Gon's Harem System
Chapter 134: I’ll do anything!

Chapter 134: I’ll do anything!

The air in the shadowed corner of the castle was thick with the scent of stone and sweat, Gon lay there, chest heaving, as Celia trembled beside him, her breath still ragged from their frantic coupling.

The night pressed in around them, the flickering torchlight barely reaching this forgotten nook where they’d stolen away.

He leaned over, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, her skin warm against his lips.

She smiled faintly, her eyes half-lidded, but then, footsteps, sharp, echoing taps against the stone floor, growing louder, closer.

Celia bolted upright, her hands fumbling for her discarded dress. "Someone’s coming," she hissed, her voice a panicked whisper.

Gon scrambled to his feet, tugging his trousers back into place as she yanked the fabric over her head, smoothing it down with shaky fingers.

The footsteps paused, then resumed, a steady rhythm that sent a jolt through them both.

No time to linger, she shot him a quick, wide-eyed glance, and then they were moving, slipping out from the corner and into the darkened corridor.

They darted through the castle’s maze of halls, the cold air biting at their flushed skin.

Neither spoke, there was no need, at the first fork, Celia veered left toward the servants’ quarters, her silhouette swallowed by the gloom.

Gon went right, his boots scuffing against the worn stone as he headed for the outer courtyard.

The night swallowed their parting, leaving only the faint echo of their hurried steps.

Once he was clear, Gon slowed, his breath evening out as he leaned against a crumbling wall.

The stars above glittered like distant eyes, watching him in silence, he reached inward, calling up the system that hummed in his mind, a faint glow only he could see.

The interface flickered to life, stark and clinical:

Name: Gon Viller

Rank: Body Initiate

Level: Level one

Skills: Basic blade handling, Shadow step, iron veil

Conquered Women: Maid Elsa, Maid Ana, Nurse Celia

Potential women: Scanning

Xp: 120/200

He frowned, doing the math, eighty points to go, eighty measly points between him and the next level, where the real power waited.

He rubbed his jaw, thinking it through, the system didn’t hand out XP for nothing, every point came from a conquest, a victory.

Celia had been worth 20, same as the others, quick mental arithmetic told him the score: four more women, four more nights like this one, and he’d hit 200.

Level two would be his, and with it, whatever perks the system deemed fit to grant.

Gon smirked, the thrill of the chase already stirring in his gut, the world was full of many women, this castle was full of possibilities, serving girls, noblewomen.

Four wasn’t so many here, not when he had the system to work with, the footsteps from earlier were long gone, the night settling back into stillness.

Gon pushed off the wall, his mind buzzing with plans, Celia had been a risk, sneaking off to that corner where anyone could’ve stumbled over them, but it’d paid off.

Four more, he told himself, stepping into the shadows of the courtyard, four more, and he’d level up.

The castle loomed around him, its towers clawing at the sky, and he felt a surge of certainty, this was his game, his world to conquer, one whispered promise, one stolen moment at a time.

He slipped into the darkness, already hunting his next mark.

Gon slipped through the castle’s winding halls, the cool night air clinging to his skin as he made his way toward the kitchen.

The torches were dim here, casting long, jittery shadows across the stone walls, his boots echoed faintly, but he kept his steps light, mind still buzzing from his earlier escape.

The system’s glow lingered in his thoughts, 80 XP to go, four more conquests, he smirked, opportunity was everywhere if you knew where to look.

The kitchen door creaked as he pushed it open, the warmth of the hearth spilling out to meet him.

The smell of bread and stew hit his nose, rich and heavy, he paused, expecting the usual bustle of cooks and servants, but it was quiet, too quiet.

Only one figure stood there, a woman hunched over a wooden table, her hands kneading dough, she didn’t notice him at first, her dark hair falling in a messy braid down her back.

The kitchen was hers alone, a strange sight this late.

Gon cleared his throat, and she jumped, spinning around with flour-dusted hands clutched to her chest.

Her eyes were wide, terrified, like a deer caught in a hunter’s sight. "W-who’s there?" she stammered, voice trembling.

"Just me," he said, stepping into the light with an easy smile. "Gon. Didn’t mean to scare you. Where’s everyone else?"

She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the door behind him, then back. "It’s... it’s just me tonight," she said, barely above a whisper.

Her fingers twisted into her apron, leaving white streaks of flour.

He tilted his head, leaning against the table’s edge. "All alone? That’s odd. Kitchen’s usually crawling with people, even at night. What’s going on?"

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, cheeks paling. "I—I shouldn’t say," she mumbled, but her fear was plain as day.

Gon stepped closer, keeping his tone casual but sharp, like a blade wrapped in silk. "Come on, now. You can tell me. Why’re you here by yourself?"

She bit her lip, eyes glistening with panic. "There’s... there’s supposed to be another cook. Mara. But she—she had to run off. Personal errand, she said. I’m covering for her. Please, don’t tell anyone. She’ll be back soon, I swear!"

Gon’s mind clicked, opportunity, the woman, Mara, had left this one vulnerable, scared, and desperate to keep her secret.

He could feel the system humming, the promise of 20 XP dangling in front of him, she’d do anything to stay out of trouble.

He straightened, crossing his arms, letting his face harden into a mask of disapproval.

"That’s not good," he said, voice low and stern. "Sneaking off, leaving you here alone? Someone’s got to know about this. I’ll have to report it."

"No!" she gasped, stepping forward, hands outstretched. "Please, don’t! I’ll—I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just don’t tell. They’ll punish us both, and I can’t—" Her words choked off, tears brimming in her eyes.

He let the silence stretch, watching her squirm, her fear was a lever, and he knew how to pull it. "Anything, huh?" he said, a slow grin creeping onto his face.

She nodded frantically, too rattled to think straight, perfect, he stepped closer, voice dropping to a murmur. "Alright, then. Let’s see what ’anything’ means."