Ultimate Harem System

Chapter 6: The Club Owner

Johnny couldn’t help but admire as her curves were poured into the fabric like molten temptation, each movement deliberate, controlled, and lethal. Dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, lips crimson, eyes the sharp gleam of a predator sizing up her prey.

He grinned despite himself. “Sorry about the mess. Your guests weren’t exactly friendly.”

She descended the stairs slowly, hips swaying in rhythm with the bass still thumping through the speakers. Each step seemed choreographed to tease, to keep eyes on her and only her.

Every man in the city would have dropped to his knees just for a glance.

When she reached the floor, she didn’t spare a glance at her broken attackers scurrying away. Her gaze locked on Johnny like he was the only man alive.

“You did all this?” she asked, almost lazily, as though the answer didn’t matter, but the game of asking did.

Johnny smirked. “They started it. I finished it.”

“…Interesting,” she said. Her voice was honey dripping over a blade. “One man against seven, and you’re still standing. That shouldn’t be possible.”

Johnny straightened, smirking despite the blood on his knuckles. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

Her eyes flicked down his frame and back up again, slow enough to be deliberate. “Mmm. I can see that.”

---

[Hot Assignment Reminder: Successfully Flirt with Club Owner]

[Reward: Ownership of the Nebula Hotel + 50 Charm Points]

….

Johnny’s throat went dry. He’d flirted with the nurse —but She was something else. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was danger wrapped in silk.

Still… he had a hotel on the line.

“So…” Johnny said, stepping closer, lowering his voice into something smoother, “…you always make an entrance like that, or is tonight special?”

She tilted her head, lips curving into mischief. She leaned forward, close enough that her perfume—warm vanilla and smoke—coiled around him.

“Sweetheart, every night is special when I walk in the room.”

The system chimed.

…

[Charm Attempt Failed]

…

Johnny almost swore out loud.

She was playing with him. Testing him

“Mmm…” Her lips curved. “I should be thanking you, then. My security boys clearly aren’t worth the nails in their coffins.”

She trailed one red-painted nail along his chest, pausing just above his heartbeat. “You saved me trouble. Perhaps even my life.”

Johnny’s grin widened. “That’s one way of putting it. Another way is—you owe me.”

Her laugh was soft, musical, laced with mockery. “Owe you? Darling, men who think I owe them rarely leave my club smiling.”

Johnny leaned in slightly, refusing to back down. “Then maybe I’m not like other men.”

Her eyes gleamed, dangerous and amused. She leaned close enough for her perfume to curl around him, warm and intoxicating.

“Oh, you’re definitely not like other men.” She whispered it like a secret, her lips brushing his ear. “Other men don’t dress up as hospital escapee months below halloween.”

Johnny swallowed, his cocky façade flickering. She was toying with him.

“That’s.....an impossible tale to tell”

“I bet is” She replied coyly.

“Still,” he pressed, “I did take out a small army for you. Don’t I at least get a drink on the house?”

She tilted her head back and laughed, the sound wrapping around the room. Her hand slipped from his chest as she turned toward the bar.

“One drink. Only because I’m curious how long you’ll last before you bore me.”

Johnny followed, sliding onto a barstool beside her. The bartender scurried nervously, pouring top-shelf whiskey into crystal glasses. She signalled the bartender to leave, and accepted her glass with elegant fingers, raising it for a toast.

“To you, Johnny Steele,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips. “My clown in shining armour.”

Johnny smirked, offering a half-bow. “ And you are…?”

Her eyes narrowed. “The woman whose club you just turned into a graveyard. Cassandra Vale.”

The name rolled like smoke from her lips.

Johnny let his grin widen. “Cassandra. Gorgeous name. Fitting. With a name like that…beauty feels like an understatement.”

Cassandra arched one brow. “Is that your opening line?”

“Worked on the nurse.”

“Then perhaps your nurse had lower standards.”

Johnny clutched his chest like she’d shot him. “Ouch. Cold. You wound me.”

Her lips curled into the faintest smirk — not amusement, but jest. “You want me impressed, Mr. Steele? That’s going to take more than cheap lines and broken furniture.”

[Warning: Assignment at Risk of Failure.]

[Progress: 0%]

The words glared at him like neon disappointment. Johnny groaned.

Cassandra turned away, heading back toward the stairs. Conversation over.

Johnny slumped against the bar, muttering, “Smooth as sandpaper, Steele. Real smooth.”

That was when he heard it — a faint scrape at the doorway.

His eyes snapped up. One of the thugs that left earlier was at the window, dragging himself upright, blood smeared across his face. He staggered once, then pulled something from his jacket.

A small metal object. Round.

The world slowed down.

Grenade.

“DOWN!” Johnny shouted.

Cassandra froze, turning just as the thug hurled it. The grenade bounced once, clattering across the glass-strewn floor.

Johnny didn’t think. His body moved before his brain caught up.

He lunged, tackling Cassandra to the ground, shielding her with his body.

The last thing she saw was the flash of steel in the strobe lights—

And then the world exploded.

BOOM.