QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)
Chapter 202: Gaze

Chapter 202: Gaze

Chapter 202 – Nima POV

That was terrifying.

Not new. Not unusual. But still terrifying.

I’m used to it by now—some predators like to spook us for fun. Sadistic assholes, all muscle and dominance, swaggering like the world owes them awe. They enjoy the fear, the way our ears twitch and spines stiffen. Like it’s a game.

But me? I’m just a third-year at Felaris Academy, and the only reason I’ve survived this long is because I’m fast. On my feet, with my tongue, and out of sight before they can remember my name.

Still, that one was different.

I couldn’t see her well, but her eyes—sharp and gleaming like polished obsidian—locked onto me in a way that made the fur on my arms rise. Not hunger. Not cruelty. Something else.

Possession.

I shake off the thought and unlock the dorm room door with a soft sigh. Home, sweet shared chaos.

I barely have time to drop my bag before—

"Oh stars," I mutter.

There’s rustling from the other side of the room. Tangled sheets. A guilty silence.

I clear my throat pointedly.

From beneath the covers, my roommate and her boyfriend emerge, both blushing and sheepish. Not even bothering to help tidy up the mess.

"Hi Nima," she says with a nervous smile. "We thought you’d be back later."

"Yeah, me too," I reply, stepping around discarded clothes. "But I bumped into a predator."

She shudders in sympathy. "Ugh. I get it."

I offer her a tight smile and head for my side of the room. The space is tiny—barely enough for two beds and a cramped bathroom. I don’t complain. I’ve lived with less.

I change out of my uniform, rinse off in a shower that never quite gets warm enough, then flop onto my bed in a worn-out t-shirt and shorts. Peace. Finally.

With the little light left from the window, I pull out my sketchbook.

Drawing calms me.

I trace the shapes of a place I’ve never seen—a valley with soft blue skies, hills that stretch for miles. I don’t know where it is. Or if it’s real. But I dream about it sometimes. Always with someone beside me. A presence. A feeling. Warmth I can’t name. A person whose face I can’t remember, but whose absence aches in my chest like a memory I was never allowed to keep.

In the dreams, I feel like more. Like I have purpose. Like I’m not just another Longear waiting to pop out a litter and fade into background chatter.

That’s not the life I want.

I don’t have big aspirations—I’m not chasing crowns or careers. But I do want peace. Quiet. A little bookstore in a quiet town. Someone to come home to.

That’s not much, right?

Still, people look at me strange when I say I don’t want children. Longeareds like me are expected to be fertile and eager, like walking baby factories with wagging tails.

But I want something different. Something soft. Private. Intimate.

Just the two of us. Like in my dreams.

I hope I see them again tonight.

Even if just for a moment.

*

I wake before sunrise, slipping out of bed quietly while my roommate and her boyfriend are tangled up in something I don’t want to think about. Again.

Some of us can’t afford full tuition at Felaris, even if we come from old noble blood. Especially us middleborns, like me—number eleven out of twenty-three.

So we work.

The air is still cool as I cross the stone paths toward the kitchen annex, apron folded under my arm, hair braided to keep it neat. Inside, the heat hits me first—warm, heavy, already thick with spices and sweat. The smell of iron pans, chopped roots, and meat long stopped bothering me. I stir the broth in one of the giant pots and toss in the trimmed meat chunks like muscle memory. I’m practically immune to raw meat now. Survival skill number fourteen.

First years scurry about, trays in hand, whispering nervously as they prepare to serve breakfast to the heirs of dukedoms and elite clans. I thank every pantheon that I’m past that stage. Serving the golden princes and princesses of Felaris was humiliating.

Not to mention going to predators rooms? I shudder at the memory of those sadistic assholes.

I scrub a cutting board clean while the room buzzes. There’s always gossip this early. It simmers louder than the stew.

"Felix Leonhart is standing for Student Council President."

I blink. Felix?

We were cordial in our first year. Sat next to each other in Defense and Dietary Ethics. He was soft-spoken back then. Kind. Said please and thank you. Now he walks with a lion’s tail flicking like it owns the wind and five girlfriends behind him. I guess that’s what being a Leonhart heir does to you. This place changes people. Fast.

"Apparently, the Demonic Panther is backing him."

"Demonic Panther?" someone echoes.

"Yeah. Daphne Nyxclaw."

I freeze for a beat, then shake my head and return to stirring. That world—they’re not speaking about classmates. They’re talking about demigods in training. Royal families and wildbloods. People whose very names could start wars or end bloodlines. They play games up there. Kill for heirship. Date across species lines like it’s sport.

That’s not my world. Never will be.

I finish my shift, rinse my hands, and tie my books close with twine. Outside, the halls are already a whirl of noise and movement—tailored navy jackets with gold embroidery, polished boots clicking across marble, and the occasional flash of expensive jewelry.

Even the air feels tense, like it’s been warned of a duel that hasn’t happened yet.

I keep my eyes on the floor. It’s safer that way.

My shoes click softly on the marble. I focus on that—on the rhythm of steps, the weight of my satchel, the familiar pressure of my pencil case against my hip.

But halfway to the stairwell, something prickles down my spine.

A gaze.

Not just any gaze. The kind that burns softly, like moonlight caught in fur.

I stop.

Turn slowly.

Nothing.

Just the usual chaos of Felaris. Students walking. Laughing. A gryphon beastman sneezing into a wing.

Still... I can’t shake the feeling.

I hug my books tighter to my chest and hurry along. I’m probably just tired.

Probably.