QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)

Chapter 414

Sailing west in the ocean, you will encounter multiple storms. You will see lost ships, their shattered hulls half-swallowed by the waves. You might even discover a new continent if you sail far enough—lands untouched by maps, filled with strange creatures and stranger people.

But amongst it all, there is a seemingly deserted island.

It does not appear on any chart.

No merchant routes pass near its shores. From a distance, it looks like nothing—just another patch of green surrounded by endless blue.

Up close, the island reveals itself. Trees stretch toward the sky, their leaves rustling in the warm breeze. A forest covers the interior, dense and ancient. The shores are lined with beautiful white sand, soft as powder, gleaming in the sunlight.

The only structure on the island is a cabin.

The cabin is peculiar. It does not look like a building that could have been built in this era.

There are no rough-hewn logs, no thatched roof, no smoke rising from a stone chimney. Instead, the walls are smooth and painted a pale gray. The windows are large, made of glass that does not ripple or distort. The roof is dark and angled, with gutters that channel rainwater into a barrel at the corner of the house.

Inside, the cabin has modern lighting and plumbing—fixtures that would not look out of place in the 21st century.

The floors are hardwood, polished and warm. The kitchen has a stove that lights with a click and a tap that runs hot water on demand.

In the living room, a television plays.

The screen glows in the dim light, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

Sitting on the couch, curled into the corner, is a woman.

She is beautiful, though her beauty is marked by scars. Pale lines crisscross her arms, her shoulders, her throat. Some are thin and faded, nearly invisible unless you look closely.

She is Lorelei.

Her dark hair is loose, falling past her shoulders. Her blue eyes are fixed on the television, bright with amusement. On her lap rests an egg—pale and glowing, pulsing with a soft, steady light. She cradles it against her stomach, one hand resting on its surface, her fingers tracing slow circles on the shell.

Two doors down from the living room, another woman works in a studio.

The room is cluttered with canvases, stacked against the walls and leaning on easels. Brushes sit in jars of cloudy water. Tubes of paint are scattered across the table, their caps missing, their contents dried and cracked.

In the center of the room, facing a large window that looks out at the sea, is Daphne.

She is painting.

Her hair is pulled back in a loose knot, strands escaping to frame her face. Her sleeves are rolled to her elbows, revealing paint-stained forearms. Her dark eyes are focused, intent, alive.

On the canvas before her is Lorelei.The brush moves in her hand, steady and sure, pulling color from the canvas like memory from the depths of the sea.

The Bunny was left in the hands of Marina and her crew while they settled here.

It is another peaceful day in their mundane life.

The sun rises over the island. The waves lap at the shore.

Lorelei is on the couch, the egg resting on her lap.The egg has grown considerably bigger. Nearly twice the size it was when Daphne first found it in the cave. The glow is brighter now, steadier, like a heartbeat made visible.

Then—

Crack.

Lorelei jumps.

"Daphne!"

The brush clatters to the floor. Daphne does not notice. She is already running—paint brushes still in her hands, paint smeared on her cheeks—bursting through the door and into the living room.

"What is going on?" she demands.

"The egg." Lorelei’s voice is high, almost breathless.

"What is wrong? Did something happen to it?"

She rushes closer, her heart pounding.

Lorelei looks up. Her blue eyes are wide. Her lips are parted.

"It is hatching."

Daphne freezes.

She looks at the egg.

There, at the very top, is the smallest crack. Thin. Pale. Barely visible unless you are looking for it.

She gasps.

"What should we do?"

"Water," Lorelei says. "From the ocean."

Daphne does not ask questions. She grabs a basin from the kitchen, that’s large and wooden and runs out the door. Her bare feet sink into the sand. The waves rush up to meet her, cold and salty and alive.

She fills the basin.

She carries it back.

Lorelei places the egg gently into the water. It floats there, bobbing slightly, the crack at the top just barely above the surface.

They wait.

The sun moves across the sky. The light shifts from gold to amber to pink. The television plays on, but neither of them hear it.

There is only the egg. Only the cracks spreading across its surface—slowly at first, then faster, thin lines spidering outward like lightning frozen in time.

An hour passes. Then two. Then three.

Daphne’s legs cramp. Her eyes sting. She does not move.

Lorelei’s hands are clasped in her lap, her knuckles white. Her breath comes in shallow gasps, like she is afraid to breathe too loud, afraid to disturb the process.

Then—

The tiniest webbed finger pushes through the shell.

They both gasp.

Daphne leans forward, her heart pounding. She cannot believe this is actually happening. She knew the egg was their child—she has known for weeks, for months, from the moment Lorelei told her in the cave. But knowing and seeing are different things.

Seeing makes it real.

She is going to be a parent now.

A mother.

The thought terrifies her.

Lorelei has tears streaming down her cheeks. She does not wipe them away. She does not seem to notice. Her eyes are fixed on the tiny finger, on the small patch of shell that has begun to crumble around it.

After a decade of waiting—of hoping, of surviving—her baby is finally hatching and seeing the light of day.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!