The interior of the Aethelgard Adventurer's Guild was a controlled cacophony that sang a siren song of power and possibility to Theron's ambitious soul. The air thrummed with latent magic and the low din of armored warriors clinking tankards, mages debating arcane theories, and guild clerks barking orders. Bounty boards lined the walls, plastered with parchment promises of gold and glory, from simple rat-clearance in cellars to legendary quests involving draconic subjugation.
His eyes, sharp and analytical, scanned the room like a CEO assessing a new acquisition. This was the stock exchange of violence and valor, and he intended to be its majority shareholder.
His gaze quickly found its primary target. Caden and his constellation of beauties—Lyra, Isabelle, and Cyrene—were standing near a reception desk, looking slightly lost amidst the chaos. Perfect. They were one member short for a full party. Lady Luck, it seemed, was a fickle mistress who enjoyed a good plot twist.
He adjusted his academy tunic, smoothed back his dark hair, and adopted a leisurely, confident stroll as he approached them. "Well, well! If it isn't our illustrious class leader, Caden, and the three graces of the Academy. Fancy meeting you all here."
The reaction was instantaneous and precisely what he had anticipated. All three girls turned as one, their previous mild bickering forgotten in the face of a common, external threat. Their eyes, a trio of emerald, sapphire, and amethyst, locked onto him with a unified frostiness.
Lyra, the silver-haired childhood friend, stepped forward slightly, her expression one of pure, unadulterated suspicion. "Were you following us, Theron?" Her voice was soft but carried the sharpness of a honed blade.
Isabelle, the betrothed with the body that promised sin, placed a hand on her hip. "We require some private time to discuss our party's future. Please, be a dear and find your own group." Her tone was dismissive, the kind used on a persistent insect.
But it was Cyrene who delivered the most cutting remark. The cyan-haired cousin, with her delicate features and an aura of quiet intensity, looked him up and down with palpable disdain. "As expected of someone with no name to uphold. Daring to speak to nobles with such familiarity. Such a bother." Her words were meant to wound, to reinforce the social chasm between them.
Theron didn't flinch. He felt a thrill, not of hurt, but of recognition. This was a tactical formation. The moment he, an outsider, had approached, their internal squabbles had ceased. They had formed a unified front, a natural defense mechanism born from their shared obsession with Caden. They already saw themselves as his women, and all other males were potential contaminants.
'Interesting,' he thought, the strategist in him marveling at the efficiency of their response. 'A perfectly coordinated counter-attack. But you're amateurs playing against a grandmaster.'
He ignored their verbal barbs as if they were mere noise. He had been called far worse in boardrooms by people with far more power. Instead, he walked straight past them, his focus solely on the linchpin of this entire operation: Caden.
Caden was watching him, his expression unreadable, but Theron could see the gears turning behind those heroically earnest eyes. The protagonist was assessing the new variable.
"To be honest," Theron began, his tone shifting to one of practiced vulnerability, "I also need a group to register. Why not join together, as old classmates? Strength in numbers, and all that."
Caden's eyes performed a slow, deliberate sweep from Theron's worn shoes to his face. Theron could almost hear the internal monologue: 'His mana levels are mediocre, typical support mage. His physique is average. But he seems earnest. Need to ensure he has no ill intentions toward my girls.'
The classic protagonist paranoia. It was almost endearing in its predictability.
"I didn't expect an orphan like you to have the backing to qualify for entry here," Caden said, his tone calm, almost gentle, but the words were a deliberate probe, a test of character disguised as casual conversation.
Theron had to suppress a laugh. 'Haha! The 'testing the waters' routine right out of the gate. As expected of a true protagonist. Insult first, gauge reaction later.'
He let his shoulders slump just a fraction, injecting a well-practiced note of sadness into his voice. "I have no one to rely upon. I was just lucky enough to earn the pity of a minor noble who recommended me. Seeing you all waiting, I thought you might need a fifth member. You know how it is... I was always a bit of a loner at the Academy. As a result, I was left out of all the class groups planning to join guilds together."
He painted a picture of pathetic isolation—a boy with no backing, no friends, relying on the pity of others. It was the perfect bait for a hero complex. He was making himself appear as the perfect beneficiary for Caden's inherent need to be the savior, to have people be grateful to him.
As expected, Caden's expression softened. A small, condescending smile touched his lips. "It's okay... I was just testing you. My intention wasn't to insult you. You know how dangerous the outside world is. Can't take people who might backstab each other."
Checkmate. Phase one was complete. He was in.
But the harem was still a fortified castle. He needed to breach its walls. He needed to turn allies into foes and isolate his first target.
He nodded gratefully at Caden, then turned his attention back to the three girls, who were watching the exchange with varying degrees of annoyance. His eyes settled on Cyrene. She was the most outwardly hostile, the most possessive, and in his new memories, she had a known, almost pathological fear of a specific, relatively common monster. She was the perfect candidate for isolation.
He crafted his words with surgical precision.
"Lady Isabelle, Lady Lyra," he began, his voice laced with faux concern. "Forgive my intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice... every time I see you, you both always seem to be being belittled by Lady Cyrene. It must be so frustrating."
The effect was electric.
He had directly attacked the core of their internal conflict. Both Lyra and Isabelle, who hardly acknowledged outsiders, suddenly saw him from a new perspective. From an outsider's viewpoint, Cyrene was the one constantly starting arguments, deliberately creating discord to hinder their progress with Caden. They looked at each other, a silent communication passing between them, and then they looked at Theron as if he had unveiled a great truth.
Cyrene's face paled. She felt the equilibrium shift violently.
"You are right!" Lyra exclaimed, her Lolita-like face puffing in indignation. "It's always this fake cousin sister trying to separate me from Caden!"
Isabelle, the busty vixen, hummed in agreement, a triumphant smirk on her lips. "Yes! I always wondered why we argued so much. It seems it was all part of this little blue-haired one's strategy. Hmm, playing tricks against Caden's one and only childhood friend? How naive you are, fake sister."
Cyrene was shell-shocked. The usual 3-way skirmish had suddenly become a 3-v-1 ambush. She felt a hot wave of injustice and betrayal. Her eyes, now shimmering with unshed tears of fury, locked onto Theron. "Why are you getting in my way, you lowly commoner? Know your place!"
But Theron saw something else in her glare beyond the anger. A flicker of something darker, more intense. A possessive, almost feral light. This wasn't just a spoiled noble girl throwing a tantrum. This was the first glimpse of the yandere lurking beneath the surface. Her defense mechanisms were screaming that this man was a dire threat to her claim on Caden.
She looked desperately at Caden. "I can't allow him to join us! He does not seem to be a good person!"
Theron played his part to perfection, feigning hurt confusion. "Why are you taking your anger out on me, Lady Cyrene, when it's clear you are at fault, as spoken by Lady Isabelle and Lady Lyra?"
The trick had worked flawlessly. The two girls looked at each other again, then gave Cyrene a look of pure, unadulterated victory. They had found a new ally, a pawn to break the deadlock.
Lyra seized the opportunity. "Yes, Cyrene! Why are you opposing Theron? Is it only because he speaks the truth?"
"I know the truth hurts like a knife to vixens like you," Isabelle added, her voice syrupy with false sympathy. "Theron, we were just lacking one person. It's lucky we found you. As a fellow classmate, we can trust you." She smiled triumphantly at Cyrene, who looked like she had been physically struck.
The registration process was a formality. They named their party "The Dawn Vanguards." Caden was blooming with satisfaction, his chest puffed with the pride of a leader who had both helped a可怜 soul and secured a full party.
As they left the guild, Cyrene hung back, her head bowed. Theron, walking close behind her, could hear her barely audible whispers, the sound of a heart cracking under the weight of strategic manipulation.
"Why is this happening?... Why is Caden not trusting me?.. Our bond should be much stronger... How can he not take my opinion into account..."
A slow, predatory smile spread across Theron's face. The first strike against the enemy lines had been a resounding success. The cyan-haired beauty was isolated, wounded, and brimming with resentment. She was now vulnerable. And for a predator like Ethan Blackwood, vulnerable was the most attractive quality of all.
His plan was simple. He would offer her a sympathetic ear, become her sole confidant in this suddenly hostile group. He would stoke the flames of her jealousy and paranoia, twist her love for Caden into a destructive obsession, and then, when she was at her most broken and volatile, he would be there to "save" her. He would become the only one who understood her, the only one she could rely on.
He would not just steal Caden's girl; he would corrupt her, reshape her devotion into something that served him alone. The first piece on the board was primed for the taking. The game was afoot, and Theron was playing for the highest stakes imaginable: the very destiny of this world.