QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 251: Over and over

Chapter 251: Over and over
Chapter 251
Daphne
"System!"
I internally scream the word and, like clockwork, the world bleeds into monochrome. All sound dies. Even Nima’s lips—mid-question, mid-plea—hang parted in a frozen expression. The only movement is the slow drift of the purple orb materialising in front of me.
I drag a hand down my face. "I’m sure you already know what’s happening here." I gesture at Nima’s frozen form. "She’s remembering, isn’t she? The previous worlds?"
[Scanning.]
The orb flickers, streams of violet code scrolling across its surface.
[It is the same soul. Cross-referencing records: Jiang Yuxi, Evelyn Callum, Estella—]
"Yeah, no shit," I cut it off. "I asked if I’m allowed to tell her."
[Host, you asked me a question—]
There’s no tone in the robotic voice, but I swear I can hear sarcasm.
I glare. "So the good little, perfect system behaviour was just an act, wasn’t it, 404?"
The blob drifts in a lazy circle.
[It is not an act. I am the Harem-
Breaking
System. I am here to help the host—]
"Are you still mad I ed you? Because I had to. You nearly killed me in the Broken World."
[ I was doing my job! As the Harem-Building System!!! ]
"That didn’t mean you had to try and get rid of me!"
[ You were
breaking
harems! ]
"Then you should have found another host," I snap. "You know how I am."
[ I HAD A SUITABLE HOST CHOSEN! ]
"Where is this ’suitable host’ now?"
[BECAUSE YOU PUSHED HIM INTO THE VOID.]
I roll my eyes. "Why are you bringing up old matters? That was three worlds ago. Don’t be petty. Be professional."
[ Y—YOU—]
"Relax." I reach out, snatch the orb out of the air and squeeze it like a stress ball.
"It’s all in the past now, isn’t it? You’re my harem-breaking system now. Let’s get along."
[Affirmative. Please stop stretching my data codes.]
It wriggles free of my grip, re-floating near Nima.
[It appears this soul has accompanied Host through each world. Each time, a small amount of world essence is siphoned onto it, making it stable. This is why it is able to retain fragments of memory.]
I stare at Nima’s still form. The monochrome makes her look like a charcoal sketch, fragile and eternal at once.
"So can I tell her? It won’t disrupt anything?"
The system hesitates.
[Unknown. This is not within my programmed code.]
"Very helpful," I mutter. "Aren’t you supposed to be my guide?"
[When it comes to the mission. This is beyond mission parameters.]
I exhale slowly, eyes on Nima. I stare at her frozen face, her hand still raised mid-gesture, lips parted like she’s about to ask me another question. In black and white, even the tremor in her eyelashes is visible, like a sketch I could trace forever.
I take a deep breath, fingers trembling where they hover above Nima’s cheek.
"I don’t know what I’m going to do," I admit, voice cracking just enough to betray me.
The purple glow of the orb pulses once. Then the world snaps back into colour. Sound rushes in.
"Daphne?" Nima’s voice is soft, tentative, her warm palm still pressed to my face like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go.
I lean into her touch, closing my eyes for a heartbeat. My forehead almost touches hers. "Well," I murmur, forcing a steadiness I don’t feel as I straighten to my full height.
"I can’t say what you’re thinking is wrong."
Her doe eyes blink up at me, wide and wet, the kind of eyes that undo me in every lifetime. She looks so small, so heartbreakingly earnest. My chest tightens.
"I have been in love with you for a really long time," I say quietly. No deflection, no teasing, just truth.
Her lips part. A breath trembles out of her. Then she smiles—small at first, tentative, the edges curling into something radiant.
Seriously... how could I not fall in love with her?
"Can you... can you... tell me about it?" she asks hesitantly, voice small but steady.
I weigh it. My thumb traces the line of her jaw. As long as I don’t tell her about the mission itself... it should be fine.
"Well, I have this... mission I’m on," I say slowly. "Maybe one day I can tell you everything."
I lace my fingers through hers and tug her gently toward the far wall. "For now, come with me."
Her brows lift, but she doesn’t look surprised.
"You snooped, didn’t you?" I ask, glancing back at her with a raised brow.
"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—" she starts quickly, ears drooping.
I chuckle, squeezing her hand. "It’s okay."
I kneel and press my palm to the hidden panel. It clicks open with a soft sigh, revealing the narrow ladder descending into the compartment below. I slip down first.
"Bring that lamp with you," I call up.
A moment later her silhouette appears above, lamp in hand, and I steady her waist as she steps down. The secret room smells of cedar and oil paints, walls lined with canvases stacked like silent witnesses. It’s small enough that the warmth of her body against mine makes the air feel charged.
"What... what do you want to know?" I ask quietly.
"What you can tell me," she says, clutching the lamp to her chest.
I hum and move toward the first canvas, pulling the cloth off with a slow sweep. "Come and see her."
She pads closer, her ears twitching.
"This is Jiang Yuxi," I say softly. "The first time...the beginning."
"Jan... uxi?" she repeats, tongue stumbling over the name.
"Jiang Yuxi," I correct gently.
My bunny looks at me with an almost aggrieved little pout, like she’s asking how she’s supposed to remember that.
"She was an actress," I continue, eyes fixed on the painted face frozen in time.
"The best in her industry. I didn’t mean to, but I fell in love with her."
I touch the edge of the frame, thumb brushing the dried paint.
"I fell so deeply in love with her... it devastated me when she died."
I move to the next canvas. The lamp’s glow spills over a woman in a crimson gown.
"This was the Duchess. Duchess Evelyn. That was another tale." My voice dips.
"Heartbroken from Yuxi’s death, I didn’t know it was the same soul. It was... hard falling in love with her and feeling like I was betraying Yuxi. The dream you mentioned—the grassy view? That’s probably her."
Nima’s eyes widen. Her hand tightens around the lamp handle.
I lead her to the final portrait, pulling the cover aside. A woman in black, silver knives glinting in her hands, glares from the canvas.
"This... this is Estella," I say. "She was something else entirely. An assassin."
Nima gasps.
"Yep," I murmur, almost fondly. "And on our first meeting she tried to kill me."
"And you still fell in love with her?" she whispers.
Nima stays silent. I give her space. It’s a lot, after all.
"So... how old are you?" she asks finally, voice small.
"Twenty-one," I answer automatically.
Her ears twitch. "Your true age."
"I..." I drag a hand through my hair. "I don’t know."
And I really don’t. My first life is blurred at the edges, like a photograph left out in the sun. I think I died in my forties? Then Yuxi. Then Evelyn. Then Estella. Not to mention that broken fairytale-world.
"I genuinely can’t remember," I admit, eyes sliding away from hers. "Maybe over two hundred?"
She gasps, ears jerking upright.
I can’t resist a smirk. "What? Don’t like me anymore now that I’m old, my little bunny?"
She stares at me, wide-eyed. "It just... makes sense now."
"What does?" I tilt my head, genuinely curious.
"Your personality," she murmurs. "The way you’re always sleeping, the way you’re bored, the way you act like you do..."
I feign an offended gasp. "Are you calling me old, my bunny?"
Her cheeks go pink. "N-no... maybe," she mumbles, eyes darting anywhere but at me.
I smile, just a little. "Well, now that you mention it, I am old," I say lightly.
Her eyes flick up to mine, and for a second there’s no teasing left—just honesty.
"Isn’t it a little sad," she whispers, "that you’re the only one who gets to remember?"
The words hit like an arrow straight to my chest. I swallow hard.
"Well..." I start, voice softer than I mean it to be.
"I can’t say it doesn’t break my heart a little—having to meet you again and seeing no recognition in your eyes. Pretending it’s the first time when I already know how you taste when you smile."
Nima’s ears flop low against her head, her gaze dropping. The lamp light flickers against her lashes.
"But think about it this way," I continue, reaching out to tilt her chin up.
"I get to have you fall in love with me again. And I get to fall in love with you again. Over and over."
Her breath catches, and when she speaks it’s barely a whisper.
"I don’t think I’m very impressive compared to them. I mean... they were literally more beautiful versions of me. More confident, cooler. An actress. A duchess. An assassin. And I’m just... a bunny."
I step closer, closing the last of the distance until we’re nearly touching.
"You are beautiful, Nima," I say, slow and deliberate.
"All versions of you are. Every single one of them."
Her eyes flicker up, wide and uncertain.
"But as much as that’s your soul, you’re your own person," I go on, my thumb brushing her jaw.
"You’ve lived a different life, with different scars and different dreams. I’ve loved getting to know you. Getting to fall in love with you again."
Her lips tremble at that. She doesn’t pull away when I lean in, just blinks up at me, caught somewhere between disbelief and hope.
"You really mean that?" she asks, voice breaking a little.
I smile, soft and sure. "I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t."