The Incubus System Chapter 1153. A Date With My Step Sis III

The Incubus System Chapter 1153. A Date With My Step Sis III

I smirked. “Tiff.”

She took a sip of her milkshake. Avoiding my gaze.

“Tiff.”

She cleared her throat, focusing way too hard on the table. “I meant in general, dumbass.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I did!”

I leaned forward, grinning now. “You hesitated.”

She scowled. “No, I didn’t.”

I mimicked her voice in an exaggerated tone. “I mean… I can’t explain it either.”

Tiffany threw a fry at me.

I dodged, laughing. “That was a confession, Tiff.”

Her face was red now. “It was not.”

I grinned. “Oh, it totally was.”

She groaned, dropping her forehead against the table. “I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

Tiffany’s entire face flushed red.

Her fingers tightened around her glass, her lips parting slightly like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh, glare at me, or just melt into the booth and cease to exist.

I could practically see the internal war happening in her head.

And honestly?

It was adorable.

I definitely wanted to tease her more. But… yeah. Maybe not push too hard.

So instead, I just smiled at her, soft but amused. “You know… I’m happy you said it.”

She fumbled with her straw, stirring the remains of her milkshake aggressively. “It should be you who said it first.”

I shrugged. “I did say it.”

Tiffany narrowed her eyes. “As a joke.”

I smirked. “Doesn’t make it less of a confession.”

She pointed at me. “But as a step-sibling confession, right?”

I hummed, tilting my head. “Yes. For now.”

Tiffany froze.

Her brows furrowed slightly, like she was trying to figure out if she heard that correctly.

I sighed, resting my arms on the table. “We don’t really know each other, Tiff. Not in the way that would make something like that real. I mean, for most of my life…” I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. “I used to hate you.” I huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah. I thought you were with my mom, living some great life while I was stuck dealing with her crap. I assumed you were happy. That you had everything I didn’t.”

She didn’t say anything.

I glanced at her, shrugging. “But it was a misunderstanding. A big one.”

Her fingers curled slightly on the table.

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Turns out, your life was just as shitty as mine.” I hesitated, then muttered, “Maybe worse.”

Tiffany let out a small, sharp laugh. Bitter. “Yeah. Maybe.”

I rubbed my temple. “I was jealous of you.”

Her brows raised slightly, genuine surprise flickering in her expression. “Of me?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Because I thought… I don’t know. That you had a family. A real one. While mine was—” I gestured vaguely. “A train wreck.”

Tiffany stared at me for a long moment.

Then, softly, she murmured, “I was jealous of you too.”

I blinked.

Her eyes lowered slightly, tracing the rim of her glass. “Because you had a real dad. And he actually cared about you.”

I froze.

Those words settled in my chest, heavy and unexpected.

I never thought about it like that.

Tiffany sighed, shaking her head. “But I guess we were both wrong, huh?”

I exhaled, leaning back against the seat. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between us.

Not uncomfortable. Not tense.

Just… understanding.

After a moment, she looked up at me again. “So.”

I arched a brow. “So?”

She hesitated. Then, voice barely above a whisper—“Do you still hate me?”

I snorted. “No, dumbass.”

Tiffany smiled. Small. Genuine.

And this time, she didn’t blush.

Tiffany just sat there, watching me with those sharp eyes, like she was trying to understand something even she couldn’t quite put into words yet.

She stirred what was left of her milkshake, slow, thoughtful, her gaze flickering between me and the table. Then, after a moment, she spoke again. “You know…” she said, tilting her head slightly. “The more I get to know you… the more you seem—”

She hesitated.

I arched a brow. “Seem what?”

Her lips twitched. “You seem… okay.”

I blinked. “Okay?”

Tiffany nodded. “Yeah.”

I squinted. “Define okay.”

She exhaled, setting her straw down. “I mean… you’re not the brightest person I’ve ever met.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

“Also not the smartest.”

“Double ouch.”

She smirked. “I mean, tactically, sure. You’re smart when it comes to strategy. But sometimes? Sometimes you just…” She gestured vaguely at me. “You say things.”

I scoffed. “That’s called having conversations, Tiffany.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I mean you just—blurt stuff out, like your brain and mouth aren’t always working at the same speed.”

I stared at her. “Are you calling me dumb?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m calling you… impulsive.”

I huffed. “Feels like the same thing.”

Tiffany grinned. “Take it however you want.”

I held back my cringe and forced out a flat, “Thank you.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “But—”

I glanced up. “But?”

Her expression softened just slightly, her voice quieter now. “You have this… I don’t know. This charming side. Something unexpected.”

I raised a brow. “Unexpected?”

She nodded, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out. “Yeah. Like… sometimes, I don’t expect certain things to come from you. But then they do. And it just… works.”

I frowned slightly. “That’s… weird, isn’t it?”

Tiffany nodded vigorously. “Yes! Exactly!”

I exhaled, leaning back in my seat.

Yeah.

I knew exactly what she meant. It was weird. I knew I was the Prince of Darkness, the Demon Lord, an Incubus, a Nephilim—whatever the hell people wanted to call me. I knew I was supposed to be some terrifying, powerful being who stood at the top.

But when I was like this? In my human form, just… sitting here, eating a cheeseburger, teasing Tiffany?

I was still Ethan.

And I still acted like it.

I was still me.

And sometimes, yeah… I didn’t get it.

What made people fall for me?

Damian? Sure. Damian was powerful, handsome, confident, commanding. The kind of presence that drew people in, made them admire him, fear him, respect him.

But me?

Ethan?

I didn’t understand it.

At first, I thought it was just looks. That maybe they liked what they saw on the outside.

But then… over time, it became more than that.

They didn’t just want me. They loved me.

The real me.