QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 167: Proposal

Chapter 167 - Daphne POV

I lean against the polished handle of a golf club, my eyes half-lidded beneath dark sunglasses as I watch Raffaele swing like he’s starring in an overpriced cologne ad. The wind tosses his perfectly styled blond hair just enough to make it look artful, not messy. He’s in a pale pink polo shirt tucked into white shorts with spotless sneakers to match. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Mattel made him as some exclusive Collector’s Edition Ken—Mafia Prince Variant.

He lines up his shot with practiced calm, shoulders squared, jaw tight in concentration. Then he swings. The ball soars briefly and lands with a modest plunk not far from the hole.

He turns, flashing me a grin too sincere for his own good. "Don’t frown so much. Let’s enjoy our boys’ hangout. The girls are having a good time."

"I know I’m very handsome," I say, following him across the neatly trimmed lawn, "and look like one of you guys, but just to be clear, I’m a female. A girl. I identify as one. I have a vagina."

"Come on," he laughs, grabbing his club, "don’t tell me you’d rather be at the spa."

"I would, actually. Spending hours being massaged and pampered? That sounds divine."

He pauses, blinking. "...Well, when you put it that way, that actually does sound kinda nice."

"Wait no," he backtracks. "Don’t tempt me."

"Don’t you have friends?" I ask, stifling a snicker as he misses the follow-up shot.

"As a matter of fact, I don’t," he says flatly.

I raise an eyebrow. "That’s just sad."

"Well, neither do you."

Oof. Right between the ribs. My smirk falters. "I have friends... friend."

He stops walking, leaning casually against his club like he just delivered a checkmate. "Really? Who? And don’t say Estela."

"Julie," I say, too quickly.

"That’s your assistant, your bodyguard, stylist, therapist, and general chaos manager. Now he’s your friend too?"

I shrug. "He’s a man of many talents."

"Daphne," he says, low and pointed.

I sigh. "Fine. I don’t need friends."

He studies me for a long beat, something softer than amusement flickering in his eyes. I glance away very uncomfortable.

"Besides, remember your friends? They sold you out to Luciano. That’s why you were hesitant to make the right call and you know kill them."

He winces. "Yeah, I’d rather not be reminded of that."

Truth is, I’ve never really had friends either. In my original life, everything was a race—grades, jobs, status. I was too busy building the billionaire CEO Daphne Han to make any lasting connections. And by the time I succeeded, I had no clue how to make them. Every friendship I attempted ended with someone trying to use me.

"Wait, what did you just say?" I ask, blinking out of the spiral.

"You’re seriously going to make me say it again?" he groans, rubbing the back of his neck.

I stay quiet, waiting.

He sighs. "I said... I was asking if... you wanted to be... my best friend."

It comes out awkward, rushed, nearly swallowed by embarrassment. I blink at him, laughter bubbling up unbidden.

"Wait, you’re serious?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Did you not learn your lesson? Besides, who even says that out loud?"

"I don’t know how this friendship thing works, okay?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

"I just know that you wouldn’t betray me. And if you ever did, it would be for a good reason."

He steps closer. His voice lowers.

"I like your company. We have great conversations. You make me better, sharper. Before you came along, my only plan was to survive underground, hope I didn’t die as collateral in this fight for the throne. But then you showed up... and I started to hope for more. I want more. I started dreaming again."

His eyes lock onto mine.

"I would really like it if we weren’t just a political alliance anymore... I want us to be more than that."

There’s a sincerity in his voice that hits something hollow inside me. Like it’s echoing through a cavern I never knew was there.

I blink. "You’re not my type."

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh come on, Daphne! I just poured out my heart to you, and you just had to ruin the moment."

I smile, but it’s gentler now.

I guess there’s no harm in trying. I mean... nothing wrong with it. Right? Friends.

I rub the back of my head, suddenly aware of how awkward my own limbs feel. Like they’re foreign. Like I’m a teenager again, trying to fumble through something that should be simple but never is.

"Fine," I say, and my voice comes out quiet—smaller than I intended, smaller than I usually allow myself to sound. It doesn’t sound like me.

Raffaele blinks. His brows lift slowly like he didn’t hear me right. "Wait—what did you say?"

"I said fine," I repeat, louder, trying to reclaim my usual nonchalance.

There’s a beat of silence. And then he breaks into the most ridiculous grin I’ve ever seen. It lights up his entire face—dimples, slightly crooked bottom teeth and all. It’s too earnest, too genuine, and it’s aimed right at me like I’m the sun coming out after rain.

"You serious?" he breathes.

"I reserve the right to change my mind if you annoy me," I mutter, eyes narrowing.

He’s so bright—like the sun, literally. I need shades right now. His grin could power an entire city if someone figured out the tech.

"Unfortunately," he says, in that singsong voice of his, "there are no take-backs. It’s been legally binding since you said ’fine.’ I believe that counts as a verbal contract."

"Impossible. I take it back right now." I cross my arms and raise a brow.

"I refuse." He plants his feet, swings the gleaming metal golf club—and with a satisfying thwack, the ball arcs cleanly across the manicured green and drops neatly into the small hole with the tiny white flag.

He pumps his fist in victory like he just won an Olympic medal.

I regret it already.