Netori: I Shall Steal All Of My Enemies' Women For Revenge!

Haruto froze.

His mind raced. Why wasn't his skill working? But that was impossible.

The system kept notifying him that his appearance was still Ren and it would soon fade, and a quick glance at his reflection in the cabinet's glass confirmed it—he still looked like Ren.

'Is he bluffing? No… it's because I'm not acting like Ren.'

Suppressing his nerves, Haruto forced a laugh, keeping his expression relaxed.

"What are you saying? Are you drunk? Do I look like someone else to you?"

Panic would only make things worse. He had to keep his composure.

Daiki's lips curled into a smirk. "Then tell me—why did you say you'd kill Haruto? The last time I saw you in the hospital, you were scared shitless of him."

Haruto's fists clenched.

'Dumbass! Of course, that bastard would be traumatized! He's a coward!'

He scrambled for a response, forcing his voice to shake slightly as if regaining his confidence.

"W-Well, that's because I wasn't in my right mind back then! He almost killed me! But now—" Haruto straightened his back, his tone turning cocky like Ren's.

"Now, it's different. I want to kill him, and I'll make sure he's dead."

Daiki's smirk deepened. He tilted his head, mocking amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Then you should know… I don't like alcohol, right?"

Haruto's breath hitched.

'Shit.' His eyes widened. Daiki knew from the start.

The realization sent a chill down Haruto's spine—Daiki was far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

He wasn't just a sadistic, psychotic gangster. He was sharp. His instincts were razor-sharp.

Haruto's grip tightened around the bottle in his hand. 'Can't be helped.'

Just as he swung he stopped as he could hear sound coming from the door and both of them turned their heads.

The doorknob rattled violently as if someone was forcing it open.

A loud crash followed as the lock shattered, the door swinging slightly open before—

BAM!

The door slammed to the floor, kicked open with brutal force making the door fall to the ground.

A woman stepped inside.

She had short black hair, her figure wrapped in a tight black dress. The golden belt around her waist glinted under the dim light.

Before either of them could react, the woman lifted her dress—

Guns. She had guns.

Without hesitation, she aimed and opened fire.

"What the fuck?!"

Haruto cursed, diving behind the desk, and yanking the flash drive from the CPU in the process.

Daiki ducked behind the sofa, narrowly avoiding the storm of bullets tearing through the room.

The woman kept shooting, stepping inside with deadly precision, sweeping her aim as if searching for her targets.

The woman moved swiftly, her heels clicking against the soft carpet as she shifted her aim.

Her cold, dark eyes locked onto Daiki, her lips twisting into a smirk as she pulled the trigger.

The bullet whizzed through the air, barely missing him as he threw himself to the side.

The moment the gunfire ceased, Daiki exploded into motion.

His foot kicked against the coffee table, sending it crashing into the woman's legs, but she twisted, leaping over it with feline agility.

Her gun was already trained on him, finger tightening on the trigger.

Daiki ducked low, grabbing the nearest object—a whiskey bottle from the alcohol cabinet.

He flung it straight at her head. She barely managed to dodge, the glass shattering against the wall, amber liquid splattering across the floor.

The sharp tang of alcohol filled the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood.

Using the split-second distraction, Daiki lunged, grabbing her wrist to wrench the gun from her grasp.

She twisted, countering with a sharp knee to his ribs.

The impact was solid, but Daiki absorbed it, his expression turned into a smirk, as if what she had done was something interesting.

"Not bad. You're the first woman to actually land a hit on me."

He used this momentum to slam her against the massive black chest drawer.

Her breath hitched from the force, but she retaliated instantly, her free hand pulling a knife from her thigh holster.

The blade gleamed under the dim lighting as she slashed at him. Daiki barely evaded, feeling the sting as the knife nicked his forearm.

He didn't flinch, his focus unwavering as he forced her gun-wielding hand against the drawer, bending her wrist back at an unnatural angle.

"Fuck." the woman cursed. With a sharp grunt, she released the gun.

"What a good time to exercise, huh? You are not bad even with your fancy weapon."

Daiki commented as the gun clattered onto the red carpet.

But before Daiki could reach for it, she brought her knee up again, aiming for his stomach. He twisted, catching her leg and sweeping it out from under her.

She crashed onto the coffee table, the impact splintering the wood.

Before she could recover, Daiki was on her, his hand around her throat, pressing down with calculated force.

"What a shame, everything needs to end," he said as he choked her harder and her face started to turn blue.

Her body arched, muscles straining, but her grip remained firm on the knife. Enjoy exclusive adventures from My Virtual Library Empire

With a sharp twist of her wrist, she drove the blade toward his side.

Daiki shifted just in time, the blade slicing through the fabric of his shirt, grazing his skin. He didn't loosen his grip.

Instead, he used his weight to pin her down further, his other hand striking down to disarm her completely.

She let out a strangled sound, then suddenly went limp.

"Just that? I thought you would be more stubborn."

As expected, the moment he slightly loosened his hold, she moved.

Her legs snapped up, locking around his waist as she rolled, reversing their positions.

Now he was the one pinned, her knife pressing dangerously close to his throat.

Her breaths came out ragged, her body shaking from the exertion, but her eyes burned with ruthless determination.

"You're good," Daiki murmured with a sadistic grin, completely unfazed by the position he was in.

She didn't waste words. She pressed down, aiming to finish it.

Daiki's hand shot up, gripping her wrist mid-motion. His other hand slammed into her elbow, forcing her arm back.

The knife jerked away from his throat just enough for him to twist out from under her.

They rolled across the room, knocking over one of the black chest drawers.

The impact sent a rain of box of drawers scattering across the floor. Neither paid them any mind.

Daiki used his superior strength to shove her back against the sofa.

She braced against it, using the momentum to lash out with a spinning kick aimed at his head.

He ducked, retaliating with a brutal punch to her ribs.

The force sent her staggering back, slamming against the alcohol cabinet. Bottles rattled, one falling and rolling onto the floor.

She gritted her teeth and lunged again, slashing at his chest with the knife.

Daiki didn't step back—he stepped in.

He caught her wrist, twisting it at the perfect angle.

A sharp crack echoed in the room as the knife finally slipped from her grasp, embedding itself into the carpet.

The pain barely registered on her face before he drove his elbow into her stomach. She coughed, doubling over, but still refused to fall.

Daiki watched her with cold amusement.

"Persistent," he muttered.

She growled and tried to strike again, but he anticipated it. He sidestepped, grabbing her from behind in a chokehold.

She struggled, her body thrashing against him, her nails clawing at his arm.

Daiki tightened his grip, pressing against her windpipe. Her struggles became weaker.

Her vision blurred.

Just as her body went slack, something crashed against Daiki's skull.

His body jerked. His grip loosened. His vision blurred.

And then—

CRASH!

The second impact was worse. The sharp sound of shattering glass rang through the room as the warm liquid poured down his head, the thick scent of whiskey filling the air.

Daiki's entire body swayed. His hands went limp, his eyes rolling back as the pain spread through his skull.

He barely had time to process what happened before His body collapsed onto the floor.

Behind him, Haruto stood panting, gripping the broken neck of the whiskey bottle in his hands.

His pulse pounded in his ears, his breath ragged, but he refused to let Daiki win. Running away wasn't an option.

Neither was abandoning the woman. She had to be one of Ren's victims, someone seeking justice in her own way.

'But damn, she's strong,' he thought, his gaze flickering to her battered figure.

The woman coughed, pushing Daiki's limp body off her. Sweat clung to her skin, and a thin trail of blood ran down her arm from a shallow cut.

Her dark eyes darted between Daiki's unconscious form and Haruto's trembling hands. The silence between them stretched, thick with tension.

Then, in a single, fluid motion, she rolled to the side, snatched up her fallen gun, and pointed it straight at him.

Haruto's breath caught.

He turned off the skill and assumed knocking Daiki out would automatically make them allies. Clearly, he was wrong.

He slowly raised his hands, forcing himself to stay calm. "Whoa, easy. I'm not your enemy, see? I helped you."