Netori: I Shall Steal All Of My Enemies' Women For Revenge!

"Haruto," the woman said warmly, her eyes crinkling with a familiar ease. "It's been a while. Do you remember me?"

Haruto took in her appearance—a woman with C-cup curves and wide hips, mature but carrying a refined air.

She looked around the same age as Asuka or Chiyo, yet her face stirred no memories.

He was certain he hadn't met her before, and the only older women he'd been involved with were Asuka, Chiyo, and the twins.

"I'm sorry," he replied politely, "but who are you?"

She chuckled a soft sound that hinted at amusement.

"Ah, you really don't remember, do you? It's been six years since we last met."

Her smile was warm, yet her gaze carried a sense of recognition that made him uncomfortable.

Haruto squinted, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "And how exactly do you know me? Six years is a long time. You might have me mixed up with someone else."

"Oh, I'm sure I haven't," she replied lightly. "I still talk to your sister, Haruka, now and then. She's shared a few photos of you here and there."

He blinked, taken aback. '

Haruka's… friend?'

he thought, skepticism tightening in his chest.

In the past few months, he'd gotten close to Haruka again after years of indifference, but it was odd to think of her having a friend twice her age—especially one who apparently knew him well.

Also, if she has that kind of friend, Haruka would definitely talk about her because she loves talking about her activities, her friends, everything.

Seeing the suspicion in his expression, the woman spoke again as though reading his mind.

"Don't look so suspicious. I was your doctor when you were younger."

She pulled a small business card from her purse, extending it to him. "Hana Watanabe," he read, his eyes skimming down to her title.

'Psychiatrist?'

Haruto's mind whirled, disbelief heavy in his chest.

He had no memory of ever visiting a psychiatrist as a child. Yet here she was, speaking with a calm familiarity as if she knew something he didn't.

She gave a knowing smile, noticing his reaction. "You never visited in person after you came back to school and sadly we lost contact."

"But I found Haruka again two years ago, so she kept updating me about your situation because she said you didn't want to."

Before he could question further, someone called her name from across the lobby. She glanced over, then looked back at him with a parting smile.

"I'm afraid I have to go. But let's talk again sometimes—I'd love to hear how you've been these past years."

She left him standing there, his mind buzzing with unanswered questions.

Haruto searched his memory, trying to recall any visit to a therapist or psychiatrist from his childhood, but nothing surfaced.

He remembered his shock after his mother's death, yet he couldn't believe it had left a mental toll severe enough to involve therapy.

'I'll ask Haruka about this later,'

he decided, tucking the business card into his pocket.

Haruka must know everything, since she lied to the doctor about him didn't want to meet her.

After booking the hotel room, Haruto returned to Chiyo, who was slumped on the lobby sofa, barely conscious and swaying.

As he took her, she suddenly vomited on his clothes, the warmth and smell clinging to him, making him gag.

Her head lolled as she mumbled incoherently, and before he could fully process his revulsion, she threw up again.

With a sigh, Haruto steadied her, grimacing as he bore the brunt of her clinging, and guided her toward the elevator.

'

This is my karma,'

he thought darkly, trudging along.

Once they reached the room, he carefully laid her on the bed, ensuring she wasn't lying in her own mess. To his grim satisfaction, it seemed she'd saved every drop of it for him.

After calling hotel staff to handle his clothes, he slipped out of his soiled outfit and tossed it into the laundry bag.

He then retreated to the bathroom for a hot shower, the warmth easing his tension as his mind wandered back to the mysterious psychiatrist.

"Hana Watanabe… Hana Watanabe…" he murmured, her name echoing in his thoughts.

Despite his efforts, he couldn't recall any memories attached to it.

After his shower, he donned the hotel's black robe just as the staff arrived to collect his clothes.

Thanking them, he returned to the room and sat at the edge of the bed.

Chiyo was sleeping soundly, though her brow was furrowed as if troubled even in her dreams.

A faint smile crept onto his lips, but his amusement was cut short as she mumbled his name.

"Haruto… You asshole…"

He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. '

She's definitely going to remember this night and bring it up every time we argue, isn't she?'

But then, Chiyo's blue eyes fluttered open, the same striking shade as the blue diamond necklace he'd gifted her.

Her gaze softened, and her voice broke as she looked up at him.

"Haruto… Why don't you love me? I love you so much…" She pulled him into a tight embrace, her tears dampening his shoulder.

"I know," he murmured, patting her back gently. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, she tugged him down, shifting so he was now lying above her, her hands framing his face. Her eyes were glassy, filled with sadness and disappointment.

"You have to take responsibility for my feelings," she insisted, her voice slurred.

She pulled him down, her lips pressing insistently to his. "You're mine! Not that old hag's with the sagging—"

"Alright, calm down. You're drunk," he said, trying to pull away, wary she'd start vomiting again.

She clung tighter, her face scrunched up in frustration. "Do you hate me that much? Why won't you touch me?" she cried, her voice quivering like a child's.

"I don't hate you, Chiyo. Just… calm down."

"No!" She pouted, tightening her arms around his neck and burying his face against her chest.

"You have to take responsibility!"

Haruto sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her clingy hold and her pleas as they echoed in his ears.

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