QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 378: Solid ground

Chapter 377:

Daphne

I drop my piece of chicken when the System tells .

The at splats on the deck. A seagull swoops down imdiately, snatching it before I can react.

"The prince and Nancy?" I say out loud. "Already?"

[Yes. Three nights ago. After the Neptune’s Candle incident.]

I stare at the empty space where my chicken used to be.

Damn.

He’s moving fast.

We’ve only been on the water for a month. Just one month. And he’s already slept with two of the three won he’s supposed to end up with.

Well. I pick up my napkin, wipe my hands. I guess the close proximity has helped.

Or maybe it’s the trauma. Shared near-death experiences do tend to bring people together.

We’ll be close soon.

The place known for its rmaid sightings. The place where Caspian is supposed to save the rmaid princess.

How unfair.

I’ve sailed through these waters dozens of tis. Dozens. I’ve scanned the horizon with spyglasses, leaned over the railing at midnight, listened to the songs of whales and the cries of gulls and the whispers of the wind.

I’ve never co across a rmaid.

Not once.

Not even a glimpse.

But the prince will.

I lean against the railing, staring out at the endless blue.

To break the harem, my major goal is to steal the kill from Caspian.

Not the credit. Not the glory. The kill.

If I’m the one who defeats the monster ,if I slay the monster that’s been terrorizing the seas for twenty years,then Caspian won’t be the brave hero who saved his kingdom.

He’ll just be the prince who followed soone else.

Will he still be appealing ?

Will they still fall in love with him if he’s not the hero of the story?

I tap my fingers on the railing.

When we’re close, I’ll go ahead. Leave The Bunny behind, take a smaller vessel, sail straight into the monster’s territory. I’ll find it before Caspian does.

But Nancy.

I frown at the water.

Nancy makes angry.

She’s brilliant. Talented. A master of the stars, a genius with maps.

And she’s wasted on Caspian—on a man who will marry her as a second wife, who will keep her in the background while he parades Marina and the princess in front of the caras.

She deserves better.

I should have a conversation with her.

***

Caspian

I notice another ship.

Not The Bunny—that’s been following us for weeks, a black shadow on the horizon, never close enough to speak, never far enough to forget.

This is different. Smaller. Tucked between two rocky outcroppings, its sails furled, its hull battered by years of salt and storm.

When I ask around, apparently rmaids have been sighted here. In these waters. Around these rocks.

I look at the array of stone formations jutting out of the sea—sharp, jagged, ancient. The water is clear here, clearer than anywhere else we’ve sailed. I can see the sandy bottom, the schools of fish, the coral growing in patches of red and gold.

And an island.

Small. Green. Ringed by a beach of white sand.

The Bunny docks first. I watch from the railing as their crew lowers boats, as n row toward the shore, as they set up a small camp on the beach.

The purple parrot flies from the ship to the shore. It lands on Marina’s shoulder. Hands her a piece of paper.

She reads it. Folds it. Tucks it into her coat.

"Let’s restock on water!" she calls out. "Fresh water, fruit, anything you can find!"

The crew moves.

I clench my fists.

Since the Neptune’s Candle incident, she’s taken over the ship. Her authority overrides mine at every turn. She doesn’t ask for my opinion. Doesn’t wait for my approval. Just acts.

I choose not to think too much about it.

It’s only natural, after all, that the one with more experience takes charge. I’m a prince, not a sailor. I’ve spent my life in court, not on the waves.

She’s a pirate’s daughter.

She knows these waters.

I don’t.

Still.

Still.

I push the thought away.

"The ship will anchor here," I announce. "I’m going ashore."

I climb into a small boat. Take the oars. Row toward the shore.

The water is calm. The sun is warm. The island grows larger with each stroke—the green trees, the white sand, the cliffs rising in the distance.

The boat scrapes against the shore.

I step onto the sand.

Solid ground.

For the first ti in months.

I close my eyes. Breathe in. The air slls like earth, like trees, like life. Not salt. Not brine. Not the endless, hungry sea.

I walk into the forest.

The trees are tall here, their branches woven together like a canopy, filtering the sunlight into soft gold. The ground is soft beneath my boots with moss, fallen leaves.

I bump into a pirate.

He’s broad-shouldered, bearded, his coat dark and worn. He glares at —a quick, dismissive glance—and keeps walking.

I watch him disappear into the trees.

I keep walking.

The forest deepens. The sounds of the shore fade, the voices, the laughter, the clink of bottles. All I hear now is birdsong and wind and the soft crunch of leaves beneath my feet.

I run my fingers across the branches as I pass. The leaves are soft. The bark is rough. The world is green.

Then I feel it.

A prickle at the back of my neck. A weight in the air. The unmistakable sense of being watched.

I turn.

Nothing. Just trees. Just shadows. Just the wind moving through the leaves.

Am I just paranoid?

I turn back. Keep walking.

The forest is quiet. Too quiet. The birds have stopped singing.

I turn again.

This ti, I’m surrounded.

Pirates. Half a dozen of them, erging from the trees like ghosts, their coats dark, their faces blank. They don’t speak. Don’t move. Just stand there, blocking the path ahead, the path behind, the paths to either side.

My hand goes to my sword.