QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 244: Safe haven

Chapter 244

Felix

"Why so sad?"

The voice drifts like music, soft, lodic—one I could recognize even with my eyes closed.

Edith.

"Miss Edith," I acknowledge without turning, my gaze fixed elsewhere. My arms are folded, my back pressed against the cold marble pillar of the hall.

Across the courtyard, Poppy laughs. Laughs—with him.

That bastard hands her a flower. She plucks a petal with delicate fingers, pops it into her mouth, then giggles when he copies her. They look ridiculous. Sweet. Intimate. My chest tightens painfully, a sour heat rising up my throat.

I scoff, bitter.

I told myself I’d co to wish her a happy birthday. Even after how things ended. Even after the walls she put between us. So stubborn part of still wanted to give her that much.

But she’s smiling at him. Not .

"Ah, the Longear," Edith says lightly, her green eyes following my line of sight.

"I take it you’ve heard," I mutter, jaw tightening.

"One or two things." She tilts her head, lips curving faintly. "And you’re not helping matters by standing here brooding, Your Highness."

Her tone is gentle but firm, and it makes exhale through my nose, frustrated.

"It’s just—" I begin, but the words falter. What am I supposed to say? That it feels like the world tilts every ti I see her with soone else? That I can’t reconcile the girl who once clung to with the one laughing with another man?

"Co with ," Edith interrupts smoothly.

Before I can protest, her fingers curl around my wrist. Warm. Steady. She tugs—not forcefully, but decisively, as if she already knows I’ll follow.

I hesitate. My eyes flick once more toward Poppy, still radiant, still out of reach.

Then I let Edith pull away.

Her perfu lingers in the air, sothing sweet but sharp, cutting through the ache in my chest. For the first ti all afternoon, my shoulders ease,just slightly.

*

"Here, a drink." She offers a glass of wine, her slender fingers brushing mine as she hands it over.

I don’t even hesitate. I down it in one go, the bitter tang burning down my throat.

"Okayyy," she drawls, amused, plucking the glass back before I can demand another. She sets it on the low table and sinks gracefully into the couch beside .

I groan softly and rake both hands through my hair, tugging at the roots like it might quiet the noise in my head.

"Everyone tells I should move on," I mutter, staring at nothing. "But they don’t understand—I just can’t—"

"I get it," Edith interrupts smoothly. No judgnt. No hollow comfort. Just calm, steady agreent.

The sound grates and soothes all at once. I scoff, unable to form an answer.

Her voice softens, deliberate. "I didn’t know you before. Not really. But from what I’ve seen... from the little pieces I’ve gathered..." She tilts her head, watching with those sharp green eyes.

"I think I know why you can’t let her go."

Sothing in her tone makes glance at her, wary. "Oh?"

She doesn’t flinch under my stare. Instead, she smiles faintly, her lips curving as if she’s already inside my thoughts.

"Yes," Edith says, her tone velvet but cutting. "Apparently before being Felix Leonhart, you were Felix Longear. And no matter how hard you try to act otherwise, you’re not just Felix Leonhart—you are Felix Longear, Your Highness."

The words make freeze.

My jaw tightens. "What does that have to do with Poppy?" I snap, irritation curling hot in my chest.

Her hand slides lightly across my chest, pressing over my heart. "Because Felix Longear that part of you still in here still cares for her."

The weight of her touch burns through the fabric of my shirt. I exhale hard and lean back against the chair, the plush cushions swallowing whole.

"I do," I admit, voice gritted between my teeth. "I wish she understood that."

Edith hums, a low thoughtful sound, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

"Hmnn."

My brows knit. "What?"

"Nothing." She twirls a lock of golden hair around her finger, feigning carelessness.

My temper spikes. "What?" I press, sharper this ti.

She repeats, voice lilting with deliberate provocation. "What?"

"Just say it," I snap, irritation cracking through the mask I wear.

She sighs, long and heavy, before finally eting my gaze.

"You’re not being fair to her," Edith says at last, voice calm but firm.

The words sting more than I expect.

Not being fair?

To Poppy?

"What? No?" I snap, defensive, my voice sharper than I intended.

Edith sighs, looking away as though she regrets opening her mouth. "This is why I didn’t want to say anything."

"Spit it out," I bite, irritation curling in my gut.

Her lashes lower, then lift, and her voice is calm when she speaks again. "That Longear fell in love with a Longear. You are not the person she likes anymore. It isn’t fair to her if you keep acting like this."

My hands curl into fists. "I didn’t ask for this either!"

"Well," she says evenly, "neither did she."

The words slam into harder than any sword strike. My mouth opens, then shuts. For once, I don’t have an answer.

The silence stretches.

I exhale, slumping back against the cushions, the fight draining out of . "...I’m so lost." My voice cracks, raw, unpolished. "I’m struggling on a raft in a raging sea with nothing to hold onto. One day my entire life changed, and ever since, I’ve been drowning in everyone’s expectations. My grandfather, the council, the students, even those girls... they all want sothing from . They admire , but it’s not they admire—it’s the version they’ve built in their heads. The perfect prince."

My throat closes. I force the words out anyway. "Only Poppy was..."

"Your safe haven," Edith finishes for , her voice so soft it makes my chest ache.

"Yeah," I whisper. "She was the only one who felt real."

Her eyes narrow with quiet sympathy. "And what about her, Your Highness? Who was going to be her safe haven? You had your storm. But she would’ve been tossed into it with no shield, no family, no power. Just you. You’d have condemned her to a life of being broken apart by forces she couldn’t fight."

"I—" My voice falters.

She’s right. Gods, she’s right. I never thought it through. Not once. Poppy would’ve had no friends, no backing, no allies at court. Just . And I couldn’t even promise I’d be enough.

A groan tears from my throat, and I bury my face in my hands.

That’s when I feel it—fingers, soft and deliberate, threading into my hair. Stroking gently, like I’m not the heir, not the prince, not the lion who’s supposed to be unshakable. Just a boy who’s lost.

The sound that leaves is half a laugh, half a broken sob.