I Accidentally Built a Harem of Girls Who All Hate Each Other

The first rule of a peaceful high school life is simple: stay invisible.

Blend into the background. Become one with the beige walls and the sea of navy blue uniforms. Don't make waves. Don't stand out. Just ride the gentle, predictable current of academia until graduation day, when you can finally paddle out into the open ocean of adult mediocrity.

That was my gospel. My mantra. The sacred text I recited every morning as the shrill beep of my alarm clock dragged me from the sweet abyss of sleep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My hand slapped blindly at the nightstand, knocking over a half-empty glass of water before finally silencing the infernal device. I groaned, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow. The faint scent of stale dreams and utter exhaustion greeted me.

My name is Kaito Tanaka. I'm a second-year at the prestigious Aobadai High School, and my only superpower is an unfortunate, almost pathological, case of kindness. It's not the cool kind of kindness that gets you recognized in assemblies. It's the kind that gets you roped into helping people move on a Sunday, the kind that makes you give your umbrella to a stranger and walk home in a downpour, the kind that, I was beginning to fear, was a magnet for trouble.

And all I wanted was peace.

"Kaito! Are you up yet? You're going to be late!"

The voice, sweet as honey but laced with the unmistakable threat of a morning lecture, floated through my open window. It didn't come from my own house. It came from the house next door.

I sighed, a long, weary sound that held the weight of sixteen years of this. "Coming, Yui!" I yelled, my voice thick with sleep.

I peeled myself from my bed, my joints protesting as I shuffled to the window. Pushing aside the curtains, I was met with the sight of Yui Hamasaki, her face framed by the window of her own bedroom directly opposite mine. Her light brown hair was already tied into its signature side ponytail, bouncing with an energy I wouldn't feel until at least my third cup of coffee. She was already in her crisp school uniform, a beaming smile on her face that could outshine the morning sun.

She was the picture of girl-next-door perfection. And she was the first crack in the foundation of my peaceful life.

"You look like a zombie, Kai," she giggled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you stay up all night reading those weird light novels again?"

"They're not weird, they're… expansive," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Whatever you say." She held up a beautifully wrapped bento box, tied with a cute pink cloth. "I made your favorite today! Ginger pork stir-fry. Don't you dare buy that soggy yakisoba bread from the cafeteria, you hear me?"

See? Kindness magnet. Yui's kindness, however, came with an asterisk. It was a targeted, laser-focused kindness that had been aimed squarely at me since we were building sandcastles in the park.

"You're a lifesaver, Yui," I said, offering a genuinely grateful smile.

Her own smile widened, a hint of possessive pride in her eyes. "Of course I am. Who else is going to take care of my Kaito?"

My Kaito. The words were casual, but they hung in the air between our windows like an invisible fence. I had learned long ago not to question them. It was easier that way.

Fifteen minutes later, after a lightning-fast shower and a struggle with my perpetually rebellious hair, I met her at the bottom of my driveway. The scent of her floral shampoo hit me as she immediately linked her arm with mine, a familiar and comfortable weight.

"Ready?" she asked, already pulling me down the street.

"Do I have a choice?" I deadpanned.

She just squeezed my arm tighter. "Nope."

The walk to Aobadai High was a daily ritual that served as a perfect cross-section of our school's social ecosystem. We passed packs of boisterous first-years, still high on the novelty of it all. We dodged the cool, detached third-years who walked as if they already had one foot out the door.

And then, there were the legends. The living, breathing deities of our school.

As we rounded the corner onto the main street leading to the school gates, a low murmur rippled through the crowd of students. A sleek, black car with tinted windows had pulled up to the curb. A chauffeur in a crisp suit opened the rear door, and a single, elegant leg emerged, followed by the rest of Reina Kujou.

If I was trying to be invisible, Reina Kujou was the sun.

Long, pin-straight jet-black hair cascaded down her back. Her posture was so perfect it looked painful. Her uniform was immaculate, without a single crease. But it was her eyes—sharp, intelligent, and the color of crimson—that held everyone captive. She was the student council president, the top-scoring student in the nation, and the heiress to the Kujou Corporation. She walked with an aura of untouchable authority, her two silent-but-deadly student council cronies flanking her like Praetorian guards.

"Hmph. Talk about overkill," Yui muttered under her breath, her grip on my arm tightening almost imperceptibly. "Does she really need a chauffeur to go two miles?"

"She's on a different plane of existence, Yui," I whispered back, my eyes tracking the almost regal procession. 'A plane I have no desire to board, thank you very much.'

Just as Reina's formidable presence began to fade as she entered the school gates, a new disturbance shot through the crowd from the opposite direction.

"On your left!"

A red-headed blur shot past us, moving at a speed that defied the laws of physics for a crowded sidewalk. It was Asuka Miyamoto, the ace of the track team, the soccer team, and pretty much any team that involved moving faster than a brisk walk. She wore her gym uniform instead of the standard one, a bead of sweat already glistening on her temple. Her short, spiky hair looked like a controlled explosion, and her eyes sparkled with a fiery, competitive energy. She didn't walk; she bounced, a coiled spring of pure athletic prowess.

She was the school's fireball, the polar opposite of Reina's icy perfection. Where Reina commanded respect through silent intimidation, Asuka earned it through raw, untamable spirit.

Yui let out a huff as the wind from Asuka's passing ruffled her hair. "She's going to run someone over one of these days."

I just chuckled. The daily clash of ice and fire was one of the few spectator sports I actually enjoyed.

We were almost at the gates when it happened. A small, almost unnoticeable event that would become the first tremor in the earthquake that was about to demolish my life.

A girl with silky, shoulder-length blue-black hair, her face mostly obscured by a thick novel, fumbled the stack of books she was carrying. They tumbled to the ground, scattering across the pavement. Most students just walked around her, lost in their own worlds.

But my stupid, kindness-addled brain fired off its one and only directive: Help.

I gently unhooked my arm from Yui's. "Just a sec," I said, already crouching down.

"Kaito, we'll be late…" Yui started, but I was already gathering the fallen books.

"It's okay," the girl whispered, her voice barely audible. She kept her head down, her hair falling like a curtain to hide her face as we both reached for the same book.

Our fingers brushed.

It was a spark. A tiny, insignificant jolt of static electricity. But her reaction was anything but. She flinched back as if she'd been burned, finally looking up.

And I forgot how to breathe for a second.

She had the most stunning violet-colored eyes I had ever seen, hidden behind a pair of simple glasses. Her face, now flushed with a deep, crimson blush of embarrassment, was delicate and pretty. She was Shiori Akiyama, the quiet girl from my class who always sat in the back corner, lost in the world of her books. The girl nobody ever seemed to notice.

"S-sorry," she stammered, snatching her hand back and gathering the rest of her books in a flustered heap.

"No problem at all," I said, handing her the last one with a gentle smile. "Have a good day, Akiyama-san."

She gave a tiny, jerky nod, clutched her books to her chest as if they were a shield, and practically fled into the school building without another word.

I stood up, dusting off my knees, and turned back to Yui.

The warm, sunny smile from this morning was gone. It had been replaced by a placid, slightly cool expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her arm linked back with mine, but this time, her grip was like a vice.

"That was nice of you, Kai," she said, her voice a little too sweet.

"It was nothing," I replied, a little unnerved by the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"Mmm," was all she said. But I could feel it. The subtle pressure on my arm, the slight chill in the air. The first shot had been fired in a war I didn't even know I was fighting. My life's GPA in 'Peace and Quiet' was, I suspected, about to take a nosedive.

We walked through the school gates, passing our homeroom teacher, the gentle Ms. Ayako Fujii, who gave us a warm, sisterly smile. Standing near her was the notoriously strict P.E. teacher, Ms. Emi Sato, whose sharp eyes seemed to be scanning for uniform violations. Just another normal morning.

Or so I thought.

To avoid the main crush of students at the shoe lockers, I decided to take a small shortcut through the narrow alley between the main building and the old gymnasium. Yui had to stop to talk to a friend, giving me a precious few moments of solitude.

'Finally, a moment of peace,' I thought, letting out a sigh of relief as I rounded the corner into the quiet, shaded alley.

And that's when I saw her.

Reina Kujou. The Ice Queen. The untouchable school idol.

She wasn't flanked by her cronies. She wasn't exuding an aura of command. She was crouched down, her back to me, her perfect posture broken. She was making soft, hesitant "pspsps" sounds.

In front of her, just out of reach, was a scruffy-looking stray cat with one torn ear.

A small, genuine smile touched my lips. So, the perfect President had a soft spot for strays. It was… human. It was cute.

Reina slowly extended a hand, her long, elegant fingers trembling slightly. The cat, emboldened, took a step forward and rubbed against her hand with a loud purr.

And Reina Kujou screamed.

It wasn't a loud shriek, but a high-pitched, terrified yelp of pure panic. She scrambled backward, falling onto the pavement and crab-walking away from the affectionate feline, her face a mask of utter, unadulterated terror.

My brain short-circuited. The Ice Queen… was terrified of cats? The single most hilarious, most humanizing, most secret piece of information one could possibly have about her?

The absurdity of the situation—this powerful, perfect girl being completely undone by a fluffy stray—made a small, involuntary chuckle escape my lips.

It was a tiny sound. Barely a whisper.

But in the silent alley, it was a thunderclap.

Reina's head snapped in my direction. Her crimson eyes, wide with panic and humiliation, locked onto mine. The mask of the student council president was gone, shattered into a million pieces. In its place was the raw, horrified expression of a girl whose deepest, most embarrassing secret had just been discovered.

Her face flushed, then went pale, then flushed a furious, dangerous red. She stared at me, her mouth slightly agape, the scruffy cat now purring contentedly around her ankles, completely oblivious to the diplomatic crisis it had just caused.

I stood there, frozen, the stupid chuckle still dying on my lips.

The first rule of a peaceful high school life is to stay invisible.

In that single, catastrophic moment, I had just painted a giant, luminous target on my back.