QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)
Chapter 201: Gone

Chapter 201: Gone

Chapter 201

Daphne – POV

I’ve spent the past week investigating every Avian beastman on this godforsaken campus.

Every last one.

Hawks. Doves. Crows. A flamboyant toucan who wouldn’t stop winking at me. Even a peacock who tried to flirt by fanning his tail like a stripper with too much pride.

And guess what?

Not. Her.

Now there’s a rumor spreading that I have a fetish for feathers.

Absolutely not.

I am not into birds.

I am simply eliminating possibilities. Efficiently. Ruthlessly.

From the window of my modest tower bedroom—a room I specifically requested, mind you—is the only reason I tolerate this dusty little space: a massive tree. Older than the academy, probably older than half the staff, its thick branches brush my window like an old friend knocking.

Technically, I was supposed to be in one of the sprawling manor-style residences they reserve for high-blooded heirs and royalty. Whole-ass estates with personal chefs, bathtubs bigger than beds, and wallpaper that probably costs more than my life.

But no. I picked this room.

And when the administration hesitated? I smiled.

Nicely.

Maybe with a touch of fang.

The previous occupant transferred dorms the next day.

Allegedly of her own volition.

Now, I throw my leg over the windowsill and hoist myself out with ease, claws clicking softly against stone. My tail sways behind me as I scale the tree like I’ve done it a hundred times. Which I have.

Panthers are meant for this. Heights. Shadows. Watching.

Up near the highest branches, I settle onto a thick limb, half-hidden by leaves. The wind rustles, carrying faint voices from the grounds below. Students chatter, flirt, posture. Carnivores flash teeth. Herbivores twitch ears. The ecosystem of the academy is a noisy, glittering thing.

But from here? It’s quiet.

Calm.

Almost peaceful.

I lean back against the bark and scan the courtyard like a predator at rest.

Somewhere down there... she exists.

She has to.

Whoever she is in this life—sharp-tongued or sugar-sweet, vengeful or shy—I’ll find her.

And I hope she makes it difficult.

Because gods, I could use a chase.

***

Nima Longear

Class was tiring—but it’s over now. And this? This is my chance. Another year where I can blend into the background, graduate quietly, and finally do something for myself. Maybe open a little bookstore in my hometown. Somewhere with sun and quiet. Somewhere safe.

I hug my books to my chest as I pad toward my hiding spot. A little burrow tucked beneath the giant tree behind the eastern dorms. Most students don’t come this far. Too many leaves. Too much nature. Not enough audience.

Perfect for me.

I’m small. Slender. The smallest in my year, I think. But that’s what makes it easy to blend in. Ears down, shoulders relaxed, soft steps—no one sees me if I don’t want them to.

Three years at this Academy. Two more to go.

It’s not that I hate it. It’s just... unnerving. All the carnivores. All the confidence. The noise. The scent of hunger tucked under their perfume.

At home, we’re crowded—way too crowded. Twenty-three siblings. I’m the eleventh. But it’s safer, somehow. Warmer. The only carnivore in our village is old Max, a retired baker bear who tells stories while kneading dough.

I settle in beneath the roots and open my book, heart finally slowing.

Peace.

Then—

My ears twitch.

That feeling. The one that pricks the back of your neck when something is watching.

I don’t move at first. Just close my book. Quiet. Careful. Predator eyes aren’t like herbivore eyes. You run, they chase. You freeze, they assess.

I slip the book into my satchel. Inch by inch.

And then—

I’m gone.

A flash of movement. A rustle of leaves. No trace left behind but the faint imprint of where I sat.

Let the hunter wonder. You won’t get me today.

***

Daphne POV

I land on the ground like a damn fool.

Staring.

Blinking.

Speechless.

Because—she’s a bloody bunny.

And not just any bunny. She’s tiny. Soft-looking. Brown lopsided ears twitching in the sun. That face—don’t get me started. The kind of cute that should be criminal. All delicate lashes and worried eyes, like she was carved from quiet.

My beloved.

I knew it the moment I saw her. There I was, perched in my tree as usual, spying on whoever dared disturb my thinking spot. Then she showed up. Curled under the branches like a scene from a forest fairytale.

And I fell. Literally.

Dropped from my branch like gravity was conspiring with fate.

She didn’t even see me land. Didn’t hear me. She just—froze.

Then vanished.

Gone in a blur of fur and instinct.

So fast it was like watching a spell unravel right before my eyes. One blink, and she was just... not there anymore. Like she’d never been. Like I imagined the soft tilt of her head, the twitch of those lopsided brown ears, the delicate fingers turning a page.

If not for the faint trace of her scent—sweetgrass and something warm, nostalgic, like sunlight spilling over old parchment—I might’ve genuinely thought I hallucinated her. Too good to be real. Too fast to be caught.

And that’s saying something.

Because I’ve chased bloodthirsty carnivores across execution pits. Sparred with panthers twice my size. I’ve broken ribs and broken boys without even mussing my hair. I once snapped a jaguar’s jaw with my thigh. (It was self-defense, mostly.)

But nothing—not titles, not power, not blood—has ever made my hands twitch like the sight of that tiny, quiet girl beneath my tree.

My tree.

A bunny. My wife is a bunny.

The gods have jokes.

I remember saying I didn’t want a bunny.

Too soft. Too sweet. Too skittish.

But scratch that.

I lied.

Because I already want her trembling in my arms—soft, breathless, cornered. And if it takes the rest of the year to catch her, so be it. I’m patient when it matters. I’ll learn every scent trail she leaves behind, every shadow she slips through. She can burrow, vanish, run like her life depends on it. I’ll still find her. Because now I’ve seen her.

Game on, sweetheart.

I’m going to ruin hiding for you.

Permanently.