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

Her complexion had improved significantly, her energy restored. She twisted the cap off the bottle with her bare hands, the scent of alcohol wafting through the air.

"Hey, where the hell did you get that?" Arataki shot up from his seat, pointing at the vodka.

Rin leaned back lazily. "One of the rooms. Your mansion is a maze, by the way—I got lost and just happened to find it."

Arataki's eye twitched. "That's not how that works."

"You're still recovering. You shouldn't be drinking—" Haruto started, but Rin cut him off with a scoff.

"Of course not! I'm not some barbarian."

She reached into her jacket, pulling out an assortment of bottles and cans—orange juice, soda, and who knows what else—stacking them on the table.

"I came prepared."

She turned to Arataki with a smirk. "Got any glasses?"

Before Arataki could respond, Old Futto groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can we stop with the nonsense? You said you're willing to help us, right?"

"Oh, yeah, absolutely." Rin waved him off casually. "Not like I have anything to lose."

She leaned forward with a sly grin. "But before we jump into business, wouldn't it be better if I got to know you guys first?"

Her fingers tapped against the vodka bottle playfully. "So, here's the deal—I'll be your bartender for today, and we'll talk about all the bullshit in our lives."

Enji clapped his hands together, grinning. "You heard her, Arataki. Get the glasses!"

Arataki let out a deep sigh but got up to retrieve them anyway.

Once he returned, Rin started mixing the drinks, pouring the different liquids together with the precision of someone who had done this before.

She handed each of them a glass filled with her concoction.

Old Futto took a sip immediately, humming in approval. Enji followed suit, chuckling at the taste. Meanwhile, Haruto and Arataki merely stared at their glasses, reluctant.

"What's with those looks?" Rin raised a brow.

"Just drink it! And—wait a second—what are your names again?" She tilted her head.

"Now that I think about it, all of you know my name, but I don't even know yours."

Haruto eyed the suspicious-looking drink before responding. "Haruto Hayase. That's Arataki Yuuto, Old Futto, and—"

"My name is Enji." Enji flashed a grin. "Let's get along from now on, yeah?"

Rin, however, was already moving on. "So, what do you guys do? Unemployed? Students? Gangsters?" She took a sip of her own bizarre blend without hesitation.

The group exchanged glances before Old Futto shrugged. "A mix of all three, really."

"And you? You're a good fighter. I saw you in action yesterday via the hidden camera before it got broken. You were impressive."

Rin exhaled, swirling her drink. "I used to be a bodyguard before I got sick." Her voice dipped slightly, the weight of her past settling into her tone.

"Then I decided to spend the rest of my life avenging my best friend. It might be a weird thing to do."

A heavy silence followed her words.

"That's not weird," Haruto said firmly.

He could understand that feeling all too well. If he only had a few months left to live, he'd probably do the same—if not worse.

Rin squinted at him before pointing a finger.

"You. You're a good guy." A small smile tugged at her lips.

"I grew up in an orphanage. My best friend… she was the only person I had. Just me and her against the world." Her voice softened, a tinge of nostalgia bleeding through.

"What was her name?" Haruto asked.

"Keiko." Rin's expression became distant.

"She was the most beautiful and kindest woman in the world."

"I believe so, since you're the one who said it." Enji winked, still unwilling to give up on his flirtation.

But, of course, Rin acted as if he didn't exist. She had no interest in entertaining a man—especially a younger one—when she only had a couple of months left to live.

Forming attachments now was pointless. She didn't want to linger in anyone's memory, didn't want to be someone mourned or remembered.

She preferred to be a fleeting shadow, here today, gone tomorrow.

"Anyway," Arataki interjected, shifting the topic, "Haruto said you've got a lot of weapons, especially firearms."

"Where do you get all of them?" His tone carried genuine curiosity—after all, he had an interest in that kind of business.

"Forget it," Haruto chimed in before Rin could answer.

He leaned back, arms crossed, recalling how dismissive she'd been when he had asked the same thing. "She won't tell you."

Rin smirked, resting her chin on her palm. "Just say I got them from a friend."

Arataki raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" Your next read awaits at My Virtual Library Empire

"I can't give details. You know—privacy."

Haruto shot Arataki a knowing look. "Told you."

Arataki exhaled, shaking his head in disappointment.

No one said anything after that, and instead, they spent the night drinking and talking, sharing fleeting moments of camaraderie.

Bonds were formed—temporary, fragile, but real in that moment. And for that night, at least, they were happy.

***

"It has to be Haruto! He's the one who impersonated me and worked with that crazy woman!" Ren shouted, his frustration boiling over.

He was still confined to a hospital bed, his body wrapped in bandages, wounds scattered across his skin.

Even his face… the doctor said the scars would be permanent. There was no fixing that.

He had been hiding like a fool, locked away in this room. But now, knowing his business was in ruins and his men were dead, he couldn't just sit still.

"Even if that's true, we can't attack him openly," Azuma said, his tone calm despite the chaos.

"He's still under the Murder of Crows' protection, remember?"

Azuma had been taking time off for the past couple of weeks, but the moment he returned, everything was already a mess.

And the worst part? Daiki didn't seem to care.

"What's your plan?" Azuma finally asked, turning to Daiki.

The man lay sprawled across the hospital room's sofa, casually flipping through a comic book as if he hadn't been beaten and left with a deep wound on his neck just a day ago.

"Hm?" Daiki barely glanced up. "Azuma is right. Just do what you want, Ren. Just don't make it obvious." He spoke lazily, even humming to himself as if he were in a good mood.

Ren grinned. "I'll handle it, then. That bastard won't get away with this."

He smirked as he pulled out his phone, staring at a picture of a woman—Haruto standing beside her.

"I'll make sure he knows he messed with the wrong person." His grin widened.

Azuma, uninterested in whatever Ren was plotting, stepped closer to Daiki and whispered, "What's your plan?"

"Plan? I don't have one." Daiki replied honestly, his lips curling into an amused smile.

"I just find it interesting that there's a woman who can fight on par with me."

His smile sent a shiver down Azuma's spine.

Daiki continued, flipping another page of his comic.

"Besides, you really think an ordinary guy could perfectly impersonate your face? Even if it was Haruto, your heights don't match."

His eyes gleamed with curiosity. "That man I found in the office… he was strange. Interesting."

Azuma listened closely, while Ren continued rambling nonsense neither of them cared to hear.

"Oh, right," Daiki added casually. "That girl I mentioned a few days ago—do you have her information yet?"

"Not yet, but it won't take long. A girl with her description isn't exactly common. She'll be easy to find."

"Good. Keep at it."

And with that, the room was filled with Ren's maniacal laughter, Daiki lazily turning another page, and Azuma silently praying Ren wouldn't screw things up again.