The Incubus System Chapter 897. Don't Blame Me For That

The Incubus System Chapter 897. Don't Blame Me For That

Most news channels seemed to be fixated on the same topic—the aftermath of Beel's attack. They would cycle through the same repetitive discussions, inviting experts and analysts to dissect the events and speculate on the implications for human-demon relations. It all sounded dreadfully monotonous to me.

The pundits would drone on about theories regarding the widening chasm between the human and demon worlds, dissecting every aspect of the conflict with tedious precision. They would scrutinize every detail, from the motives of the demons to the response of the human authorities, in a never-ending quest for understanding.

To make matters worse, some politicians saw the attack as an opportunity to score political points. They would grandstand on television, using the tragedy as a platform to bolster their own reputations and advance their agendas. It was a shameless display of opportunism that left a sour taste in my mouth.

My eyes fixed on the screen as the sitcom played out before me for a couple of minutes before I felt the weight of their gazes on me, heavy with concern and curiosity. Celia, Foxy, and the others were all looking at me, their expressions a mix of confusion and sympathy. With a sigh, I tore my eyes away from the television screen and glanced at each of them in turn, a frown creasing my forehead.

"What?" I asked, my tone slightly defensive. It wasn't often that I found myself in such a somber mood, and their scrutiny only served to amplify my irritation.

Foxy was the first to speak up, her voice soft and tentative. "It's just... we rarely see you upset over something like this," she said, her words laced with concern.

"Yeah," Red chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Usually, it's all about fighting demons, dealing with cracks, or going head-to-head with demon lords. You know, the usual stuff that gets you riled up."

Celia nodded in solidarity, her expression reflecting Foxy's sentiments. "And don't forget about your frustration with the demon’s politics," she added, her voice tinged with empathy.

Foxy interjected, her tone gentle but probing. "But this is the first time I've seen you disappointed because of something you had predicted," she remarked, her eyes searching mine for answers.

I glanced over at Foxy, my expression still clouded with frustration. "Don't blame me for that, blame the system's announcement," I muttered, a frown deepening on my forehead. A huff escaped my lips, my irritation palpable.

"I mean, I expected nothing," I continued, my tone laced with exasperation. "But when I saw the announcement, I was like 'YES, IT WORKED!'" My voice trailed off, my irritation evident as I recalled the fleeting moment of hope that had quickly turned to disappointment.

Sulking slightly, I felt my annoyance reflected in my expression, my face contorted into a scowl as I stared fixedly at the television screen. It was as if my disappointment had been etched into my features, my frustration impossible to conceal.

Celia attempted to lift my spirits with a small offering. "You know," she began, her voice gentle and reassuring, "I can make you your favorite fried rice."

My ears perked up at the mention of my favorite food, a spark of interest flickering in my eyes. Turning to Celia, I met her gaze and nodded eagerly. "With eggs and sausage, okay?" I added, attempting to negotiate the terms of my culinary delight.

Celia's smile widened at my request, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she nodded in agreement. "Deal," she replied, her tone cheerful. "Just wait a minute."

Celia disappeared into the kitchen with Foxy in tow. I remained in the living room, still fixated on the television screen. Despite my attempts to distract myself with the sitcom playing before me, my thoughts kept drifting back to the tantalizing prospect of Celia's fried rice.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within me as I waited eagerly for the delicious meal to be prepared. It was a simple gesture, I knew, but one that held the promise of comfort and familiarity in the midst of my frustration.

My excitement for the impending meal felt almost childlike, a reminder of the small joys that could brighten even the gloomiest of days. Despite my initial reluctance to admit it, I found myself appreciating the gesture more than I had anticipated, grateful for the effort Celia was making to lift my spirits.

"So, what are your next plans? Shall we hunt as usual and visit the people on the list?” Shadow's question broke the silence that had settled in the room, prompting me to consider our next course of action. His tail swayed leisurely beside me.

"Yeah, hunting sounds like a plan," I replied, my tone tinged with resignation. It wasn't the most exciting prospect, but it was a familiar routine that offered some semblance of purpose in the face of recent setbacks.

The mention of visiting the individuals on our list brought a new wave of thoughts crashing into my mind. I couldn't shake the nagging curiosity about whether the heads of state were privy to the identities of the demon hunter senators in their respective countries. It was a question that had been lingering in the back of my mind for some time now, and I couldn't resist voicing it aloud.

"I wonder if the head of state of each country knows the identity of the demon hunter's senator in their country, tho," I mused, my brow furrowing in contemplation. It was a crucial piece of information that could potentially shed light on the extent of the organization's influence and reach.

Rave, who had taken up a perch behind the sofa, chimed in with his own suggestion. His voice held a hint of curiosity, his wings rustling softly as he spoke.

"Do you want to try it?" he asked, his gaze fixed on me expectantly.

I considered his proposal for a moment before responding. "After we investigate the people on the list," I decided, my tone firm. It was important to prioritize our current objectives before delving into new territory. After all, there were still plenty of loose ends to tie up before we could entertain the idea of probing into the higher echelons of power.