Chapter 19: Rehabilitation... or Torture?
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I woke up to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the blinding white light of what I could only assume was either a hospital room... or the afterlife.
Sora was beside my bed, arms crossed, glaring like she was guarding a villain.
Mei sat beside her, flipping through a magazine with all the emotional investment of a hitman reading a romance novel.
Akane was asleep in the corner with a book on her face.
And Elira... Elira was humming. That’s right. Humming.
So this was it. The Harem Cold War. And I was North Korea.
> [System Notification]
"Welcome back, Idiot-san. You’re alive... sadly. Let’s try again, shall we?"
I groaned.
"Good morning," I croaked, reaching for a cup of water.
Sora took it. "Dehydration builds character."
Ayame walked in last, holding a whiteboard.
She clicked her marker. Wrote one word:
"Disappointment."
I sighed. "You’re not even gonna say it?"
She wrote again:
"You’re not worth the energy."
Death would’ve been kinder.
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Back at the mansion a few days later, I had recovered physically but emotionally? Not so much. The girls declared a new law:
"Rehabilitation Protocol: Operation Apology or Perish."
Each of them would give me daily tasks to prove I’m worth keeping.
Sora made me memorize all their birthdays.
Mei handed me a list of her favorite foods and said, "Cook it. Don’t burn it."
Akane? She made me do her morning yoga routine. Which was 87% leg stretches and 13% pain.
And Elira... made me write poetry. About her. Every day. In ink. With metaphors.
And Ayame?
Ayame watched it all, arms folded, quietly judging... until one day, she dropped a list titled:
> "101 Ways You Messed Up — Start From Number 1."
> [System Notification]
"New Quest Unlocked: ’Ayame’s Eternal Judgment’
Rewards: ???
Risk: Public humiliation. Maybe fire."
I did everything.
Still slept on the couch.
Until one night I heard her... Ayame. Talking.
To herself.
"I can’t stay mad at him forever... right?"
I opened one eye on the couch and smiled.
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At this point, I had achieved something no man should ever be proud of:
Level 100 Couch Goblin.
My back had more knots than a pirate’s rope, my blanket smelled vaguely like betrayal, and my once-glorious bedroom now echoed with the bro-like laughter of my charming, absurdly perfect older brother.
Riku.
Freaking. Riku.
The man walked in, flexed his dimples, and suddenly my entire harem was reenacting a slice-of-life anime starring him. They were baking cookies with him. Playing co-op games with him. Laughing at his dad jokes like they were comedy gold.
> [System Notification]
"Warning: Jealousy Levels at 89%. Critical status approaching. Recommend therapy or sabotage."
Akane had been especially... not-Akane.
Like, smiley. Giggle-ish. One time, she blushed when he ruffled her hair.
She blushed.
Akane doesn’t blush. Akane roasts souls and eats them with ice cream.
I cornered her one afternoon while she was sipping tea with Riku like they were old friends and said, "Hey... got a sec?"
She turned to me with a stare colder than Sora’s freezer. "Didn’t you have couch mold to scrape?"
> [System Notification]
"Achievement Unlocked: ’Verbal Slaughtered by a Tsundere’
You lost 10 Dignity Points. Current Dignity: 4/100"
Later that night, I stared at the ceiling from the couch, plotting.
I had tried everything. Apologies. Chores. Cooking. A spoken-word poem about Elira’s eyebrows (she cried, then threw a sandal at me). Nothing worked.
Until the System dinged back into my life—
Finally, like a toxic ex who only texts when they’re bored.
> [System Notification]
"You have three apology methods left. Please select:
1. Grand Public Gesture
2. Spontaneous Dance Battle
3. Fake Injury (Risky but effective)"
I chose none.
Instead, I climbed the drainpipe to peek into my old room, like a desperate sitcom dad watching someone else tuck his kids in.
There they were: all five girls and Riku, watching a movie and laughing. I slipped and hit my head on the window frame.
Next thing I knew—
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I woke up in the hospital. Again.
Elira leaned in, "You know, if you wanted attention, you could’ve just fake-cried like I do."
Sora: "Or not been the worst."
Ayame... stood up.
She walked to the window.
Then turned.
"You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re stupid."
I blinked. "So... does that mean—?"
She held up her whiteboard.
"Still on the couch."
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