Chapter 12

【Luxury crystal chandelier ×1】
Wen Xi stashed everything in inventory—not time to study rewards.
He rushed back to the sprite and paid Dr. Fei’s house call.
The moment payment cleared, a gash opened in a blank wall—widened—blinding white light—and a man with a medkit flew in against the glow.
White coat; huge wings folded away after landing.
He straightened his collar, eyes locking on the sprite in bed—strode over, bent, checked injuries.
After examination, fluent Mandarin: “Poor kid—Siran didn’t hit vitals, but there are too many scrapes and bruises. He’s still small—no self-heal, not enough mana to dull pain. I have medicine that might help.”
System smelled money instantly.
System: 【Spend 50 Heart Coins on painkiller and strong recovery pills?】
Buy—why else call a doctor?
He had Heart Coins to burn now.
Pay.
On order, Fei Yili pulled a syringe of purple-black liquid from the kit, lifted the sprite’s arm, injected.
Pain made the sprite whimper; Fei Yili murmured low and gentle, “Ruilo, fengu noth hunli.”
【Good boy—it’ll stop hurting soon.】
His voice carried real calm—the sprite settled; anxiety smoothed.
After the shot, HP ticked up a sliver. Fei Yili changed dressings, rewrapped wounds. Leaving, he set three black pills and a bottle of water.
Fei Yili: “Beloved human—little Siran isn’t stable yet. He needs your care. If you can—stay with him, wake him?”
Wen Xi still had to wake him?
What was the shot for then?
System: 【Dr. Fei Yili’s request—accept?】
【Accept】【Decline】
At this point—could he refuse?
System: 【Quest accepted—progress 0—let’s do this together!】
Fei Yili left; Wen Xi opened WeChat on his tablet and ordered takeout.
While waiting, Wen Siran kept muttering—too muffled to hear; only the bubble translated: 【Water…want water…】
Wen Xi took Fei’s bottle, propped the sprite carefully, fed him sip by sip.
Wen Siran drank half—head lolled—out again.
Wen Xi laid him back gently, blanket to chin, lit the fireplace.
System: 【Water given—quest progress 20.】
System: 【Warmth bonus—quest progress 50.】
Only fifty?
So at least two more interactions to finish.
Then a white arrow appeared on the sprite’s forehead—pointing down—caption: 【Cool him physically.】
Wen Xi went to the bath, wet a clean square towel, wrung it, laid it on the sprite’s forehead.
System: 【Cooling success—quest progress 70.】
The camera felt like sitting bedside—Wen Xi clearly saw lashes flutter—almost waking.
System: 【Wen Siran is trapped in a nightmare—help him wake.】
How?
Where was the arrow? Fenrir?
Nobody to help him?
A hint would be nice.
Wen Xi propped his chin, staring at the screen.
Quest meant usable props, right?
Like water, fireplace, towel—tools.
His eyes landed on Fei’s pills.
He picked one, touched it to the sprite’s lips—it didn’t go in—flew back to the table.
Small text: 【Failed—pills only work when succubus is conscious.】
Wen Xi: …
How to wake him?
Right—wash face!
People perk up after washing!
He dragged the wet cloth over the sprite’s face.
Nothing. Still nothing.
Fine.
Face wash useless.
He tried patting cheeks, tickling feet, flicking lashes, gently shaking—
All failed.
Out of ideas, he opened search.
“City of Succubi sprite sick how wake up?”
First hit—AI answer from other games: find chests or potions—useless.
Lower results—random games with “succubus” in the title.
He searched “City of Succubi Dr. Fei Yili request.”
Nonsense hits.
The internet had zero real info on “City of Succubi.”
Wen Xi was surer—this had to be a beta—not officially launched—no guides made sense.
Back in-game, he dragged every movable object in the hut to the sprite—tried everything.
Still no wake.
Lashes were moving—so close—
Wen Xi lifted an eyelid with a finger—
Hey—wake up, big head.
When he let go, eyes closed again.
No move left.
Might as well eat.
Delivery arrived.
Phone on a stand—eating while studying.
Not addiction—being quest-stuck hurt.
He’d just dropped 648 and the kid wouldn’t wake half a day.
How was he supposed to play?
Fuzai brought his bowl to his feet—whining, pawing his leg.
Wen Xi rinsed a few beef slices in water for the bowl—dog quieted.
Looking up—“savior” Fenrir finally appeared—Wen Xi had never wanted his chatter box this badly.
Guidance from Fenrir: 【Dear Master—little Siran can only be woken by affection now. Simple petting won’t reach a succubus trapped in nightmare—secret: for us, the most sensitive, important spots are horns and tail～】
Horns and tail.
Wen Siran didn’t have horns yet—so…
Only the tail!
Author’s note:
Wen Siran’s tail was much shorter than other succubi’.
Wen Xi had to lift the blanket and roll him sideways to expose the thin short tail—triangular tip.
Wen Xi dragged the virtual hand down the tail root toward the tip—joy of almost finishing the quest.
Once, twice—no quest complete ping.
How long was he supposed to stroke?
Was Fenrir even right?
As tutorial NPC—he wouldn’t troll—or… tail petting had technique?
Wen Xi thought—and stroked a third time.
This time as the hand reached the tip—the triangle suddenly turned heart-shaped; color flushed from pale pink to rose red.
Wen Xi froze—so sudden—why morph?
Before he figured it out, the sprite turned his head slowly.
Maybe just awake—voice soft: “Polin…ydu vosuo alozi?”
【Human—you like my tail?】
Wen Xi had been mission-focused—blameless—until that blunt question made him awkward.
Creep—petting a chibi’s butt and getting caught.
He let go like it burned, yanked the blanket back.
The chibi simulated emotion scarily well—Wen Xi dreaded a lecture on boundaries.
No voice chat—no way to defend himself—didn’t want to eat the blame.
The sprite stiffened when the tail was dropped—smile drooped—eyes rimmed red.
He turned away, curled small: “O…Id zijor le noth boli…”
【Oh…I know it’s not pretty.】
See—basically human—thin-skinned.
Wen Xi hadn’t said ugly—the tail could change shape—that was cool.
Confidence!
“Ding.”
Quest complete interrupted his spiral.
System: 【Affection wake quest complete】
System: 【Your familiar is very weak—please stay with him if you can.】
I’m here.
Wen Xi looked at the sprite.
His personal devil bubble showed a rain cloud pouring.
Wen Xi patted him through the blanket; he turned obediently—face already tear-smeared.
Crying again—zero masculine grit!