Your Names

The air was thick with a complex mix of earth, sweat, and a faint whiff of sulfur—the scent of common demon folk.

All eyes were fixed on the graceful figures at the front.

Succubi.

They strained to suppress their innate, blood-born allure, shedding the iconic attire of their kind to minimize distractions.

Clad in high-collared, dark robes with tight cuffs and plain leather boots wrapping their calves, their usually flowing hair was tightly bound and secured with simple wooden pins.

The outfit was unprecedented, so stiff it robbed them of some of their natural elegance.

The sight of these succubi, earnestly dressed to dampen their charm, left the crowd exchanging bewildered glances.

Even the succubi themselves found it surreal.

Succubi were highborn demons, their status unquestioned in the demon hierarchy.

At the bottom were mindless beasts, known as demonic creatures; above them, low-intelligence, beastly demons; then lowborn demons with human-like intellect but weak mana and harsh lives; and finally,

the highborn—noble-blooded demons like lords and succubi, gifted with potent mana, unique talents, and deep magical legacies.

Their innate charm, intellect, and inherited magical knowledge marked them as elites.

In other words, while succubi were naturally alluring, often wearing little to flaunt their power and sensuality, they were aristocratic, serving only lords or Demon Lords directly, their status akin to revered

mages.

And now, they were teaching common demons to read and write!

Though it was a direct order from the Demon Lord, many succubi were dazed, grappling with unease and resistance.

They were born mages and diplomats, weavers of intrigue and desire.

Their lives revolved around serving in lords’ manors, handling sensitive tasks, executing special missions for the Demon Lord, or mingling at high-society banquets.

When had their attire ever been so conservative?

When had their duties involved something as mundane as “teaching”?

Even when their roles demanded seduction, intelligence-gathering, or intimate negotiations, they saw it as a display of power, an application of their gifts, even relishing the control it afforded.

But teaching a minotaur to write their name?

Instructing calloused, hammer-wielding, plow-pushing demons to read?

Utterly absurd.

Yet they had sworn absolute loyalty to Vivian, the Demon Lord of Evernight.

Without her direct command, these proud succubi would have walked away.

Their hearts churned with resistance, not just from the restrictive clothing but from the profound clash of identity and confusion over the task itself.

Many young succubi exchanged glances, their eyes screaming, *Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?*

As for the demon “students”…

“Am I seeing things? Is that really…?”

“Look! It’s the succubus ladies teaching us!”

“It’s really them…”

“The Demon Lord ordered us to study, but… why them?”

“What can they teach? Unless…”

“Oi, shut it! Don’t disrespect them!”

The commoners buzzed with chatter, staring at the succubi preparing to teach.

Already shocked by the Demon Lord’s mandate to spend an hour of rest learning to read, they were floored to see succubi as their instructors.

“Ow!”

A soldier on a stump pinched his thigh, wincing in pain as his companions snickered.

“Damn… it’s not a dream!”

Luna stood at the front, palms slightly sweaty but striving to keep her voice clear and steady.

“Everyone, quiet! I’m your teacher, Luna! First, let me make one thing clear: per the Demon Lord’s orders, you’re learning today not for anyone else, but for yourselves!”

“For ourselves?”

Puzzled murmurs rose from the crowd.

“The Demon Lord has declared that Evernight Territory will be rebuilt! A new Evernight City is rising!”

“In this new order, all rewards, decrees, and announcements—wages, resource allocations, merits, and promotions—will be posted publicly in writing, visible to all! At the palace gates, city gates, and the

new market!”

“What does that mean?”

Her tone sharpened as she scanned the crowd.

“It means if you can’t read the notices, you’ll miss out!”

The shed fell silent, heavy with uncertainty.

Then, a strange wave of sound began to ripple through.

It started with a few bold voices.

“Name…”

More joined in, and soon a scattered, uneven chorus of voices, laced with odd accents, echoed.

“Name—”

“Name—”

“Name—”

“Life—”

A minotaur’s heavy nasal attempt.

A hesitant dog-headed demon’s try.

“Looo—”

A young female demon’s effort.

The crowd before Luna was a diverse mix: calloused minotaur farmers with bark-like skin; cave demons dusted with stone powder, muscles knotted; dog-headed demons and goblins marked by soot; and

curious yet timid young demon soldiers, cramped on their stumps like bears in tiny cages.

An old minotaur in the front, after reciting, chuckled sheepishly, showing a half-missing tooth.

Others exchanged glances, many laughing awkwardly.

Luna’s heart wavered—this was nothing like chanting elegant, mind-bending spells in demonic script!

But recalling Vivian’s unyielding command, she pressed on.

“Good! Now, look at my slate! This is the character for ‘name’!”

“Then, this is the character that follows ‘name’!”

She explained each basic character’s meaning as simply as possible.

Some students looked blank, others nodded thoughtfully.

The first day’s goal was modest: spark interest in literacy and teach them to write their names.

Luna wrote common demon names—Jack, Tom, William, John for males; Emma, Sophia, Mia for females—to quickly engage most of them with their own names.

Surprisingly, most demons listened attentively, drawn by the succubi’s natural, subtle mana fluctuations that captivated lower-tier beings, even in their modest attire.

This was one reason Vivian chose them as initial literacy teachers: smart, knowledgeable, and effortlessly attention-grabbing.

“These are common names. I’ve read their pronunciations and shown how to write them. If your name is here, practice writing it!”

After listing several names and their forms, Luna took a deep breath and addressed her students.

Those who found their names began clumsily practicing with their tools, stroke by stroke.

At that moment, a young horned demon girl timidly raised her hand.

“Teacher Luna, my name isn’t up there… how do I write it?”

Luna’s spirits lifted—this was the entry point Vivian’s manual emphasized.

She approached the girl, asking gently, “What’s your name?”

“I-I’m Lace…”

The girl’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Hm, Lace—a bit complex. Watch closely.”

Luna knelt, writing two clear characters on Lace’s slate with her white stone: *Lace*.

Her movements were slow, ensuring Lace and those nearby could see.

“There, that’s ‘Lace’! Your name!”

Luna pointed at the slate with a smile.

Lace’s eyes widened, her mouth agape, as a spark of disbelief lit her gaze.

She reached out with dirty fingers, touching the white marks with near-reverent care, as if brushing a precious dream.

‘This… this is me? “Lace”?’

The girl murmured, her voice tinged with joy.

Others craned their necks to see.

The act of Luna writing Lace’s name, stroke by stroke, materialized on the slate was a profound shock to those unfamiliar with writing—a magnetic pull.

‘My name can be drawn like that? Those scribbles match what we call ourselves?’

‘Is that… proof of my existence? A mark I can leave?’

Thoughts swirled in their minds.

“Yes, that’s you!”

Luna nodded firmly, her voice catching a hint of excitement.

“Now, pick up your stone and follow my strokes. First one like this…”

“Teach me, Teacher Luna! How do I write my name?”

“Me too! I’m Grum…”

“Check mine! Is my John right?”

A wave of eager requests surged toward Luna and the other succubi teachers, engulfing them.

The lesson continued amid chaos—some snapped their stone sticks, others smeared their slates, and odd pronunciations sparked laughter.

Yet, despite the stumbles, the first literacy class began.

The succubi wove through the “students,” bending to correct postures, repeating sounds and strokes with patience.

They wielded not charm magic but an “enlightenment magic” requiring immense focus.

Luna began to grasp Vivian’s vision, finding unexpected joy in teaching others to read.

Meanwhile, Vivian stood on a makeshift lookout platform, cloaked in shadow, observing the “learning zone” lit by faint glowing orbs of magic.

Noisy, clumsy, even chaotic, but a new vitality was taking root.

When the first artisan could read blueprints, the first farmer could record fertilizer effects, or the first person could write their ideas… that would mark the dawn of a demon “industrial revolution.”

The results were promising, but Vivian knew this was merely the first flicker of a flame.

Textbooks needed updates, teaching methods refinement, and motivating adults to learn required strategy.

A higher education system was distant, and resistance loomed—complaints about lost rest, claims of uselessness, or traditionalists decrying her “disruption of order” and waste of labor.

Yet, hearing the scratch of slates and clumsy recitations, Vivian felt a deeper satisfaction than seeing new walls rise.

The bricks of a new home were being laid, but the foundation of demon civilization—this spark would shake old hierarchies and birth the embryo of a true demon industrial age!

More fulfilling than new walls or armories, this was the cornerstone of the future.

Knowledge and thought had finally left their first mark in the land of eternal night.

“The road is long,” she murmured, watching the struggling learners, “but it starts with knowing your name.”

The light spilling from the “classroom” sheds and the unpolished, lively sounds of study became a new, wondrous “sight” in the reborn Evernight City.