Evil MC's NTR Harem

Ross entered the House of Fortune, the heavy doors closing behind him with a quiet thud.

The atmosphere inside buzzed with a strange mix of anticipation and curiosity.

All eyes turned toward him—some intrigued, others cautious—as he stepped onto the glossy marble floor beneath the glittering chandeliers.

Seventeen contestants had already arrived.

He paused, scanning the room in silence.

Nine men. Eight women.

One by one, his eyes evaluated them.

The men were loud, brimming with ego and testosterone, each trying to assert dominance in their own way—jokes, laughter, casual bragging.

Some flexed subtly while chatting; others tried to command attention with stories that reeked of exaggeration.

Then came the women.

Three were, frankly, unfortunate in appearance—either due to features that didn't sit right or a lack of presence altogether.

One had a face so average it was almost impressive in its forgettability.

But the final five—ah, they were different.

They stood out without even trying.

Beauty came easy to them, ranging in age from 18 to 25.

One had a fiery look in her eyes and curves that turned heads wherever she walked.

Another had a quiet elegance, like a porcelain doll brought to life.

A third wore confidence like a second skin, her laugh echoing like a chime.

Ross took in each detail—from the way they carried themselves to the subtle glances they threw at the cameras.

These were women used to attention.

And soon, they'd have his.

A hidden smile formed behind his sleek black mask.

He had plans for these five—but that would come later.

For now, it was time to blend in. Time to play the part.

"Hey, man. How's it going?" a voice cut through the chatter, friendly and open.

Ross turned to face the speaker.

"I'm Corey," the guy continued, extending a hand.

"What's your name? And, uh, what's with the mask? You some kind of ninja or something?"

Corey looked like the textbook definition of a popular guy.

Tall, clean-cut, and clearly aware of his good looks.

His smile was easy, his confidence effortless. His muscles were toned and well-shaped, hinting at dedication in the gym, but compared to Ross—whose physique was not just built but carved from years of rigorous discipline—he came across as soft around the edges.

Ross accepted the handshake with a firm grip. "Big D," he said evenly, offering nothing more.

Corey chuckled. "Big D, huh? That supposed to stand for something?"

Ross said nothing. His silence spoke volumes.

Corey raised a brow, half-amused and half-unsettled. "Alright then… mystery man. Welcome to the circus."

As Corey drifted back toward a cluster of other contestants, Ross took a slow walk around the room.

He noted alliances already forming, rivalries already brewing beneath the surface. People were choosing sides without even realizing it.

That was fine.

Let them talk, laugh, flirt, or fight.

He wasn't here to play their game.

He was here to rewrite the rules.

***

The day wore on, and Ross remained as distant as ever.

He sat quietly in a corner of the lounge, arms crossed, his masked face unreadable.

He didn't attempt to join any group conversations.

He didn't laugh at jokes, offer introductions, or even make eye contact unless necessary.

He was simply… there.

A looming presence that neither approached nor retreated. Just watching. Waiting.

Naturally, the others took notice.

"Look at him," one of the girls whispered, not even bothering to lower her voice that much. "He hasn't spoken to a single person all day. I bet he's the first one to get evicted."

"Same," another chimed in, rolling her eyes. "It's like he doesn't even care. I mean, come on—he's wearing a mask. Who does that? He looks more like a paid actor or some weird stuntman than a real contestant."

"I don't know what the producers are thinking," someone else added with a scoff. "Maybe it's some twist? Like, 'Guess who the silent weirdo really is.' Whatever it is, they gave us a clown, not a housemate."

And yet, despite all their mocking, the group couldn't seem to stop talking about him.

Ross—Big D—had become the most discussed figure in the house, all without uttering more than two words.

"Big D… what kind of name is that anyway?" one of the girls said with a giggle. "If it means what I think it does, I wouldn't be surprised. Just look at his build. That man is thick and tall. Like, damn."

The other girls laughed, pretending to brush it off, but a few of them had already stolen second glances.

He was a mystery wrapped in muscle, and whether they admitted it or not, curiosity was slowly turning into obsession.

Ross, sitting in silence, heard everything. Every whisper. Every insult. Every joke at his expense.

And he smiled behind the mask.

***

Lunch hour arrived, and the atmosphere in the house shifted into one of forced cheerfulness.

With cameras rolling from every corner, the contestants sprang into action, each eager to show off their best side.

Smiles were wide, voices overly friendly, and laughter came just a little too easily.

They chopped vegetables, stirred pots, set the table—everyone pitching in to look like a harmonious, cooperative group.

Everyone… except Ross.

He hadn't moved an inch from his spot.

While the others bustled about the kitchen, trading banter and pretending to bond, Ross sat alone like a silent sentinel.

Arms folded, legs stretched out, mask hiding every flicker of expression.

He didn't lift a finger. Didn't offer help. Didn't even glance in their direction.

Some shot him annoyed glances. Others ignored him completely.

"He really thinks he's above this?" one muttered under their breath while dicing onions.

"Let him rot in the corner," another whispered. "He won't last."

Eventually, lunch was ready. The aroma of grilled meats, stir-fried vegetables, and steaming rice filled the house.

The contestants gathered around the long dining table, plates in hand, still smiling for the ever-present cameras.

Just as someone reached for a serving spoon, a sharp, clear chime echoed through the house.

Ding!

Everyone froze. Heads turned toward the overhead speakers, anticipation flickering across their faces.

Even Ross shifted slightly in his seat, one eyebrow lifting behind the mask.

Something was about to happen.