A Weird Revenge NTR System (Beta)-Chapter 13 - 12

The coffee shop's warmth enveloped Kaito Nakamura like a lover's smothering embrace, the air thick with the bitter tang of espresso and the hum of idle chatter, pressing against his skin until he felt suffocated.

Yet he remained a shadow within it, hunched over the corner table, his world reduced to the flickering pulse of Aiko beside him—her presence a radiant, festering wound he couldn't ignore.

Outside, a relentless drizzle streaked the windows, smearing the streets into a dull gray haze, but inside, his mind churned, raw and jagged, fractured by the RNTR app's cruel, insidious game.

His phone weighed heavy in his pocket, its cracked screen a silent omen, the memory of its last buzz searing the rules into his brain: Riku as the target, Aiko his unwilling key, twenty love points to unlock a perverse revenge on Riku's sister or mother.

His fist throbbed beneath the table, blood crusting over split knuckles, his damp hoodie clinging to his frame, glasses smudged with fog—but he forced a smile, thin and brittle, playing the part of her doting boyfriend, her awkward, nerdy shadow.

Aiko perched beside him—too close, always too damn close—her damp sweater hugging her body, the fabric stretched taut over the swell of her breasts, a faded coffee stain still darkening the wool.

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder, the ends brushing his arm with every shift, sending a shiver of unwanted heat through him.

She chattered on, her voice light and bubbly, a stream of nonsense about some test she'd aced, her red nails tapping a staccato rhythm on the table, her vanilla perfume curling into his nostrils, thick and cloying.

A tiny bell on her keychain jingled as she moved, a sound that grated against his nerves.

He nodded, half-listening, half-sinking into the mire of his thoughts—her giggles a flimsy veil over the memory that haunted him: Aiko, sprawled in a sink, Riku pounding into her, her moans echoing, cum glistening on her thighs, that same cute face twisted in rapture.

The image burned, a shard of glass lodged deep in his chest.

He hated her—visceral, consuming—but needed her, craved the "love" points she dangled before him, a means to twist this knife back into Riku's gut, to play this sick, twisted game.

Twenty points, he thought, jaw tight, get them, use her—rage simmering beneath a fraying thread of denial.

She shivered suddenly, a small, delicate tremble, rubbing her arms where the wet sweater clung cold and unforgiving to her skin.

"Ugh, this is still soaked—gross," she whined, her voice high and girlish, lips pouting in a glossy, fuckable curve that mocked him.

His stomach twisted, hate flaring hot and sharp, but the app's rules whispered in his skull—love points, now—and he saw the opening, a move in this perverse chess game.

"Hold on," he muttered, voice rough and strained, pushing to his feet, the chair scraping loud against the floor.

He shuffled to the counter, hoodie sagging off his bony frame, glasses slipping down his nose, the last of his coins clinking in his sweaty palm as he ordered—a hot cocoa, extra whipped cream, her favorite, a nerd's pathetic tribute to his cheating goddess.

He returned, the cup steaming in his hands, the rich scent of chocolate curling up to meet him, and set it before her without meeting her eyes, his bloody fist tucked out of sight.

"Here," he rasped, awkward and stiff, sinking back into his seat, glasses fogging from the heat radiating off the drink.

Her eyes widened, big and sparkling, a gasp escaping her lips.

"Oh my gosh, Kaito!" she squealed, bright and unbearably cute, snatching the cup and sipping fast, whipped cream smearing across her upper lip in a way that sent a dark, unbidden pulse through him.

"You're the best, babe—so sweet!" She beamed, radiant and disarming, her warmth brushing against him like a tease, and his phone buzzed—sharp and sudden—in his pocket, the vibration sinking low, igniting something primal beneath his hate.

He fumbled for it, cracked screen flickering to life, red text blazing against the black void.

Visit freёnovelkiss.com for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience.

[Love Points Earned: 5]

[Current Total: 5/20]

A flicker of something dark curled his lips, an unconscious smirk, the app's chime a twisted thrill threading through his loathing.

She giggled again, oblivious—"Thanks, seriously"—licking the cream from her lip with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue, her warmth grazing him as she leaned closer.

He nodded, mute, his smile a brittle mask, feeding her gratitude while his mind churned—five down, fifteen to go—the app's game a shadow dragging him deeper, his fist clenching beneath the table, blood flaking onto his jeans.

She shivered again, harder this time, rubbing her arms as the damp sweater clung tighter, goosebumps prickling across her exposed collarbone.

"God, this is freezing—wish I'd brought a spare," she groaned, pouting deeper, her whine a blade twisting in his guts.

He hated her—wanted to snarl, you fucked Riku, you filthy slut—but the app pulsed in his pocket, insistent, urging him forward—points, now—and he moved, slow and deliberate, shrugging off his hoodie.

The damp fabric peeled away from his skin, revealing a stained tee clinging to his scrawny chest, his skinny arms trembling as the cool air bit into him.

"Here," he said, voice flat and forced, holding it out—the hoodie rank with sweat and rain but still warm from his body, a perverse offering.

She blinked, eyes widening, then grinned, bright and dazzling, snatching it from his grasp.

"Kaito, you're too good!" she chirped, her voice a melody of false innocence, slipping the hoodie on in one fluid motion.

Beneath it, she tugged off her wet sweater, a flash of pink fabric and black lace bra peeking through—her skin pale and smooth, curves teasing the air—before his oversized hoodie swallowed her whole, draping over her frame, her damp sweater discarded in a heap, the bell jingling as she adjusted.

She hugged herself, giggling, snuggling deeper into the gray fabric—"So cozy, babe—you're amazing!"—and leaned in, her lips pressing a soft, wet kiss to his cheek, hot with cocoa and laced with vanilla, the scent flooding his senses.

His gut lurched, nausea surging, hate roaring like a storm in his chest—but his phone buzzed again, sharp and loud, the screen flaring in his lap, red text searing into his vision.

[Love Points Earned: 15]

[Current Total: 20/20]

[Stage 1 Completed: Love Points Acquired]

[Stage 2 Unlocked: Select Secondary Target]

A smile spread across his face, slow and unconscious, a dark, twisted glee breaking through his mask, the app's chime a rush of adrenaline in his veins.

Two names flashed onto the screen—Mika Sato, Riku's sister, 18, petite with a blonde-streaked bob, her shy smile taunting him; and Yumi Sato, Riku's mother, 40, curvy with dark curls tumbling over her shoulders, her stern jaw a challenge.

Pictures glared back at him: Mika's delicate frame, Yumi's fuller, commanding presence.

His chest tightened—what the fuck?—rage and confusion crashing together, the system's game spiraling into a dark abyss he couldn't escape.

Aiko tilted her head, eyes glinting with curiosity.

"Why're you smiling, babe?" she asked, her voice soft and lilting, cutting through the haze of his thoughts.

He froze, smile faltering, phone clutched tight in his hand, the cracked screen biting into his palm, blood smearing across the glass.

"Just..." he rasped, voice low and forced, searching for a lie, stalling—"thinking how deep this goes, you and me."

The words hung heavy, vague, a truth he couldn't voice laced within the deception.

She blinked, cute and puzzled—"Huh? Deep how?"—and he shrugged, dismissive—"You wouldn't get it"—his smile fading, eyes dropping to the table, the app's weight a dark pulse throbbing in his skull.

She laughed, light and airy, brushing it off—"You're so weird sometimes"—sipping her cocoa, snug in his hoodie, her warmth radiating against him, oblivious to the tempest raging inside.

His fist clenched tighter beneath the table, blood dripping onto the floor, pain a dull, grounding throb—rage simmering, the app's rules a twisted leash tightening around his throat: Mika or Yumi, fuck one, enslave her, all for Riku's ruin.

He hated Aiko—her cute facade, her sink-fucked betrayal—but needed her, her "love" a weapon to wield, a key to twist this game back on itself, to shatter Riku, to revel in the chaos of this Beta spiral.

Stage 2, he thought—select, seduce, destroy—a dark resolve flickering to life, confusion a fog he couldn't cut through, the phone's blank screen a void whispering promises of ruin.