Urban Harem God: Harem With My Ultimate Copy & Paste System!-Chapter 9: White Dragon Group

Jayden stood up like something in his spine had snapped straight—just one second sitting in normalcy, and the next he was staring down a goddamn apocalypse kit sprawled across his bed like it belonged there.

The air had that low hum. Not loud, not dramatic—just soft, unsettling, like the world had leaned in to whisper something it knew would change him. And then bam—content, outta thin fuckin' air. No fade-in, no glowing lights, no fanfare. Just... presence.

Like the memory of some lost war chest had forced itself back into reality because he existed now.

His bed—his crusty, still-needs-washing, probably-has-a-loose-spring-somewhere bed—was now stacked like a tactical fever dream.

Weapons he couldn't even name. Papers that smelled like old danger and worse choices. Briefcases that looked like they survived a plane crash and a divorce.

And the clothes? Oh, they looked normal. Basic even. Something your dad might wear to a meeting. But one tug of the collar and you'd realize this shit could probably stop a sniper round and make coffee at the same time. Everything screamed black budget. Screamed classified. Screamed: we kill people and make it look like a heart attack in a locked room.

There were black folders—some sealed, some blood-marked, some whispering "Open me and you'll never sleep the same again." USBs glowing like they were snatched from Area 51. A matte-black tablet that powered on with a red blink and a sound so low it hit his teeth instead of his ears.

Burners, passports, gloves—like ten seasons of a spy thriller collapsed into one overwhelming pile. All of it so real. So lethal.

It was like the CIA and the Illuminati had a breakup and left all their shared custody shit in his room. His room, which still had ramen crumbs on the floor and a charger that only worked if he bent it in a stupid angle.

And then he saw it.

The ring.

Dead-center in the chaos. Silver. Dragon-etched. Not glowing, not floating—just waiting. But it pulsed. Not visually. Not with light. No, this bitch had the audacity to pulse heat, like a slow heart made of iron and secrets. Jayden couldn't explain it. It was like it was claiming him, even before he touched it.

He didn't move. Just stared.

And his brain—his fucked-up, half-traumatized, still-processing-everything brain—finally caught up.

This wasn't just wealth. This wasn't the sexy billionaire starter pack. No rooftop pool. No champagne brunch. No Instagram baddies giggling on a yacht he didn't even drive.

"This..." He laughed. Low, confused, almost bitter. "This isn't the path of some carefree billionaire with a yacht and CEO goddesses on each arm that I had envisioned moments ago."

Nah.

This was darker. Deeper. The kind of power that came with body bags and wiped hard drives. The kind of money that didn't just buy silence—it bought history. Erased names. Forged new ones. This was the kind of empire that ruled quietly, like shadows in mirrors and poison in wine.

And he'd been chosen.

Of course he had.

Jayden exhaled, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to ground himself but only found more static.

Well. Guess yacht life would have to wait.

He'd just inherited a fucking ghost syndicate.

This was the underlayer. The filth beneath the polish. The blood underneath the pearl. This wasn't Wall Street money or TikTok hustle—it was the real business world. The one no one wrote Forbes articles about. The one that didn't care about trending stocks or NFTs or whose podcast just dropped.

This was where the big dogs played.

The ones who moved empires, sold nations, whispered into scandals, and disappeared men like they never existed. This was the circle where secrets were currency and silence was worth more than gold.

Jayden gritted his teeth. He could feel it—his heart, trying to sprint out his chest, trying to scream panic into his veins. But instead of fear choking him up, something else slid up his spine.

A thrill.

And fuck, that's what pissed him off.

He slapped the side of his head lightly, half to clear it, half to punish the nerve.

"No. No, you fool. Don't enjoy this." His voice was a breathless growl. "Get your shit together, Jayden. This is the kind of thing that gets men buried in sealed caskets and unmarked graves."

This wasn't a cute system blessing.

This wasn't money raining down so he could buy Yeezys and shake ass in Miami. This was the kind of power people murdered bloodlines to keep hidden.

This could end him before he ever got to taste his prime.

And yet... as his eyes swept across the bed—the weapons, the folders, the ring, the aura of weight that everything carried—he felt that quiet, dangerous smile stretch his lips.

Maybe... maybe this wasn't just a trap.

Maybe this was his ticket.

Not to the shallow stuff. Not just the women. Not just the cars. But to actual power. The kind that didn't just defend your kingdom—it built it. Expanded it. Protected every fucking thing that mattered to you.

Perilous as the path was, twisted as it looked, it had something the others didn't.

Potential.

Not a gift.

A throne. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Abandoned.

Waiting.

And now his.

"What I am gonna do with all this shit now?" His hand hovered over the black folders, drawn by instinct—but he stopped himself, jerking away like it burned. He laughed under his breath. "Wait...am I chickening out? Yup. That looks like it. That's so me."

But the ring... the ring was something else. The pull was different. Quieter. Personal.

He reached out slowly, fingers brushing the cool metal. Silver, with dragon-scale etchings so detailed they almost moved under the light. The dragon wrapped around the band, its fanged mouth biting into its own tail.

At the center, a pearl of dark crystal that pulsed with warmth—not heat, just presence.

Jayden swallowed. "Alright. Let's see what you're about, freaky little thing."

He slid it onto his middle finger—because why the fuck not? That felt like the kind of energy this shit demanded.

He waited. One breath. Two. Three.

Nothing.

He snorted. "Did I really expect a magical-ass reaction? A glow? Lightning? A pop-up tutorial from the heavens?" He shook his head. "I mean... I did just watch gear fall from thin air, so expecting something magical is fair game, right?"

Still nothing. Which, weirdly, was both a relief and a disappointment. At least it didn't bite his finger off or open a gate to hell.

Next up was the tablet.

He powered it on.

The screen flickered once... and then came to life with a sleek white-dragon emblem, the same etched on the ring—eyes glowing, wings wrapping the interface in a protective spiral.

A voice followed. Smooth. Deep. Not robotic, but not human either. Just... perfected.

> "Welcome, new leader of the White Dragon Group. Initializing classified protocols."

Jayden blinked.

"Advanced!" he muttered, half impressed, half scared.

The AI kept going.

> "As acting leader, your clearance grants access to historical data, secure member files, field protocols, and the current status of all remaining operatives. Despite the Group's collapse, two percent of core agents remain active and await orders. Access to the global contact web has been restored."

Then a contact list opened.

Jayden nearly dropped the tablet.

Government names. Billionaire funders. Ex-military ghosts. Journalists-turned-informants. It was like someone handed him the contact list of every conspiracy theory forum in the world—and proved them right.

He laughed. Loud. Sharp. Hysterical. "You know what? Pause. Pause whatever the fuck this is. I need a minute. A week. A new brain."

He looked around his room like he suddenly remembered where he was again. The peeling paint. The cracked tile. The sagging ceiling that leaked when it rained.

"Yeah. You know what's manageable?" He nodded to himself. "Leaving this shitty apartment and moving into my new fucking condo. That's what. That I can handle."

He grabbed his bag, the Limitless Card, and the Harem God Card—still humming quietly in the inventory like a sleeping perv—and looked around one last time.

"Oh—and maybe test out that Copy and Paste function while I'm at it."

He grinned. Dark. Sharp. Hungry.

"Let's make chaos look sexy."