QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 379: Play

Chapter 378:

Daphne

Impressive.

He could feel watching.

I lean against the branch, high above the forest floor, my boots balanced on the wood, my back against the trunk. The leaves hide . The shadows hide . The wind hides my scent.

Below, the main character acts like a main character.

He fights off the pirates—not easily, not gracefully, but effectively. A punch here. A dodge there. A sword drawn at the last possible mont.

By the ti he’s done, the pirates are scattered, groaning, clutching their wounds.

He doesn’t kill them.

Big mistake.

I watch from the tree as he wipes his blade on a fallen leaf and starts walking deeper into the forest.

I jump to the next tree.

Silent.

He’ll end up saving the dear rmaid princess today. The plot demands it. The story requires it. He’ll stumble upon her, wounded and beautiful, and he’ll rescue her, and she’ll fall in love with him, and the harem will grow by one.

I keep jumping. Tree to tree. Branch to branch.

He doesn’t look up.

He never looks up.

I land on a thick branch and sothing dangles in front of my face.

A snake.

Green. Thin. Its tongue flicks the air. Its body sways, curious, not threatened.

I catch it. Just behind the head. Its tail wraps around my wrist, squeezing.

My claws co out ready to kill it.

Then I pause.

A mischievous thought blooms.

I toss the snake.

It arcs through the air, green and wriggling, and lands directly in front of the prince.

He jumps.

His sword is out in an instant. He stabs the snake—once, twice, three tis—before his brain catches up with his body.

I laugh silently, my hand pressed over my mouth, my shoulders shaking.

The prince stands there, breathing hard, staring at the dead snake on the forest floor.

"What the—"

He looks around.

I hide behind the leaves.

He doesn’t see .

He kicks the snake off the path and keeps walking.

I follow for a while longer, leaping between branches, silent as a shadow. But the forest is dense, and the prince is slow, and I grow bored.

He finds a stream. Kneels beside it. Cups his hands and drinks. Refills his canteen.

I watch for a mont. Then another. Then another.

This is tedious.

I climb down from the tree, find a thicket of ferns, and remove my clothes—coat, shirt, trousers, boots. I fold them neatly, hide them beneath a log, and mark the spot with a scratch on a nearby tree.

Then I shift.

My bones reshape, my skin ripples, my senses sharpen. The world explodes into color and sound and scent.

I am a panther.

Black fur. Gold eyes. Claws that can shred steel.

It’s been so long.

I stretch, my spine arching, my tail sweeping the ferns. The earth is soft beneath my paws. The air is rich with the sll of moss and prey and freedom.

I leave the System to spy on the prince and bound into the forest.

*

The mongoose doesn’t hear coming.

It’s small. Brown. Busy digging at the base of a tree, its nose twitching, its tail flicking.

I crouch low. My muscles coil. My tail sweeps the leaves.

It freezes.

Good.

I pounce at it not to kill, not to catch, just to play.

The mongoose squeaks. It scrambles. It runs.

I let it go.

Then I catch it again.

I let it go.

Then I catch it again.

Each ti it tries to escape, I block its path. Each ti it thinks it’s safe, I appear in front of it. Its heart pounds. Its eyes are wide. It trembles in the shadow of my paw.

I enjoy its fear.

The mongoose tries to run again.

I catch it.

It trembles.

I purr.

Unfortunately, a parrot cos to ruin my fun.

The purple bird lands on a branch above . Its beady eyes stare down.

[Host. The prince has found the rmaid princess.]

I sigh. It cos out as a huff through my feline throat.

I release the mongoose. It scurries away, disappearing into the underbrush.

I find my clothes and shift back. My bones crack. My fur recedes. My fingers and toes return.

I dress quickly.

When I erge from the thicket, I see them.

The prince. Running. His hand clasped around the wrist of a naked woman.

Behind them, a group of angry pirates chase them with cutlasses and curses.

The woman is pretty. Black hair falls to her lower back, swaying as she runs. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, wide and frightened and trusting.

She looks at the prince like he hung the moon.

Really?

She’s in love already?

They’ve known each other for maybe ten minutes.

I follow silently, keeping to the trees, watching from the shadows.

I could help. I could drop down from the branches, scatter the pirates, end the chase in seconds.

But I don’t want to.

The prince shoves his coat at the woman. She pulls it on, too large, too long, but covered. Atleast she’s not naked anymore.

They keep running.

The pirates fall behind.

The prince and the woman disappear into the trees.

Hmmmnn.

I watch the empty space where they vanished.

The pirates are regrouping, muttering, checking their weapons.

They want the rmaid.

I step out from the trees.

The pirates don’t notice at first. They’re too busy arguing, too busy planning, too busy being pirates.

I take a breath.

Then I scream.

"THAT WAY!"

I point into the trees, my voice sharp and commanding, the kind of voice that expects to be obeyed.

The pirates hesitate.

I point again. "They went that way! Hurry!"

They run.

Boots pound the earth. Branches snap. Shouts echo through the forest.

I follow at a distance, staying in the shadows, watching through the leaves.

The pirates catch up quickly. The prince and the rmaid are fast, but they’re not that fast.

"Hand her over, boy."

The leader is tall, bearded, scarred. He holds a cutlass loosely in his right hand, as if he’s been holding it for years. As if it’s part of him.

The dear prince is valiant.

He hides the rmaid behind his body, his arms spread wide, his sword drawn. His hands are shaking. I can see it from here.

But he doesn’t run.

"She’s under my protection," he says. "You’ll have to go through ."

The rmaid clutches his sleeve. Her fingers tremble. Her eyes are wide.

I almost feel guilty.

Almost.

The System flies down from the canopy and lands on a nearby branch. It tilts its head. It squeaks a loud, sharp, demanding.

Everyone looks at the bird.

I step out from the trees.

"Oh?" I adjust my coat, smooth my hair, fix my cuffs. "What’s going on here, little prince?"