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

Haruto's eyes widened. Part of him wanted to go, if only to better understand Shiruko's connection to the Yamada family.

But another part, the part tethered to reality, reminded him of Haruka.

"I appreciate the offer, but I need to be somewhere else," he said, his tone smooth yet firm.

"Maybe next time."

Shiruko's dark eyes lingered on him, her faint smirk unsettling.

Unlike Zenzai, whose expressions betrayed his every thought, Shiruko's face was a mask of calm, revealing nothing.

"Well then, Akane's boyfriend," she said, her voice lilting with subtle amusement, "I do hope we meet again soon."

Haruto offered a polite bow and turned away, his strides quick and purposeful.

As he moved farther from them, unease settled deep in his chest. His thoughts turned to Haruka, and a sudden urgency gripped him.

'I have a bad feeling about leaving her alone. If Akane is here with her mother, it is possible that Daiki might be here too!'

Panic bubbled up as he quickened his pace, breaking into a near run.

His heart pounded harder with each step until he reached the spot where he had left Haruka—and froze.

The bench was empty.

His eyes darted frantically around the bustling area, scanning the sea of faces, but Haruka was nowhere in sight.

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"Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. Anxiety clawed at him as his mind spiraled.

'What if Daiki found her? What if—'

"No," he whispered harshly, clenching his fists to steady himself.

'It's not going to happen. I won't let it.'

"Haruka! Where are you?"

Haruto called out, his voice carrying over the bustling noise of the crowd.

He didn't care about the curious glances or the murmurs from onlookers. His only concern was finding her.

His anxiety mounting, he started asking people nearby. "Have you seen a girl with white hair and ruby eyes? She's wearing a soft red kimono with a momiji pattern."

Most people shook their heads apologetically, some not even stopping to listen.

"Ah, shit," he cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Haruka was far from ordinary. Her striking appearance—white hair and ruby-red eyes—was unforgettable, especially paired with the vivid kimono.

If someone had seen her, they would surely remember.

But no one did.

Desperation clawed at his chest. Haruto stopped for a moment to catch his breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Forcing himself to focus, he yanked his phone out of his bag, his hands trembling as he redialed her number.

The ringing started again, mocking him with its steady, endless tone.

"Pick up, Haruka," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Each passing second felt like an eternity, the silence on the other end crushing him.

"Come on, answer my call," he muttered through clenched teeth, his grip tightening on the phone as though sheer willpower could bridge the distance between them.

His chest ached, his breathing shallow as dread continued to build. 'Where is she? Why isn't she answering?' The thought sent another wave of panic surging through him.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

***

The man leaned back, his grin widening with unsettling ease. "I'm Daiki Yamada. And you are?"

Haruka froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She'd heard his name before—whispered between her brother and his friends in hushed, cautious tones.

Dangerous. Maniacal. A man even Haruto, careful and calculated as he was, despised to the core.

She didn't know why her brother hated him so much, because some of the conversation she heard was either broken or just half of it since the app still has many flaws.

But she knew enough to tread carefully.

The man in front of her radiated an aura of chaos, and every instinct told her to get away.

Especially when she remembered the damned man in front of him was the reason why his brother went to the hospital because of an 'accident'.

She hated him now.

"I'm sorry, but I'm in a hurry," she said stiffly, standing up and attempting to leave.

Before she could take a step, Daiki's hand shot out, gripping her wrist with a firmness that made her frown.

"I just want to know your name," he said, his grin unfaltering.

"Or are you trying to stay all mysterious?"

Haruka pulled her arm back, but his grip didn't budge. His tone took on a teasing lilt.

"I'm not great with girls, but tell me, are you playing hard to get, or do you really not like me?"

The audacity of his words lit a fire of irritation within her. Playing hard to get? No one in their right mind would want him to begin with.

"You're not nearly handsome enough for me to bother with something like that," she snapped, yanking her arm free with a sharp slap to his hand.

For a moment, she braced for anger, but instead, Daiki laughed—a low, amused chuckle that sent a chill down her spine.

"Ah, that's a first. No one's dared to mock me like that in a long time."

He tilted his head, studying her with an unnerving curiosity. "Or maybe… not quite. You remind me of someone else."

"Someone who loved playing cat and mouse behind me. He had that same look in his eyes—the one that sees me as nothing but a parasite. It's fascinating, really."

His dark gaze locked onto hers, sharp and searching, as though trying to peel back the layers of her thoughts.

"I wonder," he murmured, "if you and he share the same reason for hating me."

Haruka's brows furrowed as her patience wore thin. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't care less about your story," she said coldly, brushing past him with deliberate steps.

Daiki didn't follow, but his laughter trailed after her, echoing like a ghostly reminder of his presence.

Haruka walked quickly, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, her pulse racing until she felt she'd put enough distance between them.

Glancing back, she exhaled in relief when she confirmed he wasn't following her.

"What a creepy man," she muttered under her breath. "Maybe that's why Brother hates him so much."

She let out a long sigh, attempting to shake off the encounter as she took in her surroundings.

The bustling crowd surged around her, unfamiliar and disorienting.

"And… where the hell am I?!" she groaned, scanning for a familiar landmark.

'Great.'