place, their nights together as hotel stays, and her refusal to let him sleep on the bed as her preference, not his hesitation.

Piece by piece, she recounted their recent interactions, finally admitting, "Now, I find myself both drawn to him and repelled by him. I feel like I'm sick or something…"

"Isn't it obvious?" Adela chuckled. "The succubus has fallen in love."

"No, absolutely not." Freya shook her head firmly. "I've been in love before. Love is about closeness, about embracing, wanting, taking. How can love involve repulsion or avoidance?"

Adela tilted her head thoughtfully. "Love has many forms, many purposes. The love you're used to, Freya, is superficial—born of beauty, fleeting and driven by desire. When a more attractive face comes along, your affection naturally shifts. That love is replaceable."

"But this man… he's not just offering fleeting desire. He's brought the joy of companionship, the comfort of routine, the alignment of souls. You might encounter countless pretty faces in your lifetime, but an interesting soul? That might only come once."

"And that's why this love feels unbearable. It's irreplaceable. Worse, he's slipping deeper into your life, like a toxin seeping into your veins, impossible to purge."

Adela leaned closer, her tone almost teasing. "What a devilish man. By letting you into his life, he's stepped into yours. By trying to understand you, he's made you want to understand him. By relying on you, he's made you rely on him."

"Only a man willing to throw away his pride, independence, and even privacy would pull off something so shameless. Not even the orphanage's basic moral education could produce someone this low." She shook her head dramatically. "And yet, this shameless man has managed to charm the succubus. Truly, what bad luck you have."

Freya was utterly lost in her words, murmuring, "Then… what should I do?"

"Follow your instincts. Hate him. Push him away," Adela said softly. "If this goes on, you'll only sink deeper into feelings that will strip you of your identity. What binds you won't just be him, but everything you've invested in him."

"You've heard it in the orphanage countless times, haven't you? 'Every relationship that makes you uneasy will taint you.' 'Every relationship that makes you compromise will harm you.' 'Every relationship that makes you change will control you.' That man is tainting you, harming you, controlling you."

Adela gently grasped Freya's hand. "We were educated for this exact purpose—not to lose ourselves. We live for ourselves, and only for ourselves. There's no room to carry anyone else."

"Do you remember what the Bloodline Prohibition Act stood for?"

Freya whispered, "Personal freedom…"

"Exactly. Personal freedom. Without bloodlines, without family, without love, every chain that binds is severed, leaving only freedom behind."

"Maybe you think he matters right now, but that's just an illusion. A month, a week, even a single moment later, you'll find yourself wanting something else, someone new, a different future."

"This isn't just for your sake—it's for his. Humans change far more than succubi ever will."

"Think about it. What if he suddenly decides to leave you? How would you feel?"

The thought of his limited "shelf life" made Freya's breath hitch, her chest tightening. "It would… hurt."

"And that's after knowing him for just a few days. Imagine if it were months or years. Would you twist yourself into someone you're not, just to make him stay?"

"You already know this is a possibility. That's why you're scared, why you want to run."

"Because you want to protect yourself. Even the softest clouds fear being torn apart."

As Freya's expression grew increasingly fragile, Adela leaned in, whispering with a chilling gentleness.

"We don't need irreplaceable love."