A Weird Revenge NTR System (Beta)-Chapter 12 - 11

The coffee shop hummed around Kaito Nakamura—a warm blur of chatter and clinking mugs—but he was a specter in it, hunched at the corner table, latte cold, Aiko's empty chair a raw gash in his chest. Rain streaked the windows, a faint drizzle smearing the busy roads outside, but inside, his world smoldered—gutted, jagged, torn open by the video still searing his skull. Aiko—his Aiko—bent over that sink, sweater drenched and shoved up, cunt dripping as Riku fucked her hard, her hand muffling moans, ass bouncing red and slick, cum oozing down her thighs. His phone lay face-down—cracked screen silent after he'd dropped it—his bloody fist throbbing, tears drying into a crust on his cheeks, hoodie soaked with sweat and despair.

It buzzed again—sharp, relentless—vibrating against the scarred wood, a jolt that snapped his head down, dread pooling icy in his gut. He glared—breath ragged, chest tight—his hand trembling as he flipped it over, cracked glass flickering alive. The screen glowed—black, stark—and text flared, red and glitchy, slicing through the haze.

Updat𝓮d from frёewebnoѵēl.com.

[Condition Passed: Got Cucked by Your Girlfriend]

The words slammed him—a fist to his ribs—mocking, vicious, branding his shame in crimson. His stomach lurched—bile surging, rage boiling—cucked, she cucked me—and he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding, a low growl tearing free.

[Choose One of the Following Targets]

His eyes narrowed—confusion tangling with hate—as two names blinked onto the screen, cold and unyielding: Riku Sato and Aiko Tanaka. His pulse spiked—targets? For what?—the app a dark puzzle he couldn't unravel, RNTR 0.1 (Beta) glaring at him, unremovable, alive. He stared—Riku's name a molten spike, Aiko's a blade twisting deeper—and his fist shook, blood seeping from split knuckles, rage roaring loud. Her—she'd fucked him over, lied, cheated—but Riku—that smug bastard, slamming her sink-drenched cunt, grinning like he owned her—lit a darker fire, a hate sharper, fresher, raw.

He pressed Riku's name—thumb hard, screen flashing—anger drowning the blur of tears, the app chirping.

[Target Selected: Riku Sato]

His breath hitched—what now?—and the screen shifted, two pictures snapping up, stark and jarring: Mika Sato—Riku's sister, 18, petite, wide-eyed, blonde streaks in her bobbed hair—and Yumi Sato—Riku's mother, 40, curvy, sharp jaw, dark hair pinned tight. Names glowed beside them—Sister, Mother—and his gut twisted—sick, cold—confusion crashing hard.

[Select a Secondary Target for Retribution]

[Objective: Seduce and Enslave. Convert to Personal Sex Slave]

His eyes widened—bloodshot, wet—staring, mouth dry, a choked snarl clawing free. Fuck them? Enslave them? His mind spun—Mika's shy giggle from some party, Yumi's stern nod at a university event—Riku's family, now pawns in this sick game. The system scrolled—conditions stacking.

[Step 1: Gain Love Points from Primary Target (Aiko Tanaka)]

[Requirement: 20 Love Points to Unlock Retribution Process]

[Step 2: Initiate Seduction of Secondary Target]

His chest heaved—love points? From her?—Aiko's cute purr clashing with her sink-fucked moans, a twisted jest he couldn't grip. At the bottom, a warning pulsed—bold, ominous.

[Alert: System Terminates if Relationship with Aiko Tanaka Ends. All Progress Lost]

His breath caught—stay with her, that cheating slut—the leash from last night coiling tighter, her betrayal a shackle he couldn't snap. The screen flared again.

[Love Points Required: 20. Current: 0]

Then blanked—black, dead—leaving him staring, trembling, the shop's buzz a distant roar in his ears.

Kaito's fist clenched—blood dripping, pain a dull pulse—confusion swirling with rage, a chaotic storm shredding him. What's this shit? he thought—fuck Riku's sister? His mom? The app—RNTR, Revenge NTR—Beta, untested, unhinged—offered a warped revenge, a game he couldn't parse, its rules carving his sanity raw. He'd picked Riku—hated him, wanted him crushed—but this? Mika—tiny, naive, her skirts too short—or Yumi—strict, busty, her glares cold—turned into sex slaves, his to break, to punish Riku? His stomach churned—disgust surging, hot and sour—but a dark spark flickered—he fucked her, she fucked me, they deserve it.

He sat—frozen, shaking—phone clutched tight, cracked screen cutting his palm, blood smearing the edge. Love points—he had to play Aiko, smile, kiss, grope—earn her "love" to unlock this... thing. His chest burned—rage, shame, a sick twist—Mika bent over, Yumi on her knees, for Riku?—the app's silence a taunt, a void he couldn't pierce. The washroom door creaked—slow, faint—and Aiko slipped out, sweater damp but cleaner, skirt swaying, her grin bright, oblivious.

"Sorry, babe," she chirped—bouncing back, sliding into her chair—her hand brushing his, warm and soft, her vanilla scent clogging his lungs. "Took forever—stupid stain wouldn't budge." She giggled—cute, light—leaning in, kissing his cheek—wet, quick—and he flinched, nausea surging, her lips a brand he couldn't scrub here.

"S'fine," he rasped—voice cracked, forced—smiling, tight and fake, bile scorching his throat. She tilted her head—eyes glinting—"You okay?"—and he nodded—quick, numb—"Yeah, just... tired"—the lie a reflex, his fist hidden under the table, blood crusting, phone buzzing faint in his pocket. She sipped her latte—foam gone, coffee cold—chattering about some test, her foot nudging his shin, and he stared—her cute face a mask, her sink-fucked cunt a ghost—hate flaring, gratitude crumbling, the app's game a dark thud in his skull.

Twenty points—he'd play her, win her, use her—rage simmering, a plan he didn't want but couldn't ditch. She leaned closer—hair brushing his arm, her warmth a lie—and he forced a laugh—weak, hollow—at her dumb quip, his hand twitching to grab her, choke her, scream—you fucked him, you bitch—but he didn't—couldn't—system's warning chaining him: break up, it's gone. He needed her—her "love"—to twist this back, to hit Riku, to... what? Fuck Mika? Yumi? His mind reeled—sick, twisted—Beta, a glitch, dragging him into madness.

Her hand squeezed his—soft, possessive—her nails grazing his skin, and he smiled—shaky, fake—cute, faithful Aiko—the lie he'd built since morning, now dust under the app's weight. "You're so sweet, babe," she purred—eyes sparkling—and he nodded—mute, broken—hate surging, a dark resolve flickering—I'll play, I'll win, I'll see. The phone buzzed—faint, relentless—screen blank but alive, RNTR's game a shadow he couldn't shake, confusion a fog he waded through, rage a fire he fed.