QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 203: Boredom

Chapter 203 – Felix

The room is quieter than it should be.

Everyone’s on edge in the student council chamber, stealing glances at the girl lounging in the corner like she owns the place—or doesn’t care who does. Probably both.

I scan the room. No one wants to address her. Of course they don’t. She’s not like the rest of us. Not anymore.

I clear my throat, the sound sharp against the thick silence.

Her eyes flick to .

Yellow. Cool and lazy, like a cat watching sothing it might eat later.

I force a smile. "Miss Nyxclaw."

"Please," she says, voice amused, "call Daphne."

There’s a mouse on her hands. A real one. She lets it run across her knuckles like it’s a toy, utterly unbothered by the tension bleeding into every corner of the room.

I hesitate. "We were just—uh—finalizing the student council vote. Are you... not interested?"

The last ti I saw her was the end of the academic year. She kept to herself, back then. Still unapproachable, but now?

Now there’s a weight to her aura, like it presses on your skin. She tilts her head, tail curling like a slow trono.

"Was I interested last year?" she asks.

"No," I admit, quietly.

"Then I’m not interested this year either. I only ca because it gave an excuse to skip class."

A few chuckles echo awkwardly, but no one dares to agree out loud.

"We just thought," I begin again, "since you’ve... changed—"

Her gaze sharpens.

"Surely my change is less dramatic than yours, Your Highness. Switching from predator to prey, was it?"

The room stills.

My throat tightens, but I say nothing.

Daphne blinks. "Ah, wait. I an prey to predator. Oops." She says it like she just knocked over a teacup.

Then she smiles—lazy, dismissive—and turns back to the mouse now curled peacefully in her palm. Probably dead.

"Don’t mind ," she says lightly. "Carry on."

She’s clearly done with . With all of us.

I sit back down slowly, feeling the warmth of humiliation crawl up the back of my neck like a collar too tight to remove.

***

Daphne

He’s even more of a novice at being a predator than I am.

And I only got thrown into this world three months ago.

Felix Leonhart has had months to adjust, to stretch out his claws, to embrace the so-called instincts his bloodline demands of him. And yet... he still flinched. Still bowed his head like the little herbivore he used to be.

How unfortunate.

Seems like his bunny senses haven’t left him. Not really. You grow up prey, and so things just stick. It’s in the twitch of his ears, the way his eyes widen too easily, the way his shoulders tense before he speaks—as if expecting a blow.

I don’t mind. But I am disappointed.

The rest of the eting drags on, a dull parade of agendas, half-hearted speeches, and underhanded flattery tossed around like stale breadcrumbs. No one makes eye contact with . The bravest steal glances when they think I’m not looking.

I am looking. And it’s hilarious.

They act like I’m about to lunge at any mont. I’m not. Yet.

Eventually, it ends. I stretch with a low, drawn-out yawn and stand. My tail flicks lazily behind .

As I leave the council room, the hallway is crowded with students. Most part instinctively. I spot a boy lingering against a pillar, hugging a stack of books like a shield.

"Hey," I call casually.

He looks around, confused, then points to himself.

I nod. "Yeah. You."

He hesitantly approaches like I’m a ticking trap.

"Here." I hand him the mouse curled in my palm—still and very much dead.

He stares at it. Then at . Like he’s just been chosen as the unwilling protagonist of a very unsettling fairytale.

"It’s a gift," I say dryly, tapping his shoulder before he can ask questions.

He flinches.

"Take care of her, would you?"

He blinks down at it, stunned. It’s the look of soone handed a sacred relic by mistake.

Like a gift from a god he didn’t pray to.

I tap his shoulder gently. "Thanks."

And just like that, I walk away, not bothering to glance back. He’ll figure it out. Or not. Not my problem.

The hall is thick with scent—fur, musk, wildflowers, and bloodlines all competing for attention—but beneath it all, I catch the one I want. Faint. Familiar. Addictive.

My sweet little beloved.

She was here this morning. I saw her. Briefly. A flash of brown ears and panicked flight. Like a dream that darted into the trees before I could reach out and grab it.

But she’s real. That scent is real.

And now... now I want to find her again.

My little blur of fur and fear. That split-second glimpse this morning was enough. Just enough to wake sothing sharp in .

And now?

Now I want to find her again.

Let’s play a ga, sweetheart.

Mouse and cat.

Predator and prey.

I didn’t an to be this version of myself, not really. I wanted to be civil. Maybe even... charming.

But the truth is, I kind of can’t help it.

Believe , I tried. I really did. To act more human. To smile politely. To suppress the way my mind drifts toward blood and bite and chaos when things get too quiet.

It’s not like I was perfectly sane to begin with.

And now? Whatever I used to keep leashed... has been emphasized. Amplified.

I’m impulsive. I don’t do well with boredom. And gods, this world is so boring sotis.

The lectures. The nobles playing pretend hierarchy. The predictable storylines unfolding like bad theatre.

So yes, I could reunite with my beloved in a sane, normal way. I could introduce myself like a civilized person, maybe bring her flowers or sothing equally pathetic.

But where’s the fun in that?

This way... this is much more fun.

Watching her twitch when she feels eyes on her.

The way her scent spikes with wariness—like crushed clover and flint.

That hair-trigger instinct to run.

I don’t want to hurt her. I would never hurt her.

But scare her?

Chase her?

Absolutely.

Maybe I’ll lick the tears off her cheeks, one day.

Press my forehead to hers. Whisper that I’ll never let anything hurt her again—except , in the gentlest, cruelest ways.

Because I know I was made to chase her.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

But she will.