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The morning sun spilled lazily through the tall windows of the mansion, golden beams catching on the polished floor and dust motes drifting like tiny spirits. The house was alive with the low hum of daily activity—footsteps, soft chatter, the clink of mugs in the kitchen. I stretched luxuriously as if I had earned the peace of the morning, then sat up, a grin tugging at my lips.

They didn't know.

Not yet, anyway.

I was awake, and the real Ren—the boring, hesitant, overly cautious fool—was fast asleep inside, locked away. His precious body was mine to command for now. And I had no intention of wasting the opportunity.

I sauntered into the living room where most of them had gathered. Akane was already stretching out on the rug, her toned arms reaching overhead, the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead from an early workout. Mei lounged on the couch, flipping one of her daggers in lazy circles while pretending she wasn't watching everyone else. Elira sat primly with a book in her lap, posture regal even in the comfort of morning. And on the far side, Sora and Rin were curled together, Rin tugging the hood of her sweater low over her fox ears like she thought it could hide her forever, Sora soothing her with quiet whispers.

And then there was Ayame.

Standing near the window, blade in hand, practicing precise arcs of movement. Discipline in every motion, elegance woven into steel. My smile widened. My so-called "creator." She hadn't meant to give me life, not truly. I was a mistake, an accident born of her strike and Ren's weakness. But still… without her, I wouldn't be here at all. That had to count for something.

"Good morning, ladies," I announced cheerfully, arms spread wide as if I'd just returned from some heroic venture. My voice carried a brightness that was just a little too sharp, a little too fake, and the way they all turned toward me told me they caught it.

Akane arched a brow. "You're chipper. Did you actually sleep, or are you running on fumes?"

I shot her a smirk. "I don't need sleep to be this good-looking, Akane. But thanks for your concern."

She blinked once, unimpressed, and went back to stretching. Rude.

Mei flicked her dagger and snorted. "Somebody's full of himself this morning."

"Somebody's just jealous," I fired back, striding past her with a mocking wink. "Careful, Mei, that dagger looks compensatory."

Her jaw tightened, and I heard the soft click of metal as the dagger spun faster. Perfect. Teasing her was easy. Too easy.

Elira's eyes lifted from her book, cool and assessing. "You sound different this morning."

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Different? Maybe you've just been listening wrong. Or maybe," I leaned closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially, "you're finally starting to notice my charm."

Her lips pursed, clearly resisting the urge to scold me, and she returned to her book. That small victory was enough.

I let my gaze linger on Rin and Sora next. Rin wouldn't even look at me, her hood tugged so far down it nearly covered her face. Her tail flicked in restless irritation. Sora gave me a hesitant smile, polite but wary, like she couldn't put her finger on what was wrong but knew something was off.

I clicked my tongue and waved a hand dismissively. "You two look cozy. Just don't get fur all over the furniture, yeah?"

Sora's smile faltered. Rin stiffened, her shoulders hunching tighter, but neither of them spoke. The sting in their silence was delicious.

But then—Ayame moved.

Her blade cut through the air with that sharp, practiced sound, and my attention snapped back to her like iron to a magnet. Every motion was precise, intentional, honed. She was exquisite.

I strode toward her, ignoring the others entirely now. "Ayame," I said warmly, almost reverently. "Perfect form, as always. Honestly, it's a crime you waste your talent training here instead of showing the whole world what real discipline looks like."

Her sword stopped mid-swing. She turned, eyes narrowing just slightly, suspicion lurking there. "You're unusually flattering today."

"Not flattering. Honest," I corrected smoothly, stepping closer into Ayame's personal space, enough that she stiffened. "You're different. Strong. A cut above the rest."

I could feel the others behind me—their stares, their quiet confusion—but I didn't care. Let them watch. Ayame was the one worth my attention.

My hand drifted near the steel of her blade, not quite touching it but hovering close, as if daring her to move. "You and I—we understand discipline. We understand strength. The others… they'll never get it the way you do."

Her jaw tightened. "You're saying strange things, Ren."

Strange. Maybe. But I only smiled. "No, just honest. You have a gravity to you. A pull. The rest of them orbit, but you…" I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "You're the one worth standing beside."

Ayame's eyes flicked toward the others, then back at me, cautious. She edged her blade back an inch, putting subtle distance between us. "Be careful with your words."

Behind me, I heard Akane mutter, "What's with him today?"

Mei's arms crossed, her usual smirk replaced with suspicion. "He's laying it on thick. Too thick. That's not him."

Elira shut her book with a snap, her voice calm but edged. "Something is off."

Their suspicion didn't bother me—it amused me. They could feel the shift but couldn't name it. And why would they? I looked like him. Spoke like him. Wore his skin like it was mine.

Ayame though… Ayame mattered. Whether she knew it or not, she was the center of this gravity. And the more the others frowned and questioned, the more I found myself pulled toward her.

After all, I wasn't Ren.

But they didn't need to know that. Not now. Not ever.

---

The room was mine, even if none of them realized it yet. Their glares, their murmurs, their half-hidden doubts—they were all just background noise to the little play I was directing.

And at the center of it stood Ayame.

She sat at the far end of the couch, spine straight, arms crossed, blade leaned carefully against her knee like a silent warning. Her eyes tracked me the way a hunter watches a wolf—wary, calculating. But even that edge of mistrust only made her more captivating.

I let the silence hang for a moment, savoring the weight of their collective unease. Then I smiled, sharp and deliberate.

"Ayame," I said smoothly, voice carrying just enough to draw every gaze in the room, "why don't we have lunch together? Just the two of us."

The words landed like a hammer strike.

Akane's brow shot up. Mei froze mid-stretch, daggers spinning forgotten between her fingers. Elira's lips parted, her calm composure cracking with surprise. Even Sora, sweet little Sora, stopped fiddling with her charmwork and stared.

It was delicious—the stunned silence, the unspoken what did he just say? that hung in the air.

Ayame blinked, clearly caught off guard. A faint crease appeared between her brows. "L–Lunch? With… you?"

Her hesitation was fuel. I stepped forward, closing the space between us, letting my presence press down like a weight. The others didn't matter; they could stew in their shock. She was all that mattered.

"Yes," I said softly, leaning down just enough that the words were for her alone but still audible to the room. "Lunch. With me."

Her mouth opened, the start of some stammered protest, but I lifted a hand. "Shhh…"

My palm brushed against her lips, firm but gentle, silencing her before she could untangle the refusal. Her eyes widened, flicking from my hand back up to my gaze, heat and tension caught in the space between us.

And then I stepped closer still. Close enough that she couldn't pull back without conceding the ground. Close enough that every breath was shared.

"Don't answer," I whispered, low and steady. "I already know."

And before she could steel herself, before the others could so much as gasp, I tilted my head and pressed my lips to hers.

The air in the room fractured.

I felt the jolt ripple through her body, her rigid discipline locking against the suddenness of it. Her hands twitched, caught between reaching for her blade and shoving me away. But I didn't let her choose. The kiss wasn't rough—it was controlled, deliberate, a claim more than a gesture of affection.

Behind us, the silence cracked into chaos.

"What the hell, Ren?!" Akane's voice cut sharp, disbelief laced with anger.

Mei's dagger clattered against the floor, her mouth open, for once without a quip. "You've got to be kidding me…"

Sora gasped, hands clutched to her chest, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and hurt.

Even Elira, ever-composed, rose from her seat with a sharp inhale, the ancient weight of her magic prickling faintly in the air.

I broke the kiss slowly, deliberately, savoring the heat of their eyes boring into my back. Ayame's face was a storm—flushed, conflicted, furious—and it only made me grin wider.

"See?" I said, letting my hand slip away from her lips as if nothing were out of place. "Sometimes words get in the way of truth."

Ayame didn't answer. She couldn't—not with the way every eye in the room was on us, not with the battle raging behind her own steel-gray gaze. Her silence was enough.

The others hadn't moved, caught between outrage and uncertainty.

Then—

[System Notification]

> ⚠ Current Action has destabilized the Mansion Dynamic.

Harem Balance Disrupted.

Immediate correction required to prevent severe consequences.

For a moment, my grin faltered. The words burned across my vision, stark and undeniable, like judgment branded into the air. The System's tone wasn't playful this time—it was cold, clinical, warning of something bigger than petty jealousy.

Balance. Correction. Consequences.

I laughed under my breath, low and defiant, forcing the edge of unease from my face before any of them could see it. But inside, a spark of irritation gnawed at me. Why should there be consequences? Why should balance matter, when power was right here in my hands?

The others couldn't see the glowing notice hanging before me, but their eyes said enough. Akane's fists trembled. Mei's smirk was gone, replaced by razor suspicion. Elira's magic stirred faintly in the air, a storm waiting to break. Sora's eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

And Ayame… Ayame was caught in the middle, the storm's unwilling axis.

The System had chosen its words carefully. Balance disrupted. As if my kiss had tipped some hidden scale. As if all of them, together, were the weights keeping this fragile house from collapse.

Well.

Let it collapse.

I turned then, finally granting the others my attention. Their faces were a buffet of emotions—shock, suspicion, anger, even betrayal. I spread my arms lightly, as if to say, What's the problem?

"Is something wrong?" I asked smoothly, feigning innocence, snapping the notification away with a blink and turning my grin back on them. "You're all acting as if I've done something unthinkable."

Akane took a sharp step forward, fists clenched. "That's not you, Ren. You'd never—"

"Never what?" I cut in, my voice suddenly edged. "Never show what I want? Never act on what I feel?" I gestured toward Ayame, who was still silent, still reeling. "I'm just being honest. Something all of you are too afraid to be."

The room thickened with tension, the others exchanging glances—uncertain, unsettled, searching for the Ren they thought they knew.

But Ren was gone, buried deep.

And I?

I was free.

Free to walk his halls, wear his skin, and claim the one who mattered.

Ayame might resist, might deny, but it didn't matter. A mistake or not, she had carved me into existence. And with every moment, I'd make her realize just how tightly our fates were knotted together.

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