Gon's Harem System
Chapter 157: Still a fraud

Chapter 157: Still a fraud

He didn’t bother replying, let the guy stew in it.

Ethan’s chest heaved once, twice, he shook his head, muttering under his breath, "he only had luck," as he turned away.

His boots thudded down the hall, loud and angry, until he shoved open a door on the right and disappeared inside, slamming it shut behind him.

The sound echoed, sharp and final, leaving the hallway still.

Gon stood there, watching the closed door, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

Ethan could sulk all he wanted, didn’t change the fact Gon had dropped him flat in front of everyone.

Lyssia shifted beside him, her presence a quiet pressure, he didn’t turn yet.

Gon stood in the hallway of House Veyris, the echo of Ethan’s slammed door fading into the quiet.

The wood-paneled walls stretched long and dim, the window at the end spilling gray light across the floorboards.

Ethan was gone, sulking behind his barricade, leaving just Gon and Lyssia.

She stood a few steps off, arms crossed, dark hair catching the faint glow.

The silence wasn’t calm, it thrummed, loaded with the digs she’d landed downstairs and the ones he’d held back.

He turned to face her, locking eyes.

She didn’t flinch.

Lyssia spoke first, her voice low and edged, slicing through the stillness.

"So, this is the duke’s new prize?" She tilted her head, a smirk curling her lips, cold and deliberate.

"A nobody who lucked into a win. No real skill, just a flimsy trick or two."

She stepped closer, her elegant frame taut, daring him to react.

"Father’s right, you’re a stain on your blood, playing at something you’ll never be."

Gon’s jaw tightened, he held his ground.

He’d heard the "nobody" line before, back when he had no mana, when the duke’s disappointment was a daily weight.

Now?

He had mana, earned through the system, he’d proved it by dropping Ethan in the tournament.

Her words still stung, they lit a fire too.

He stepped forward, voice even.

"Tricks, huh? Worked well enough to leave your brother flat. Maybe I’m more than you think."

He watched her eyes narrow, pressing the point.

She laughed, a quick, harsh sound.

"More? You?" Lyssia uncrossed her arms, gesturing at him like he was a bad jest.

"A puffed-up fluke with a lucky swing? Your father must be scraping the bottom, dragging you here. Ethan’s worth ten of you, tournament or not."

Her tone was pure scorn, her gaze lingered, sweeping over him, searching for a crack.

She was pushing, testing how far he’d bend.

Gon smirked, closing the distance, near enough to catch the sharp floral bite of her perfume.

"Ten of me? Didn’t look that way when I had him down. Keep talking, Lyssia, I’ll show you what a fluke can do."

He leaned in, voice dipping, letting his newfound confidence cut back.

He wasn’t the empty shell anymore, he had mana now, strength she couldn’t guess at, he’d make her see it.

The win wasn’t luck, it was him.

Her smirk slipped, just for a heartbeat, before she doubled down.

"Show me?" She stepped up too, refusing to yield, her face inches from his.

"You’re a joke, Gon. Noble blood wasted on a fraud. One win doesn’t make you anything, Ethan’ll prove it next time."

Her words lashed out, her breath caught, her chest rising quicker.

She was mad, sure, something else flickered there, simmering beneath the venom.

He didn’t back off.

"Fraud? Tell that to your brother, he’s the one hiding. I’m right here."

He held her stare, steady, letting her feel it.

She wanted to cut him down, he wasn’t the old Gon, shrinking under judgment.

He’d beaten Ethan, claimed his spot, her taunts wouldn’t erase that.

The air turned thick, electric with their clashing words.

Lyssia’s eyes flared, she shoved him, both hands hitting his chest, hard.

"You’re nothing," she snapped, her voice wavered, heat bleeding through.

Gon rocked back a step, then steadied, his hand darting out to catch her wrist before she could retreat.

Her skin burned under his grip, her pulse racing against his fingers.

He didn’t let go, she didn’t pull away, just glared, lips parted, breathing sharp.

"Say it again," he said, voice low, tugging her closer.

Her eyes widened, she didn’t step back.

The shove, the grab, it wasn’t just anger now.

It was more, raw and pulling, coiling tight.

He felt it in how she stayed put, how her wrist tensed but didn’t twist free.

"Go on. Tell me I’m nothing."

She didn’t.

Instead, she pressed forward, erasing the last inch, her free hand bunching in his tunic like she meant to shove again but couldn’t.

"You’re insufferable," she muttered, softer, less sure.

Her gaze flicked to his mouth, then up, that broke it, the tension snapped.

He moved, letting her wrist go to grip her waist, pulling her in.

She didn’t resist.

Her lips hit his, fierce and sudden, all fury and want tangled up, burning through the rivalry.

Gon felt the break like a dam bursting when Lyssia’s lips slammed into his, fierce and unrelenting.

Her shove had rocked him back a step, his hand had snagged her wrist in reflex, now they were tangled in the dim hallway of House Veyris, her fist knotted tight in his tunic.

The air buzzed around them, thick with the spat they’d been hurling at each other, her mocking his tournament win, his noble blood, him firing back with sharp-edged confidence, it had all boiled over into this.

She kissed him like she wanted to bruise him, teeth clashing against his, tongue sharp and demanding, he gave it right back, his hand on her waist clamping down hard, yanking her flush against his chest.

She didn’t pull away.

Her body molded to his, firm and searingly hot through their clothes, her breath stuttering in her throat as she nipped his lower lip, hard, a deliberate dare that stung.

"Still a fraud," she hissed into his mouth, her voice trembling with spite, half-lost in the messy press of their lips.