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

The VVIP table at the club felt heavier than usual.

Enji, Arataki, and Haruto sat with Kikuchi, now joined by Nakamura.

Across from them, slumped at the head of the table, was Old Futto—his gaze glued to his jeans, either too scared or too ashamed to look up.

Enji scowled, arms crossed. What a joke.

"Seriously, Old Futto?! Why the hell are you so weak?! Where's your damn determination to get stronger, man?!"

"Not cool, dude!" Arataki chimed in, shaking his head.

"I even used my own mansion for this! Do you know what my dad would do if he found out? He'd kill me! But did I back out? No! I stayed silent!"

Haruto leaned back against the plush sofa, his arms sprawled out. "Yeah, and that's why I was surprised you weren't at my fight. Thought it was weird."

He tilted his head. "Like, you—the guy who watches porn worse than hell itself—are scared of some blood and violence? Make it make sense."

Nakamura chuckled, taking a slow sip from his glass. "Calm down, guys."

He gestured toward Old Futto, smirking. "You all do know he has a weak mentality, right?"

The trio glanced at Nakamura, then back at Old Futto. Their expressions softened just a bit.

Haruto raised a brow. "What did you do to him?"

Kikuchi crossed his legs, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Nothing." His tone was indifferent, but his smirk was razor-sharp.

"I just asked him what you all were up to… and then he blurted out everything."

Nakamura burst into laughter, nearly spilling his drink. "You should've seen his face! The guy looked like he hadn't taken a shit for a month!"

Enji, Arataki, and Haruto sighed in unison. Their gazes locked onto Old Futto.

"Dude." The single word dripped with disappointment.

Old Futto's body visibly trembled. Sweat poured from his temples like a damn fountain.

"You don't get it!" he rasped.

"You know what Kikuchi does to his victims—I couldn't lie to him! Just being in the same room as him scared the shit out of me!"

His breath hitched, becoming ragged, frantic.

Enji exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

It turns out not the police who gave a clue to their seniors as Ayaka begged the hospital staff not to inform the police. It was Old Futto all along.

"So…" He leaned forward, gaze locked onto Kikuchi. "What're you gonna do with the four of us?"

The air thickened as Kikuchi casually poured another drink.

The clink of glass, the scent of whiskey, the golden-brown liquid swirling in the dim club lighting—every tiny detail amplified their tension.

Kikuchi could beat them senseless. Could order something worse.

But instead…

He poured three more drinks. One for each of them.

The trio exchanged glances, confused.

Kikuchi set the bottle down and leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table. His smirk widened, sharp enough to cut.

"I think you all did a good job wanting to destroy Red Fang." He slid the glasses toward them.
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"So drink. Let's talk about your future plans."

It was the first time in a while they'd seen Kikuchi smile.

And fuck, was it terrifying.

The three hesitated only for a second before accepting the drinks. They had no choice. This was the reality of being part of Murder of Crows.

Loyalty meant following the leader's will.

Still…

As the whiskey burned down their throats, it tasted more bitter than usual. Almost like dirt.

Because they all knew what this really meant.

They agreed to work with Kikuchi. And that was both suspicious and dangerous as hell.

After all…

The murder of Crows and Red Fang was supposed to be on good terms.

Enji cleared his throat and leaned back, a casual smirk forming on his lips.

"It's all Haruto's plan, by the way. He'll be the one explaining."

Haruto's eyes widened in disbelief. That bastard just threw him under the bus. He immediately elbowed Enji's ribs, making the redhead flinch.

"Tch," Haruto clicked his tongue before sighing.

"It's just… my personal grudge against Ren. I want to destroy him."

His voice held no hesitation, only a simmering rage that had long turned into an inferno.

"But he's too important because of his position. That's why I want to ruin his business first."

Kikuchi exhaled slowly, leaning into the sofa. "You do realize that's a dumb move, right? What if Daiki finds out you're the perpetrator?"

"That would trigger a gang war, especially if Shohei decides to step in."

Nakamura nodded, taking a drag from his cigarette. "That business is one of their biggest money-makers. Taking it down isn't something they'd let slide."

Haruto parted his lips to explain further, but Kikuchi cut him off.

"We need a scapegoat."

He paused, letting his words sink in before his gaze locked onto Haruto.

"Are you ready to be one, Haruto?"

The room tensed.

Enji stiffened, about to protest, but Kikuchi's sharp glance silenced him before he could even open his mouth.

"This plan came from you," Kikuchi reminded him, voice even.

"I already know from Enji that you want to kill Daiki. That's why you joined my gang—to get protection, to get stronger."

He leaned forward, eyes dark with amusement. "That's also why I've been watching you closely. I wanted to see just how much you're willing to sacrifice to destroy your enemy's life."

The room fell silent.

The only sounds were their slow, steady breathing and the distant thrum of the club outside.

But Haruto already knew his answer and he knew this was a test from Kikuchi to know how much he was willing to sacrifice.

He already knew the answer. For Haruka's happiness. For revenge.

"I can sacrifice my life for it," Haruto stated firmly, his voice unwavering.

"But I won't be a scapegoat. Not until I've taken Daiki's life with my own hands."

Kikuchi raised a brow, slightly taken aback. He had expected Haruto to be more cunning, more strategic. Not someone who ran purely on instinct and vengeance.

Still, he couldn't deny the kid had potential.

Kikuchi clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Haah… Being young must be nice, huh?" he said, sarcasm laced in his tone.

"But you can't just charge in like a bull. Use your brain."

Haruto rubbed the back of his neck, knowing what Kikuchi meant. But even so, this was still the best way to get to Ren's throat.

"We have a plan regarding the Crown of Ito. We don't want to destroy it completely, but it all depends on how Daiki reacts." Haruto started, explaining his strategy.

"I don't see a problem with this," Nakamura mused, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Did you know Ren is already a thorn in Daiki's side? Seems like he wants to get rid of him too."

Haruto blinked. 'Get rid of him?'

His mind flashed back to the bat. Daiki had given him the bat. Not Ren.

"Well, that brat isn't as bright as Daiki thought," Kikuchi reasoned.

"That's why he's probably trying to take control of the business for himself."

Arataki, who had been quietly processing all this, suddenly burst out, "Then—doesn't that mean we can just kill Ren without all this shit?!"

Kikuchi chuckled darkly. "Maybe. But Daiki would kill you for it."

He tapped his chin, eyes gleaming with amusement. "He's the kind of man who enjoys seeing pain and suffering. And he's smart."

"He knows that letting go of Ren would be a loss and his brother will question everything. So he's waiting for someone to move first—to kill Ren for him."

A game. They had been playing in Daiki's game all along.

Haruto, Enji, and Arataki exchanged uneasy glances. They hadn't even realized it.

"But Daiki doesn't know what we're planning yet, right?" Enji asked, uncertainty creeping into his tone.

Kikuchi smirked. "He might not know your full operation, but he can guess that Haruto is moving against Ren."

He took another sip of his drink before adding, "You already made one of their gang members commit suicide, right?"

Haruto stiffened. His fingers curled against his knee. "How do you know that?"

Kikuchi merely smiled. "I have eyes everywhere."

Haruto exhaled sharply, realization settling in.

"Anyway," Kikuchi continued, waving a hand lazily, "Daiki must already know that Ren is your next target. So you all need to be more prepared. You need backup plans if shit goes south."

"He's right," Nakamura added. "Daiki is an enigma. He's the definition of chaos."

And so, the six of them spent the next hour brainstorming. Forming multiple plans, backup plans, and contingencies for every possible outcome.

But just as they were wrapping up, a hesitant voice broke the discussion.

"Uh… I have a question."

All eyes turned to Old Futto. He had been silent the entire time, barely even breathing. But now, he seemed to gather every ounce of his courage to ask:

"Why… Why do you want to destroy the Crown of Ito? Aren't we on good terms with Red Fang?"

Kikuchi and Nakamura stilled. For a brief moment, even they seemed caught off guard by the question—especially coming from the weakest member in the room.

But Kikuchi soon smirked.

"Simple." He leaned back. "To expand our gang."

He exhaled, stretching his arms behind his head.

"You see, Shohei is so obsessed with his little brother that he sometimes forgets we exist."

His voice was laced with amusement. "To put it simply—Red Fang is the reason we're stuck in this shithole."

"So," he tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something far colder than before, "this is just a normal rivalry."

There was no warmth in his gaze.

Only a deep, unwavering determination to destroy Red Fang.

Nakamura chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course, you guys are on your own if this plan fails."

The sheer coldness in their words sent a chill down Haruto, Enji, Arataki, and Old Futto's spines.

Because in the end…

If anything went wrong—

They would be the scapegoats.