I made my way back through the winding streets of New London, my gathering task complete. The spatial ring Lilith gave me proved invaluable - storing an entire basket of herbs without adding an ounce of weight to carry.

The city sprawled around me in all its peculiar glory. Horse-drawn carriages clattered past on cobblestone streets, their wheels kicking up wisps of steam from the grates below. But these weren't ordinary carriages - brass pipes and gauges adorned their frames, pressure valves hissing rhythmically.

A four-legged automaton lumbered past, its mechanical legs moving with surprising grace. Steam puffed from vents along its brass-plated sides as it carried cargo through the streets. The sight made me pause. Back on Earth, we'd focused on making machines more human-like. Here, they'd gone in an entirely different direction.

A woman walked past with a clockwork arm, the brass fingers moving with perfect precision as she checked her mechanical pocket watch. The prosthetic whirred softly with each movement, far more advanced than anything I'd seen in my old life, yet somehow less sophisticated than modern robotics.

Lost in my observations of this strange world, I didn't notice the person in front of me until it was too late. We collided hard, and he tumbled to the ground, sending papers flying everywhere.

"I'm so sorry!" I knelt down to help gather the scattered papers. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No, no, it's entirely my fault, miss." The young man scrambled to collect his letters, his cheeks flushing pink. "I was rushing to finish my route."

As we picked up the papers together, I noticed his uniform - a mailman's outfit with brass buttons and the postal service insignia. He couldn't have been more than nineteen, and every time his eyes accidentally met mine, he'd quickly look away, his blush deepening.

I glanced down at my outfit and understood why. The neckline of my dress, while nothing shocking by modern standards, was practically scandalous in this Victorian-inspired world. No wonder the poor mailman was flustered - he probably wasn't used to seeing anything more revealing than high collars and long sleeves.

I paused for a moment, letters in hand, wondering if I should just apologize again and leave him to it. But something about his awkward demeanour brought back memories of being a teenage boy myself, trying desperately not to stare at pretty girls while simultaneously wanting nothing more than to look.

The familiarity of the situation almost made me laugh. Here I was, on the other side of that equation now. Well, no point making a fuss about it - the damage was already done, and it wasn't like I could conjure up a more modest outfit in the middle of the street.

"Here you go," I handed him another stack of recovered letters, finding his bashfulness rather endearing from my unique perspective.

"I'm Arthur. Arthur Thompson," he said, finally finding his voice as we finished gathering the scattered mail. His hands fidgeted with the leather strap of his messenger bag.

"I'm Lily," I replied, the name still feeling foreign on my tongue despite using it for weeks now. Even after all this time in Hell, introducing myself with a woman's name gave me pause. "And please, don't worry about it. These things happen."

Arthur straightened his brass-buttoned uniform, trying to regain his composure. "Thank you for helping me pick everything up, Miss Lily. I really should be more careful, especially with people's mail."

"I should be going too," I said, brushing off my skirt. "My friends are waiting for me, and I'm already running late."

"Of course, don't let me keep you." Arthur stepped aside, clutching his recovered letters to his chest. "Have a good evening, Miss Lily."

"Good luck with your deliveries, Arthur." I gave him a small wave and continued down the cobblestone street.

As I walked away, I caught the reflection in a shop window - Arthur had turned to watch me go, his face still tinted pink. The sight stirred something oddly familiar - how many times had I done the same thing as Liam, stealing one last look at a pretty girl walking away?

I paused mid-step, a troubling thought crossing my mind. Had I really been so understanding of Arthur's awkwardness because of my past as Liam? Or was it something else entirely?

My succubus senses had picked up every quickened heartbeat, every heated flush of his skin. Each time he'd averted his gaze, my body had responded instinctively. Looking back, I realized my movements hadn't been innocent at all - the way I'd bent to gather those letters, how I'd brushed my skirt, even that final wave. Every gesture had been calculated to draw his eye, to provoke a reaction.

The strange part was how natural it had felt. Understanding his perspective as a young man had made the whole interaction seem innocent, almost playful. That familiarity had masked the predatory nature of my actions.

Now, with distance between us, I could see clearly what had happened. I'd unconsciously slipped into seduction mode with that poor mailman. The old Liam would have been mortified at the thought of trying to seduce another man.

But I felt... nothing. No shame. No disgust. Not even concern. It was as if my mind had already categorized the encounter as completely unremarkable. After all, I hadn't actually done anything beyond some mild flirtation. Why waste energy feeling guilty about it?

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

That casual dismissal of what should have been a crisis of identity worried me more than the actual seduction attempt. When had I started thinking like this?

I found Aria and Isabella waiting at our designated meeting spot - a small pub tucked away in one of New London's quieter districts. The establishment's brass fixtures gleamed in the fading daylight, steam curling from pipes that snaked across its facade.

"Got everything?" Isabella examined the fungi Aria had collected from the factory district's damp corners.

"Naturally." Aria grinned, displaying her finds. "Those factory workers barely noticed me slipping past. And you?"

Isabella produced a pouch of crystallized minerals. "The underground tunnels were quite accommodating. Though I had to dodge a few maintenance crews."

I retrieved the herbs from my ring, spreading them across our table. "That's all of them then. We've finished well ahead of schedule."

"Perfect!" Aria's eyes lit up with that familiar mischievous gleam. "That means we can sample some of the local entertainment. I spotted this delightful gentleman's club earlier-"

"We should contact Professor Auriel first," I interjected. "Make sure we've gathered everything correctly."

Isabella nodded. "Agreed. Better to verify now than find out we missed something crucial tomorrow morning."

"Oh come on!" Aria pouted. "You don't think the Professor will try to stop us from having a little fun, do you? I mean, she's a former angel and all..."

Isabella's laugh echoed through the pub. "Trust me, you have nothing to worry about there. Fallen angels might be more uptight about some things, but they understand our nature better than most. They've seen enough of both heaven and hell to know how things work."

"Really?" Aria perked up.

"Of course. They rejected heaven's rigid rules for a reason. Besides, Professor Auriel teaches at a succubus academy. She knows exactly what her students get up to after hours."

I carefully tucked the brass pendant into my ring after Professor Auriel's face faded from its surface. Her instructions had been clear - she'd arranged rooms for us at the Golden Chalice Hotel where she'd inspect our gathered ingredients.

"Finally!" Aria bounced on her heels. "The Golden Chalice! That sounds absolutely divine."

"It's just a hotel," Isabella remarked, though I caught the slight curl of amusement at her lips.

"A fancy hotel," Aria corrected. "Which means fancy amenities, fancy food, fancy-"

The pub's door creaked open, and Arthur stepped in, his mailbag still slung over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he spotted me, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

"Oh! Miss... um, hello again."

Aria's eyebrows shot up as she glanced between us. "Well, well. You didn't waste any time finding company, did you?"

"It's not like that," I protested, feeling heat rise to my own face. "We literally bumped into each other while I was walking down the street earlier."

"That's right," Arthur nodded quickly, his blush deepening. "I was delivering mail and wasn't watching where I was going. She helped me pick up the scattered letters."

"Mhm." Aria's knowing smirk made me want to sink into the floor. "Just a chance encounter then?"

I wanted to disappear as Aria's teasing grin grew wider. My face felt hot enough to melt steel, and Arthur's awkwardness wasn't helping matters.

"So Arthur," Aria purred, sidling closer to him. "What brings a handsome mailman like yourself to this establishment?"

"I-I'm just finishing my route," he stammered, clutching his mailbag like a shield. "The pub's my last stop before heading back to my boarding house on Mason Street."

Isabella's predatory gaze swept over Arthur's form, and I caught the slight nod of approval. Great, now both of them were interested in him. The poor man didn't stand a chance.

"Mason Street?" Aria's eyes lit up. "How delightful! We might be neighbours soon. We're staying nearby ourselves."

I tugged at Aria's sleeve. "We should really get going-"

"Oh, but we haven't properly introduced ourselves!" Aria protested, extending her hand to Arthur. "I'm Aria, and this is Isabella. And I see you've already met our lovely Lily."

Arthur's blush deepened as he shook her hand. "P-pleased to meet you ladies. I... I should probably finish my deliveries."

"Of course," Aria smiled sweetly. "Though I'm sure we'll run into each other again, being neighbours and all."

I practically dragged Aria toward the door, muttering hasty goodbyes. Isabella followed with silent amusement, while Aria waved cheerfully at Arthur.

"Twenty-Three Mason Street, room twelve!" Arthur called after us, then immediately looked mortified that he'd shared that information.

We arrived at the Golden Chalice Hotel, its polished brass fixtures gleaming in the gaslight. Professor Auriel stood in the marble-floored lobby, her glamour perfectly masking her fallen angel nature.

"Third group to finish," she noted with approval. "Well done. Your rooms are ready on the second floor."

She handed us brass keys, her golden eyes scanning each of us. "While you're free to enjoy the evening, keep any... activities outside the hotel premises. We don't want to draw unnecessary attention."

"Of course, Professor." Isabella accepted her key with practiced grace.

"Speaking of activities," Aria piped up, twirling her key between her fingers. "That mailman seemed quite taken with our Lily here."

I shot her a warning look. "Aria..."

"What? I saw how he blushed. Twenty-Three Mason Street, wasn't it?"

"Room twelve," Isabella added, surprising me with her interest. Her usual composed demeanor cracked slightly as she smiled. "He did seem... appetizing."

"Not you too," I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples.

Professor Auriel cleared her throat. "Remember my warning about discretion."

"Yes, Professor," we chorused.

After she left, Aria nudged my shoulder. "Come on, Lily. Even Isabella's curious about your little mailman."

I looked at Isabella, who maintained her dignified pose but couldn't quite hide the hungry glint in her eyes. Despite her noble bearing and careful control, she was still very much a succubus. I sighed heavily.

"Look, he's just one mortal. He couldn't possibly handle three succubi at once."

"Is that concern for him I detect?" Aria teased. "How thoughtful of you."

"I'm merely being practical," I protested. "Besides, we promised Professor Auriel we'd be discrete."

"Visiting a friend is perfectly discrete," Isabella countered with a slight smirk.

I let out a resigned sigh. "Fine. But we need to be extremely careful."

"Of course," Aria bounced excitedly. "No killing, right? Just a little fun."

Isabella's ice-blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "I assure you, I have perfect control over my appetite."

The cobblestone streets were mostly empty as we made our way through the gas-lit neighborhood. Steam vents hissed in the background, creating an eerie atmosphere. The walk to Mason Street took less than fifteen minutes.

My heart raced as we climbed the narrow stairwell of the boarding house. The wooden steps creaked under our feet until we reached the second floor. Room twelve's door stood before us, paint peeling at the corners.

Aria raised her delicate hand and knocked three times.

That's when it hit me. The sounds from inside - multiple voices, movement, laughter. My enhanced hearing picked up at least three distinct male voices.

My stomach dropped as the realization struck. Arthur had mentioned room twelve, but never said he lived alone. Of course he wouldn't - a young mailman could hardly afford private lodging in New London.

Heavy footsteps approached the door. I gulped, suddenly very aware of what I'd gotten us into. Three succubi and three men in one small room. There was no way this would end with innocent conversation.