My Taboo Harem System

Chapter 132: Tara

Denzel stared at her.

And the longer he did, the more certain he became that she meant every word.

There was nothing performative in her eyes. No flicker of amusement waiting beneath the surface, no tell that suggested she was playing at something. She looked at him the way a person looks at a problem they’ve already decided how to solve — calm, patient, and entirely prepared to follow through.

’She caught the lie.’

The thought landed cold in his chest. He didn’t know how. His delivery had been clean, his voice had been steady, but somehow she’d seen through the seams of it anyway. And now she was telling him she’d kill him. Which meant he had exactly one chance left.

His eyes cut sideways for half a second — reflex, not intention — weighing the tree line. The distance. Her position.

Both options resolved instantly. Run, she kills him. Fight, she kills him. He’d felt how fast she was back at the house. He wasn’t going to outpace a blade he couldn’t see coming.

’Okay. Think.’

He couldn’t give her the truth. Not all of it. But if he could shape the lie — bend it close enough to something real that it held under pressure — there was a chance. A narrow one, but a chance. If he could just—

"The next word out of your mouth."

Her voice came quiet and even, cutting straight through his thoughts.

"I’m going to kill you after it."

He looked at her.

"Because the fact that you’re thinking," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "means you’re deciding what to say. Which means you’re conniving." The smile remained, unchanged, unbothered. "So let me make this easier for both of us. I’ll give you two seconds." She straightened her grip on the blade. "One."

’What the—’

"Two."

The world stopped.

He felt it before he understood it — a stillness that shouldn’t have been possible, complete and absolute, like the space between a lightning strike and the sound it makes. And then something passed through him. Clean. Final.

His vision tilted.

The ground came up fast.

The last thing he saw before the forest floor filled his entire field of view was her face — still watching him, expression unchanged — and then—

"I have an ability!"

The words tore out of him.

He was still standing. Both feet on the ground, heart slamming against his ribs, lungs pulling in a breath that felt like the first one he’d ever taken. He hadn’t moved. She hadn’t moved. The blade was still in her hand, still lowered, and she was still sitting exactly where she’d been — legs crossed, back straight, watching him with those same level eyes.

He’d felt himself die.

He had felt it completely. The separation. The end. And somewhere in the space between that sensation and the next breath, his mouth had made the decision his brain hadn’t finished making yet.

The grip on her blade loosened. Just slightly.

"Explain," she said.

Denzel exhaled. He dropped his gaze to the ground for a moment, steadying himself, then brought it back to her.

"I’ve had it for a while," he said. "But I didn’t — I didn’t know how to use it. I didn’t know what it was." He paused, choosing each word with the care of a man walking across uncertain ground. "I grew up thinking I was going to live a simple life. No ability, no fighting, nothing like that. I’d accepted it. What happened with Patrick —" he stopped again, "— that wasn’t me using it on purpose. It was the last thing I had left."

He was lying. He knew he was lying. But he was stitching the lie together with everything real that he actually knew — the memories of the body he’d stepped into, the quiet life that had existed before him, the genuine confusion that came with a power he still didn’t fully understand. The truth made the lie breathe. Made it hold shape.

She watched him without expression.

"What is the ability?"

"Space manipulation."

She said nothing. Waited.

"I don’t fully understand it myself," Denzel continued. "But basically — I can move space. The space around me. If someone’s attack is passing through a certain point, I can shift that point. Redirect it without touching it." He met her eyes. "I can’t control it well. It doesn’t come when I call it. But in that last moment with Patrick, I had nothing else. So it came."

He held her gaze and said nothing more.

The forest was quiet again. A long moment stretched between them — long enough that he could feel his own pulse in his ears, feel the weight of everything he hadn’t said pressing against the back of his teeth. The zero element. That stayed buried. Everything else he’d given her as honestly as he could afford to.

This was it.

She either believed him or she didn’t.

The smile returned first. Slow, easy, like it had simply been waiting offstage.

She lowered the blade the rest of the way.

"See," she said pleasantly. "Was that so hard?"

The breath that left Denzel’s body was not dignified. His shoulders dropped. His knees threatened to follow. He put one hand against the nearest tree and let it take some of his weight, staring at the bark while his heartbeat negotiated its way back to something reasonable.

"Was this Patrick’s idea?" he asked, once he trusted his voice again. "Some excuse he’s using to explain why he lost?"

She laughed. A genuine one — short and clean, surprised out of her.

"This has nothing to do with Patrick," she said. "This is entirely mine."

Denzel turned back to look at her. "So the hypothesis."

"Precisely." She uncrossed her legs and set the blade across her knee, fingers resting loosely on the flat of it. "I believe you. For now. But if I find out you lied to me —" the smile didn’t move, "— I won’t bother asking for an explanation first."

He believed her.

"So." She looked up at him with the particular expression of someone about to say something they’ve been looking forward to saying. "Now I give you my hypothesis."

"And what’s that?"

"I want you to apply to the magical academy."

Denzel stared at her.

The forest offered nothing helpful. A bird called somewhere above them and went quiet.

"...You want me to what?"

"Why the hell would I even want to join the academy?"

The words came out before he’d fully decided to say them. He didn’t bother softening them.

She blinked at him. Then, unhurried, she tilted her head.

"It could do a great deal for you," she said simply. "More than you might think. If you’ve kept your ability hidden this long — kept it quiet, kept yourself off every record — then you already understand the value of staying invisible." She paused. "The academy makes you visible. But visible in a way you control."

"That’s not an answer."

"It could save your life."

"Also not an answer."

She exhaled through her nose, something that almost became a laugh. "You get money. You get recognition. If you place well enough — and I think you would — that kind of standing reaches further than just you. Your family feels it too."

Denzel didn’t say anything to that.

He hated that she’d said it. Because it landed exactly where she’d intended it to land, settling into the part of him that had been quietly carrying that particular weight for longer than he cared to think about. He looked away from her, jaw tight, eyes moving to a fixed point somewhere between the trees.

She wasn’t wrong. That was the problem.

But she wasn’t getting the satisfaction of him admitting it either.

"That’s my side," he said, turning back. "What’s yours? Why do you want me to do this? What are you getting out of it?"

She smiled. "Don’t worry about that."

"I’m worrying about it right now."

"I’m not some idealistic knight who goes around drawing out people’s potential for the good of the realm." She said it without any particular bitterness, just stating fact. "Whatever I do, I do for my own reasons. Selfish ones, if we’re being honest." She held his gaze. "But you survived Patrick. That earns you something. So I’ll tell you this much —" she paused, as though deciding exactly where to draw the line, "— I was asked. Someone came to me and made a request, and you are the shape of the answer."

"Asked by who?"

She said the name like it was nothing.

"An familiar acquaintance of yours....Tara."