At this moment, Murphy, the unwitting victim of a severe case of social anxiety, remained unaware that his towering and reliable image had completely crumbled in the minds of his mischievous followers. He was busy acting as an interviewer to a few succubi candidates.
The five succubi standing before Murphy were among those who had failed to secure a spot at Warm Glow Hot Springs during the last audition.
Keen not to bruise their delicate egos, Murphy had Tyre announce that more opportunities would come their way after the last Warm Glow campaign.
As is commonly acknowledged, there are no unattractive succubi in any world.
The succubi of this world could easily score eight or nine purely based on looks, not to mention the scores would climb higher with their distinct pure aura thrown into the mix.
Hence, the real reason behind these five failing their initial tryout was not a lack of beauty but—a lack of smiles.
After all, what's a Warm Glow Hot Springs without smiles?
Murphy crossed his arms confidently across his chest and asked the five aloof succubi, "Do you always go about with such expressions?"
"Yes, yes, yes, Your Majesty," the lead succubus replied, her head bowed deeply, avoiding any direct gaze.
"And the rest of you? Is this how you normally look, silent and stoic?"
The other succubi, while not as intimidatingly aloof, also had a frosty demeanor as if their mere presence could chill the air.
Observing his audience of ice queens, Murphy said with a smile, "Congratulations, you're all hired."
With a clap of his hands, the veteran succubus tailor, in charge of modifying the dresses, wheeled in a cart laden with elaborate gowns.
Unlike the Warm Glow attire, these gowns were steeped in true succubus tradition, replete with intricate embellishments and soft fabrics, a tribute to the bygone glory days of the succubi.
Although the gowns covered most of the body, paired with the pre-Famine finesse and professional prowess of the succubi, they could still weave through human nobility's balls, coaxing out every critical intelligence willingly.
"Pick your favorites and try them on," Murphy encouraged the freshly selected succubi to sample their new uniforms.
"Your Majesty, everything you requested is here," said the tailor, bowing before preparing to take his leave.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"Wait, don't go yet. There might be adjustments needed after they've tried them on," Murphy instructed.
"Certainly," the tailor nodded, taking a seat behind Murphy, ready to work.
Moments later, the succubi emerged in full attire, expressing their thanks with a curtsey towards Murphy.
"How about a twirl?" Murphy suggested to the girls still getting used to their new outfits.
The succubi on stage began to turn, and after scrutinizing them, Murphy asked the tailor, "What do you think?"
"I see no issues," the tailor honestly replied.
"Don't you think they're lacking something?" Murphy stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Missing something? These dresses are replicas made from our ancestors' left behinds; everything should be intact."
"It's the aura they lack—the ability to hold humans in the palm of their hands. Get it?" Murphy enlightens the tailor.
Warm Glow Hot Springs tended towards the vibrant 'girl-next-door' vibe, and honestly, many folks dug that even if they weren’t into it, it wasn't repulsive.
This new group, however, due to Murphy's desire to target a niche audience, needed more than just a cool demeanor. They needed a charm and confidence to enthrall those humans who crave such allure, avoiding any "Why the long face? Change the channel!" mishaps.
"How do we resolve this?" asked the tailor. "None of the succubi today carry that aura anymore."
Murphy turned and said earnestly, "To fix this, it'll take a touch of your magic."
"I plan on a two-pronged approach. One: they need to really dive into those ancestral skill books. Two: I think we should tweak the dresses a bit."
Murphy picked up a women's gown from the nearby cart and presented it to the tailor, "Look at this piece. In your skillful ancestor's hands, this was a weapon sharper than any sword."
"But look at them," Murphy pointed at the still-spinning beauties, "On them, it's like wrapping up a dumpling, not alluring in the slightest."
"Your Majesty, what's a dumpling?"
"It's a tightly wrapped delicacy from back home. You know which one people eat first? The one that's a bit undone. We need to be that tempting dumpling, short on aura, so we'll make up with attire."
"See this thick fabric at the waist? Might as well wear a 'kick me' sign."
"But Your Majesty, without the thick fabric at the waist, it wouldn't be a dress anymore."
"Stubborn much? I'm not saying remove it—I'm suggesting optimization," Murphy scanned the room, not finding what he wanted, "Do you have any gauze?"
"Yes," replied the tailor, "We bandage the youngsters when they hurt themselves."
"Bring me a piece. Let me explain."
The tailor hurriedly brought back a length of white gauze, which Murphy unfurled, "You consider this a fabric?"
"I do."
Murphy draped the gauze over his eyes, "Can you see my eyes now?"
"I can. Ah, I see what you mean, Your Majesty," the tailor excitedly clapped, "We maintain the style but swap some parts with sheer material, creating that alluring semi-transparent dumpling."
"Exactly, you're a bright one," Murphy said, smiling, "As a reward, let me share a secret recipe."
He whispered in the tailor's ear, "Ever heard of lace?"
Moments later, the tailor was practically kneeling in worship, "Your Majesty, please allow me to call you master!"
"I accept, now get to work, can't wait to see what you come up with," Murphy beamed.
The tailor whisked the dress cart back to his workshop, while Murphy, gazing at the dizzily twirling succubi, sighed, "Enough spinning, look at me."
It took a moment for the girls to regain their bearings, all turning to face Murphy at last.
"I hereby declare the formation of our second succubus troupe, with you five as its members. The name will be..." pondering for a brief moment, "Crystals of Summer."