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

Kota sprinted through the deserted streets, his heart pounding harder than the rain pelting against him.

The wind howled around him, carrying leaves from the autumn trees that seemed to scatter in every direction.

The storm brewing in the sky mirrored the turmoil in his chest, but he paid no mind to the cold or the coming tempest.

His focus was singular—getting home, away from the humiliation, the rage, and the shame.

After losing to Haruto, Daiki's indifference had cut deeper than any punch. Not a word, not a glance, just a silent departure that screamed louder than any reprimand.

Kota's battered body had been left sprawled on the ground, the rain mixing with his tears and blood.

The humiliation burned like acid, worse than the time Daiki had physically lashed out at him in anger.

The rain intensified as Kota reached his house, his clothes drenched and clinging to his bruised skin. He fumbled with the gate, swinging it open hastily before rushing to the front door.

The sound of his shoes squelching against the wet ground echoed through the empty yard.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, the warmth of the house doing little to thaw the icy anger in his chest.

There was no greeting, no concern, just the muffled sound of laughter coming from the living room.

Kota's fists clenched as he moved toward the sound, his footsteps heavy on the floorboards. His father, Mr. Inoue, was perched on the sofa, his belly shaking with laughter as he watched a comedy show on TV.

The sight made Kota's blood boil, but it was the figure beside his father who twisted the knife. His mother, Asuka, sat there quietly, her gaze distant and unseeing.

Kota froze for a moment, the weight of Haruto's words crashing over him like a fresh wave of agony. His chest tightened, anger mixing with the deep ache of betrayal.

"Fuck!" The expletive tore from his throat as he stormed into the living room.

His uniform clung to him, dripping water onto the floor as he stepped in front of the television and turned it off with a sharp click.

"What the hell, Kota?" Mr. Inoue snapped, glaring at his son. "Why'd you turn it off? I was watching that!"

Kota stared at his father, disbelief and rage swirling in his eyes. The man didn't even notice the cuts and bruises marring his son's face, too preoccupied with the triviality of his show.

Kota's jaw tightened, his hands trembling at his sides. He turned to Asuka, searching her face for some semblance of acknowledgment—scolding, anger, concern, anything.

But she didn't move. Her eyes remained fixed on some far-off point, her expression hollow, like a porcelain doll with a painted smile that had long since faded.

The realization hit him again, harder this time. His parents' relationship had always been strange, devoid of warmth or affection.

Separate rooms, cold conversations, and a distance that seemed insurmountable. There had never been love—not for each other and certainly not for him.

The truth crushed him, an unbearable weight settling in his chest. Kota's vision blurred as he stood there, his rage suddenly giving way to despair.

The broken pieces of his family reflected back at him, sharp and unyielding, and he knew that nothing he did would ever piece them back together.

The sound of Kota's voice echoed in the tense living room, trembling with betrayal. "Mother… are you really cheating on Father with Haruto?"

Asuka's head snapped up, her hollow gaze locking onto him. For the first time in years, there was fire in her eyes, but it wasn't warmth or love—it was resentment.

"What nonsense are you spouting, Kota?" Mr. Inoue interrupted, his laugh uneasy.

"Your mother wouldn't do something like that." He turned to Asuka for confirmation, but she remained silent, staring blankly ahead.

Kota's anger flared, his hands trembling. "Shut up, old man!" he barked, his voice cracking. "I'm not talking to you. Mother, answer me! Tell me it's not true. Tell me Haruto's lying!"

The air grew heavy as Asuka finally spoke, her voice calm, devoid of emotion. "It's true. I cheated on your father."

Kota stumbled back a step, his chest heaving as if the weight of her words had physically struck him. Mr. Inoue froze, his jaw slack.

"What are you saying, Asuka?" Mr. Inoue asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "You… you cheated? Why?"

Asuka stood slowly, her movements deliberate as she met her husband's gaze. "Why?" she repeated, bitterness dripping from her words.

"You want to know why? Because you stole my life. You raped me, destroyed my future trapped me in marriage, and left me with a child I never wanted."

Kota's world crumbled as her words sank in. He staggered, gripping the back of the couch for support, his mind reeling.

"Asuka, that's enough!" Mr. Inoue barked, but his voice lacked conviction.

"No, it's not enough!" Asuka shouted, tears streaming down her face.

"Every single day, I've had to live with the consequences of your actions. I tried to love Kota—I really did—but every time I looked at him, I saw you. I saw the man who ruined me, who trapped me in this life. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Kota's legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, his head hanging low. "You… you hated me?" he whispered, his voice broken.

Asuka turned her gaze to him, her face twisted with anguish. "I wanted to love you, Kota. But I couldn't. I'm sorry."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

With that, she turned and fled from the house, leaving both men in stunned silence.

Mr. Inoue stood frozen for a moment before his face twisted with rage. "This is your fault, Kota!" he spat, his voice venomous. "If you'd never been born, none of this would've happened!"

He stormed out after Asuka, leaving Kota alone. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of rain hammering against the windows.

Kota knelt on the cold floor, his body trembling. "She never loved me…" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the storm outside.

"It's all my fault…"