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

Daiki lounged on the worn leather sofa, his posture relaxed but his sharp gaze locked onto Haruto.

Around him, the gang loomed in their usual intimidating formation. Ren, ever the loudmouth, had a girl uncomfortably pressed against his side.

Her bangs obscured her face, but Haruto recognized her. The memory of her naked, vulnerable form on the floor flickered in his mind.

Still, as Haruto's eyes swept over the gang, he felt less fear than he once had. Up close, they weren't monsters; they were just high school kids cloaked in layers of cruelty and fractured minds.

A small, deranged cult of psychopaths, nothing more.

Daiki finally broke the silence, his tone tinged with disinterest. "So, what do you want?"

Straightening his back, Haruto clasped his hands behind him, his stance firm and deliberate.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

Daiki leaned forward slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging into a faint smirk. "Yes. And?"

"I know someone who wants to join the gang. Let him in," he said. "I'm asking as a friend."

Before Daiki could respond, Ren let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Are you serious? Daiki doesn't just let anyone in. And who's this friend of yours, anyway?"

Haruto's gaze turned cold, cutting through Ren's bravado. "I wasn't talking to you."

The room seemed to be still. Ren's laughter died, replaced by a sneer. "Huh. This bastard thinks he's got a say."

He started toward Haruto, but Daiki's raised hand stopped him mid-step.

"Don't waste your breath." His voice was calm but laced with warning.

Ren bristled. "Daiki, he's not even part of the gang! You don't need to listen to—"

Before he could finish, Daiki moved. In one swift motion, he grabbed Ren's shirt and yanked him forward, nearly sending him sprawling over the low table in front of the sofa.

"It's not your decision," Daiki growled, his tone icy and final. "Speak out of turn again, and I'll cut your tongue out."

Ren froze, swallowing hard as Daiki released him. Despite his silence, his glare at Haruto burned with hate.

"Don't worry," Haruto said coolly, addressing Ren but keeping his eyes on Daiki. "You might even like what he can do."

Ren's glare didn't waver, but Haruto paid him no mind. His focus was on Daiki, who leaned back into the sofa, his unblinking stare boring into Haruto.

The weight of Daiki's scrutiny was almost suffocating.

Finally, Daiki's lips curled into a sly smile. "Fine," he said, "Bring him here, and we'll see what he's made of."

Haruto exhaled quietly, a subtle sigh of relief as the first step of his plan fell into place. Now, all he needed was the video—and everything else would follow.

Daiki leaned back on the sofa with an almost lazy smirk. "Why don't you come over, Haruto? Ren wants to make another video."

Haruto stiffened, his brows furrowing as Daiki motioned to Ren, who instantly sprang into action.

"Video?" Haruto muttered, his voice low with suspicion.

Before he could piece together their meaning, Ren grabbed the woman by her hair, roughly pulling her toward the tattered bed shoved against the wall.

The woman stumbled, but her resistance was muted, her face blank with resignation.

Ren threw her onto the bed, laughing crudely as the rest of the gang followed, peeling off their shirts.

The room filled with the sound of mocking jeers and laughter, their excitement palpable.

"Get naked! Time for a new 'video'!" Ren's voice rang out like a gavel, sealing the woman's fate.

Haruto's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly as the pieces fell into place. This wasn't just another "video."

It was a replay of the horrors they had inflicted on Haruka. His vision blurred with rage, his mind screaming for vengeance as memories of his sister's shattered innocence came flooding back.

His fists tightened to the point of pain, his knuckles white. Every fiber of his being demanded he acts—to rip them apart, one by one.

"What are you staring at?" Daiki's mocking voice broke through Haruto's storm. "Go on, join in. Ren's waiting for you."

Daiki's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with the sadistic joy of toying with Haruto.

Steeling himself, Haruto moved forward, his face a mask of indifference. Inside, his emotions churned violently, but he couldn't afford to break now.

The woman lay motionless on the mattress, her body trembling. Tears streamed silently down her face, her sobs muffled by the room's oppressive atmosphere.

"Hey, newbie!" one of the gang members barked, tossing him a camera. "You're the cameraman! Don't screw it up."

Ren sneered as he stood over the woman. "And don't get any ideas. You don't touch my woman."

Haruto caught the camera, his grip tightening around it as he silently obeyed. His gaze lingered on the woman—on her tear-streaked face and fragile body. The sight turned his stomach, every second a new torture.

'Just endure,'

he told himself. '

If I break now, I lose everything.'

Their eyes met briefly, and in her gaze, he saw a faint spark of hope—or perhaps desperation. Her emerald-green eyes mirrored his own.

'Hold on,'

he pleaded silently.

'Hold on until I can destroy them.'

The more he stared, the more her face blurred with Haruka's in his mind. The resemblance was haunting, and the weight of his helplessness felt suffocating.

When the ordeal was over, Haruto left the room as quickly as he could, his legs carrying him to the stairs. He sank down, burying his face in his trembling hands.

His body shook with rage, frustration, and self-loathing. Despite the system, despite his newfound strength, he had done nothing to help her.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as he sat there, consumed by his turmoil, until a light touch on his shoulder startled him.

Turning, he found her standing behind him—the girl from the video. Up close, she was even smaller, her frame frail and fragile.

Her clothes were disheveled, her blouse missing buttons, exposing the edges of her bra. Dirt and tears stained her skin, but her expression was calm.

"You dropped this," she said softly, holding out his phone.

Haruto stared at her in surprise before taking it. "Oh… thanks."

She hesitated as he stood, her green eyes watching him closely.

Frowning at her disheveled state, Haruto shrugged off his blazer and draped it over her shoulders.

"You can't walk home like that," he said.

Her eyes widened in silent surprise before she clutched the blazer around herself. "Thank you."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, the air heavy between them.

"Do you…" she started hesitantly. "Do you remember me? My name is Ayaka Yoshida."

Haruto blinked, startled by the question. A sense of déjà vu hit him—he'd been asked this before.

"I'm sorry, but no."

She tilted her head, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. "Really?" she murmured.

"Weird that Haruka still comes to the meetings, then."

Haruto froze, his eyes narrowing. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly, shaking her head. "I'll be going now."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows leaving him and the abandoned school behind.

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