QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 150: Lovers

Chapter 150

Daphne Han was not supposed to succeed.

She was supposed to suffer.

That had been the entire point of sending her into the broken world—an unstable narrative, corrupted systems, and rules that rewrote themselves mid-sentence. A world built like a trap, stitched together from the ruins of discarded storylines and failed protagonists.

She wasn’t supposed to make it this far.

But she did.

And worse—she thrived.

The System watched.

Observed.

Calculated.

And when its data models failed—when every predictive thread showed her surviving, stabilizing, winning—System 404 did what it had not done in centuries.

It broke its own rules.

And entered the field.

---

It manifested as a pale blue blob of shimmering energy—non-physical, barely real. It did not touch time. It did not walk the ground. It drifted between moments, bypassing logic and consequence.

It floated past politicians and mercenaries.

Past grieving widows and burning documents.

Until it found him.

Valentino Jr.

The bastard son.

***

Valentino Jr. POV

The tides are changing.

I can feel it in the air—in the way eyes no longer turn toward me during meetings, in the way whispers fade as I approach, in the nervous silence that now clings to my faction like smoke.

Everyone is drifting.

Luciano and Raffaele have become the new centers of gravity. People are aligning with them. Pledging loyalty. Making deals I’m not invited to.

Even my most loyal men... they’re getting twitchy.

I stand.

The chair creaks behind me, but I don’t look back.

It doesn’t help that I couldn’t even help Marco. My own right hand man. I promised him we’d take back his wife and kids from her, from that arrogant bitch.

And I failed.

I walk toward the window of my apartment.

It’s not much. High-rise, penthouse, sure—but it’s not the Castellano estate. That place was never home. Not to me. When Father was alive, I wasn’t even allowed past the front gate unless I was summoned for pity appearances.

I’ll set foot in that place again when it’s mine.

When the walls are silent with obedience.

When my name is carved into the legacy like it always should’ve been.

I light a cigarette.

Breathe in.

Let the smoke fill my lungs like venom I’ve learned to love.

This can’t keep happening.

They can’t keep winning.

They—the favored sons, the legitimate heirs, the polished lapdogs of the old man’s empire.

It’s all falling away from me.

But I’m not out yet.

If I’m losing the game—

Then I’ll flip the board.

I’ll burn the rulebook.

If I can’t have the seat...

No one will.

***

Far above, the System hovered.

Cold. Silent. Triumphant.

Daphne Han had cheated death before.

But this time?

That’s not possible.

-***-

Daphne POV

The tub is massive—oval-shaped and marble-backed, deep enough that the water swallows us to the collarbone. It’s more a personal pool than a bath, tucked beneath floor-length windows where warm afternoon light spills across our skin.

Estela lies between my legs, her back to my chest, the crown of her head resting against my shoulder. My arms wrap loosely around her waist. One of her legs floats lazily to the side, the other curled slightly against mine.

The foam swirls lazily around us, scented with something faintly floral and absurdly expensive.

She’s talking about her day—something about one of the girls at the shelter, or maybe a failed baking experiment.

I’m only half-listening.

Because she’s warm against me. Because her breath rises and falls in time with mine. Because this moment—this ridiculous, soft moment—is more dangerous than anything Castellano ever threw at me.

These are the rare minutes I relax.

Her voice is soothing. Like the hum of an old love song I don’t remember the words to.

"Daphne," she says suddenly, catching on. "Have you heard anything I’ve said?"

I hum against the crown of her head. "Hmmmnn..."

"Dee," she says again, more insistently.

"Something about burnt cookies," I reply, teasing.

She lifts her head and frowns at me, that adorable little crease forming between her brows.

"That’s definitely not what I was saying."

I smirk. "Really?"

She raises a skeptical brow. "You were nowhere near close."

"Nah," I say, chuckling. "I’m pretty sure you said something burnt. Emotionally. Or spiritually. Or... you know, cookies I don’t know."

She swats my arm with a wet slap. "Pay attention."

~

"I’m telling you about my day, pay attention, CEO Han!" Jiang Yuxi says, pouting through her annoyance as she slaps my hand under the water.

Foam flies.

"Pretty sure you said something about the director calling many cuts, though," I say innocently, even though I know damn well I wasn’t listening.

Jiang Yuxi glares at me, cheeks flushed, bubbles clinging to her shoulders. Her hair’s pinned up, but a few strands curl loose near her neck.

"No! Not even close! I was talking about the wardrobe malfunction," she exclaims.

I feign confusion. "Nah, that’s not what you said. I distinctly remember the phrase ’cut, cut, cut.’"

~

Another slap lands on my arm.

I blink—jolted back into warm marble and the scent of citrus oil and rose foam.

"Okay, okay—I’m paying attention now!" I defend, laughing.

Estela shifts slightly in my arms, then stills.

She pauses, brow furrowed.

"What?" I ask, brushing a damp curl behind her ear.

She looks up at me, eyes distant, puzzled.

"I just had the weirdest sense of déjà vu," she says slowly.

"Like... like we’ve had this conversation before."

I run my fingers through the ends of her damp hair, swallowing the echo of someone else’s voice—Yuxi’s voice—still ringing like a faint bell at the edge of my mind.

"That just proves my theory," I say, aiming for lightness even as the air around me feels denser.

She hums. "What theory?"

"That we’re past-life lovers," I say, giving her a little squeeze.

She rolls her eyes with a groan. "Oh my God."

"I’m telling you," I insist, wrapping my arms tighter around her and pulling her into a full-body hug, our slick skin sliding together beneath the water.

She huffs, not even trying to escape, her head resting just under my chin. "Uh huh," she says, drenched in disbelief.

But I can feel her smiling against my chest.