Quick Transmigration: Yandere Male Leads? Hand 'Em Over! - Chapter 99

Xiang Zhi’ang had a long, wild dream.

In it, a girl had saved him when he was gravely wounded, and he should have repaid her with a lifetime of loyalty and servitude.

But somehow… by the end of the dream, he was forcing her to grab his tail, stroke his horns, and rub his ears—

He looked like a crazed, insatiable dog, doing unspeakable things to the girl while licking the tears off her cheeks, her neck, and her collarbone.

It was madness.

He’d always believed he was different from those lust-driven beasts. He refused to acknowledge the inherent lewdness of the incubus race. But the truth was: he was no better than a brute.

Not only did he fail to repay his savior properly, but deep down, he wanted to feed on her—to use her to satisfy his basest cravings.

What a relief it had all just been a sweet nightmare.

There was still time to prevent it. Still time to fix it.

When he finally came to, Xiang Zhi’ang was lying on the cold floor, gripping—not the girl’s hand—but the long ear of a plush bunny.

He let out a bitter, mocking smile.

Of course. A slave doesn’t deserve to sleep in a bed.
(He’d rolled off the bed during his “excited” dream.)

There was no way his master had actually held his hand and soothed him to sleep. No way she’d pressed their foreheads together, stroked his horns and tail, or kissed him to feed him.

Even so, a faint glow lingered in the man’s dark purple eyes as they clung to the bunny plush like a serpent wrapping around its prey—twisted, obsessive, and strangely fond.

Even if she was just humoring him, it still meant something.

Today he was allowed to sleep on the floor.
Tomorrow, he’d get the couch.
The day after that, her bed.
And one day soon, he’d make her his. Completely.

After all, she had promised in the dream to stay by his side.
But in reality? She’d left him alone with a boring stuffed bunny.

Xiang Zhi’ang smiled darkly, brushed the dust off the plush, and carefully placed it on the bedside table. Then he dove into her still-warm, messy bed.

Even the pillows and blankets smelled amazing.

She must’ve slept here, right?

Incubi couldn’t smell their own scent, but he could smell hers clearly. She was heartless to make a patient sleep on the floor while hogging the warm, soft blankets for herself.

He efficiently smoothed the sheets, rolled the blanket into a tidy tube, and fluffed the pillows into perfect roundness. Only then did he step out of the bedroom to survey his new “territory.”

It had rained that morning—there was water on the balcony.
He mopped it.

There was dust on the TV stand.
He wiped it down.

The groceries hadn’t been put away.
He cleaned, chopped, and arranged them on plates.

…

Where was she? Leaving an injured incubus home alone—what kind of master did that?

After finishing his chores, Xiang Zhi’ang glanced at the last small, private space in the apartment. He figured there wouldn’t be much left to clean…

Until he pushed open the bathroom door and saw a few pieces of intimate clothing tossed carelessly in the laundry bin—some trimmed with delicate, lacey ribbons.

Just sitting there, quietly, like a secret.

He walked over, knelt down, and lifted one to his face, breathing in deeply. Because it had been worn close to her skin, the scent of his master was especially potent.

To sell incubi at sky-high prices, demon-hunting organizations often subjected them to intense training—laundry, cooking, even lulling people to sleep…

But there were exceptions—rare incubi like Xiang Zhi’ang who could fetch a mountain of gold without ever being trained.

He had perfect recall. Just watching others get trained was enough to pick it up. He used to scoff at the idea of catering to humans. But now?

Here he was, clutching a piece of her clothing and inhaling like an addict.

He didn’t even want to wash it—it would erase her scent.

Still, before doing the laundry, he sat there and cradled her clothes for half an hour, reluctantly breathing in her warmth. Only after that did he lather them with delicate underwear soap and wash each one by hand.

The irritation inside him slowly began to fade.

As he scrubbed the soft fabric, he looked up at the bathroom mirror—and was stunned.

All the obvious incubus traits on his body had vanished!

No wonder humans talked about “imaginary food quelling hunger” and “quenching thirst by thinking of plums.” Even dream meals worked for incubi.

Right now, Xiang Zhi’ang just wanted to lie back down on the floor of the bedroom, snuggle the bunny, and go right back into that shameless, intoxicating dream.

But right then—
The doorbell rang.

He frowned, hung the last piece of clothing on the drying rack, and thought to himself:

So she’s back this late? Did she go out to pick up another incubus?

Probably got seduced by some wild stray and forgot her keys. Now she needs the house-trained one to answer the door.

He straightened his clothes and opened the door with a modest, obedient air.

Outside stood two men—one older, one younger.

The older one had a face you’d never forget.
The younger one had a particularly lecherous kind of ugly.

The butcher uncle held a large bag of meat—chicken, duck, fish—and smiled warmly.

“Does Miss Su live here? These are the groceries she ordered.”

The younger man was his son. After hearing his dad hype up the pretty girl who bought all that meat, he insisted on tagging along to see her for himself.

Even though the person who answered the door was a man, his eyes were still glued to him, suspicious of his orientation.

“You two are siblings, right? Your parents must have great genes—both of you look amazing…”

The butcher chatted casually as he carried over the twenty-odd pounds of meat to the kitchen sink. As he pulled out his payment QR code, he subtly pried for information—

“So… does your sister have a boyfriend? My son’s twenty-five and hasn’t dated anyone yet…”

“No,” Xiang Zhi’ang said coldly.

The uncle blinked. “No what?”

“We’re not siblings.” Xiang Zhi’ang glanced at the younger man behind him, voice slow but clear and deliberate.

“She’s my master.”

The butcher’s son: “Oh, roleplay? Can I join? I’m into all kinds of stuff!”

Xiang Zhi’ang looked him up and down.

“My master has taste. She doesn’t accept ugly servants. Now get lost.”

This rotten cucumber really thought he deserved love? Xiang Zhi’ang could tell just by looking how filthy he was. And he still dared to dream about playing games with his master?

The butcher’s son flushed a deep purple.

The uncle sighed and waved the QR code again. “Pay up.”

“…Give me a second,” Xiang Zhi’ang replied.

He didn’t have a phone. Not a single cent to his name.

He rummaged through drawers for a long while before finally digging up a few coins.

The butcher uncle’s face darkened instantly. He stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, scolding loudly:

“Young man, you’ve got hands and feet—mooching off women is one thing, but not even having a few hundred bucks on hand? What kind of man are you?! You’re a disgrace!”

“I’m not a man,” Xiang Zhi’ang replied indifferently.

Some people get rich with their hands.
Some blaze trails with their feet.
Incubi? They’re born to live off their looks.
No one’s better than anyone else.

Mocking him? Jealous they can’t get anyone to feed them, clearly.

The butcher’s son was livid. He cursed internally—why do the pretty ones always fall for scumbags like this? Why would a beautiful woman ever keep someone so shameless?

Next door, the landlord Lin Yang had just changed into a suit and tie, holding a vibrant bouquet, ready to confess his love.

But when he reached Su Ci’s door, he found three men crowding her entrance.

Upon learning that the butcher was waiting for Su Ci to pay, Lin Yang pulled out his phone without hesitation, scanned the code, and even gave the father and son a hundred-yuan tip.

“Sorry for the trouble. I’m Lin Yang, Miss Su’s landlord. I live next door. If you have deliveries in the future, just knock on my door first.”

He then shot a scornful glance at Xiang Zhi’ang.

He had to admit—this incubus was stunning.
But at best, he was just a plaything.

Once he successfully confessed and advanced his relationship with Su Ci, maybe he could even share this incubus… have him give massages, scrub backs, wash his feet, who knew?

The butcher and his son stormed off.

Xiang Zhi’ang leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, calmly assessing his latest visitor:

“Downward-slanting nearsighted eyes, garlic bulb nose, sausage lips, oily skin, and pimples—”

“And that on your head… is it a wig?”

The landlord’s impression of him nosedived.

“…Do you have any manners?”

Xiang Zhi’ang raised a brow.
“You made the first move, creep. What, no mirror at home? Don’t tell me you actually think that busted-up face is good enough to confess to my master?”

“You’re just her landlord. Where do you get off acting like you speak for her? Standing there all smug, flashing a few bills—what, you think money makes you royalty?”

Little Xiang:
Ugly toads, freaks, all of you—get lost. Don’t you dare touch my beloved master.