QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 343: Complicated thoughts

Chapter 344

Elliot

I look at my face in the bathroom mirror. The bruises are fading now—yellow at the edges, purple in the center, like overripe fruit. I touch them lightly, wincing. Still tender.

I got back to my job at the cafe this week. Mr. Chen was kind about it, didn’t ask too many questions, just put on light duty and slipped extra pastries at the end of my shift.

The regulars whisper when they think I can’t hear. Poor thing. Did you hear what happened? Attacked in the street, can you imagine?

I smile through it. That’s what I’m good at.

Unfortunately, Dr. Wang has been too close lately. He shows up at the cafe during my breaks. He texts every few hours, checking in, asking where I am, who I’m with. His concern is suffocating.

I don’t want to push him away. Yet I don’t want to reject him either.

Without him, I’m just an Oga with a high school education and a brother to support. With him, I have options. A future. Safety.

But I can’t breathe when he’s around.

Damien hasn’t been contacting . He sent a ssage yesterday—I’m sorry. Father needs to focus on the campaign. I’ll explain when things calm down—and I didn’t respond. I don’t know what I’d say anyway. It’s fine?. I understand? I’ll wait?

I’m glad for the ti to myself.

Sothing is up with Charles and Elijah. Those guys hate each other—have hated each other for years. But recently, sothing’s shifted.

I can’t put my finger on it. Just... alarm bells. Whispers I can’t quite hear.

Whatever is going on, I don’t want to know.

*

I get off work at six. The sky is gray, threatening rain, and I decide to walk instead of taking the bus. I need to think. Need to be alone.

I don’t notice where my legs are taking .

By the ti I realize, I’m standing outside the shelter Daphne opened. The Haven. I’ve been here before—to volunteer, mostly, helping with the children, sorting donations. The guards know now, wave through with a nod.

I don’t know how I got here.

I walk through the courtyard, past the garden where Daphne played with children on her shoulders.

Inside, the shelter is warm. Babies cry. Ogas sit in clusters, so with swollen bellies, so with hollow eyes. A volunteer is handing out blankets. A social worker is talking to a girl who can’t be older than sixteen.

I find a corner, sit down, watch.

There’s a woman near the window, maybe a few years older than . Her belly is huge, her face thin. She’s holding a photograph, her thumb tracing the edges. I can’t see who’s in it.

Next to her, a girl with a baby on her hip is telling a story about sothing funny that happened at the grocery store. The pregnant woman laughs. It’s a small sound, but real.

I look at them and I make a promise to myself.

This will never be .

I’m different.

I will never be trapped. I will never be alone with a child I can’t support, a body that betrayed , a future I didn’t choose.

I will never be one of the Ogas who co here with nothing, hoping for a bed and a al and soone to tell them it’ll be okay.

I will always have an Alpha. I will always have options. I will always be wanted.

The thought settles in my chest like a stone.

Just then, a commotion ripples through the shelter. Heads turn. Whispers start. I look up, following the current of attention to the doorway.

It’s her.

Daphne walks in like she owns the place—she does, technically—but it’s more than that. She moves through the room like she belongs here, like this is where she’s supposed to be. She kneels beside a pregnant Oga who’s crying, takes her hands, speaks too low for to hear. The woman nods, wipes her face, almost smiles.

Daphne moves to the next. And the next.

She greets everyone. Every single person in this room gets a mont of her attention. A touch. A word. A look that says I see you. You matter.

My chest tightens.

She’s almost done now, moving toward the exit. She pauses at the door, and for a mont, her eyes find mine.

Just a second. Just long enough.

Then she’s gone.

I don’t think. I just move.

I push through the crowd, past the volunteers and the social workers and the won with their babies. Soone calls my na. I don’t stop.

She’s at the gate when I catch her, her hand on the handle, her coat pulled tight against the rain.

"Wait." My voice cos out breathless. "Daphne."

She turns. The rain is falling harder now, catching in her hair, darkening the shoulders of her coat. For a mont, she just looks at . Waiting.

"Ah... Elliot." Her voice is polite. Distant. "I don’t recall us being on a first na basis."

The words land like a slap. My face heats. I clutch the sleeves of my hoodie, twisting the fabric between my fingers.

"My apologies, Miss Han." I make myself say it. Make myself small. Contrite.

She sighs. Sothing in her expression shifts. Not softening exactly, but... sothing.

"May I help you?"

She’s going to leave. I can feel it. In a mont, she’ll turn away, walk back into the rain, and I’ll be standing here with nothing but the mory of her looking at .

"I would like a mont of your ti." The words co out too fast. Desperate. I can’t help it.

She studies . I let her. I stand there in the rain, clutching my hoodie, letting her see whatever she needs to see.

"Five minutes," she says finally.

She leads to a small office near the back. Quiet. Away from the noise of the main room. There’s a desk, a filing cabinet, a window that looks out at the garden.

She closes the door behind us.

"Sit."

I sit.

She doesn’t. She leans against the desk, arms crossed, watching with those dark eyes that see too much.

"Five minutes," she says. "Starting now."