[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-qt-i-hijacked-a-harem-system-and-now-i-m-ruining":3,"chapter-qt-i-hijacked-a-harem-system-and-now-i-m-ruining-qt-i-hijacked-a-harem-system-and-now-i-m-ruining-chapter-151":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1854889,2462,"Chapter 151: Not a bad life","qt-i-hijacked-a-harem-system-and-now-i-m-ruining-chapter-151",151,"\u003Cp>Chapter 151 – Raffaele POV\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What the fuck has Daphne done?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sit perfectly still, hands folded in my lap like a hostage who’s decided silence is the safest form of resistance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Across from me, on opposite ends of my sitting room, Regina and Antonia are mid-debate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Correction: they’re mid-selection.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ofmyfuture wife.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I lean back against the armchair, trying to act composed while mentally considering if I can dive out the window and survive.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonia—rests elegantly on the chaise, one leg crossed over the other, blonde hair twisted into an effortless chignon, her sharp smile dipped in poison and perfume.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Regina lounges in my reading chair like she owns it, arms spread along the back, smirking with the smugness of someone who’s already picked out the engagement ring for me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I glance between them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Any sane man would be thrilled. Two devastatingly beautiful women discussing his marital future like it’s an elite chess game?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Except these women are terrifying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And they enjoy it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonia sips her wine. \"What about her?\" Regina asks, scrolling through a sleek tablet with dossier photos of eligible Castellano-affiliated daughters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonia doesn’t even glance up. \"No way.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why not?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"She’s tied to Luciano’s faction—finance sector. Her first cousin is his fiancée, and so are they.\" She waves a hand as if that explanation is obvious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And just like that, the girl’s face is gone, flicked off-screen like an ad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They continue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Methodical. Ruthless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brides are evaluated, discussed, eliminated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some for being too connected. Others for being too useless. Some because they’re already spies, or worse—boring.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stare at them in mild horror.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This must be what emperors felt like.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Overdressed. Underpowered. And completely at the mercy of their inner court.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They’re not even looking at me like I’m a person anymore. I’m a dynasty. A bloodline. A political merger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And disturbingly? It’s a little hot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Conflicting emotions, 10\u002F10. Would not recommend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonia pauses on a file. \"Hmm.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"No,\" Regina says immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why not?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"She has resting traitor face.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonia nods. \"You’re right.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sigh through my nose. \"You do realize I’m right here.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Both women glance at me, synchronized and unimpressed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then they ignore me and continue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My point exactly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I casually reach for my phone under the guise of scratching my neck and type a quick message to the architect of my misery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I hate you.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Daphne replies within seconds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s a selfie.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’s smirking, reclined luxuriously on a mountain of pillows. Behind her, clear as sin, is the curve of Estela’s cleavage—bare, gleaming, and unapologetically distracting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You should be happy. You get three of these.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I squint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’s not even trying to be helpful.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The conversation drags on. More dossiers are dismissed. Family trees examined. Bloodlines questioned like we’re breeding prize horses instead of forming lifelong political alliances.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally—mercifully—they land on a name.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Grace Marín.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I glance down at the tablet. A brunette, elegant and composed, with deceptively soft features and eyes that look like they know too much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Regina leans forward, tapping the screen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Marín controls the third sector. Public image and political alliances. New money, relatively. Rose to power through media and philanthropy. They’re the reason Castellano’s image remains spotless outside the country.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonia nods. \"She’s the perfect choice. She’ll bring you credibility, social control, and access to foreign influence. Also—no personal loyalties to Luciano or his finance clique.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I keep staring at the screen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Grace Marín.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why do I feel suspicious?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No, not familiar. Just... dangerous.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I have a hunch about her personality, and it’s shaped like two women currently in the room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I glance up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Right, so I’ll go—wait. Where are your clothes?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Regina and Antonia stand across from me—completely naked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not subtly undressing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Not mid-change.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Naked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blink.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Slowly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Well.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’m not complaining.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I rise from the chair, peeling off my shirt and tossing it over my shoulder like a man who has already surrendered to the madness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Regina’s on me in a second—her mouth finding mine with that practiced, hungry heat. Her fingers already tangled in my hair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Antonia moves without a word, already sinking to her knees like it’s an unspoken ritual. Efficient. Elegant. Wicked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And yeah...\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whatever.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This is not a bad life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>***\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Daphne POV\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Paranoid much?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You’d think Raffaele was smuggling state secrets. The sheer number of security checks, facial scans, biometric locks, and—was that a retina scanner?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I mutter under my breath as I pass the final checkpoint. Technically this is the minimum amount of security needed as a Castellano.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All this to drop off a bride-to-be.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At my side, Grace Marín walks in perfect silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I have a feeling Raffaele had no part in this decision making, I’ve seen his past flings. He fancies the type of woman, literally every Castellano man fancies the quiet, mild, submissive type.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another security checkpoint.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another hallway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, we reach Raffaele’s penthouse door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I punch in the code. Because of course I have it. I’m the reason this entire matchmaking operation is moving forward like a train I refuse to let derail.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I open the door, walk in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Grace follows, silent as ever, heels clicking softly on the marble floor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hello!!!\" I shout, voice echoing through the space.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Scuffling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The sound of something toppling. Fabric rustling. A muffled \"shit.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the door to the master bedroom swings open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And out walks Raffaele.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Very naked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Spectacularly naked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hair wild, blonde strands floating like a halo of regret. Eyes half-lidded. Skin flushed. And his shlong—swinging with casual indifference to diplomacy, decency, or gravity.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He yawns. \"Daphne?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We have company,\" I say, hands in pockets, completely unfazed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyes shift to the woman beside me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oh shit!\" he gasps, slamming the door shut so fast I swear I hear air bend.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I glance at Grace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She hasn’t moved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hasn’t blinked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If anything, I think I just saw the faintest twitch of a smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stroll into the open-plan kitchen like I own the place—which, for the record, I kind of do.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Water?\" I ask, already pulling out bottles with a smirk tugging at my mouth.\u003C\u002Fp>",1010,"2026-06-09T07:29:29.584Z",1,"novelbin.me","c840ed51e42334e1f89548111cdb5fc0942d09435087a855a48f605b10ecb7f1","qt-i-hijacked-a-harem-system-and-now-i-m-ruining-chapter-152","qt-i-hijacked-a-harem-system-and-now-i-m-ruining-chapter-250",399,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fqt-i-hijacked-a-harem-system-and-now-i-m-ruining-cover.jpg"]