VILLAIN'S HAREM IN OTOME GAME

The indoor arena buzzed with the clash of blades and the rhythmic thump of boots.

High up on the stepped stone seats, students from the senior divisions were scattered in loose groups, waiting for their names to be called over the combat registry.

And then there was Eren.

Alone.

Several students gave him glances and whispered about his strange behaviour today.

He was seated completely isolated, wearing the combat uniform of the academy. He sat hunched forward with his left palm clamped over his left eye, staring down at the ground like a man made some worst life mistakes.

"I need to rethink my impulse-shopping habits."

"Did someone finally punched on that arrogant face of yours, Eren?"

A crisp, commanding, and delightfully smooth voice called him.

Eren turned his head slightly, keeping his left eye blocked as his right eye spotted an athletic, breathtaking figure stepping up the stone tiers.

Emma walked towards him. Her pink hair was tied back in a ponytail, spotlighting the sharp, tanned shapes of her jawline and a toned neck. She wore a simple white shirt with rolled-up sleeves that clung snugly to her sculpted shoulders and firm chest, paired with combat trousers.

"Look who decided to grace us with their presence," Eren teased, with a smug smile. "Is the temporary sword instructor slacking off on her duties today?"

Emma snorted, nudging his head before dropping onto the seat next to him, close enough that he could sense the scent of wild mint off her skin.

"First and second years are busy with lectures all morning," Emma replied, leaning her elbows back against the upper tier to spectate the sparring below. "Thought I’d drop by and inspect the combat progress of some senior students I trained personally."

"Look at you taking the academy instructor gig so seriously."

Emma’s storm-grey eyes gave a side glance. She arched an amused brow.

"Quit dodging, idiot," Emma demanded, leaning a fraction closer. "What the hell actually happened to your eye?"

Eren let out a theatrical sigh and slowly pulled his palm away.

His left eye looked completely normal.

"Nothing punched it, unfortunately," Eren muttered, rubbing the temple above his brow. "It just makes me violently dizzy every time I try to look at moving objects."

Emma tilted her head, scanning his face with curiosity. "Dizzy? From what? Did you bang your head against the headboard during one of your nightly activities?"

"I wish it were that scandalous," Eren drawled, turning his gaze back toward the open dueling rings below. "You know how I managed to get mana reserves recently, right?"

Emma gave a slight, understanding nod. "Yeah. You mentioned that whole business with the cursed girl, Violet, and how her excess mana helps your reserves."

"Well, my mana control is still an absolute wreck," Eren admitted, gesturing vaguely at his face. "I tried learning a special spell two days ago. I thought it would be smooth. Instead, the damn thing keeps flickering on and off, and my brain is currently paying for it."

Emma puffed out her cheeks into an adorable, annoyed pout, crossing her arms.

"Why the hell are you so obsessed with becoming some fancy mage anyway?" Emma grumbled, playfully elbowing his ribs. "With that monstrous physical strength and brute durability of yours, you should be focusing entirely on the blade! You’d make a terrifying swordmaster."

"A modern gentleman strives for well-rounded skills, Emma," Eren replied with a smirk. "Pure muscle is great, but a little magic keeps the enemies guessing."

"Fine, Mr. Gentleman. What does this ridiculous spell actually do?"

"It’s a predictive perception construct," Eren explained, keeping his voice low so the nearby students couldn’t overhear. "When it activates, my left eye doesn’t just see the present. It projects multiple overlapping ghost trails showing every probable action a target will take over the next two seconds. It’s like watching three different scenarios at the same time at triple speed."

Emma paused, her knightly instincts instantly recognizing the value of such an ability.

"Two seconds of precognition...?" Emma whistled, impressed. "Brat, that’s not a parlor trick. That’s a duel-ending cheat code."

She grabbed his chin and turned his face toward the match on the floor below.

"Your problem isn’t the spell, Eren. Your problem is that your brain is trying to consciously process all three timelines at once like a rookie reading a book," Emma instructed, her instructor tone naturally taking over. "Stop analyzing every single phantom trail with logic. Treat it like instinct. Pick the central trajectory, let your subconscious filter out the noise, and only react to the path of highest mana density."

"Easy for you to say," Eren muttered, but he relaxed his shoulders anyway.

Taking a slow breath, he let his left eye fully open, allowing the Temporal Eye to overflow his vision.

Down in the ring, two swordsmen clashed.

Instantly, the world splintered. Eren saw three ghostly, neon-blue silhouettes split off from the attacking student—one feinting high, one lunging low, and one sweeping for the back leg.

Following Emma’s advice, Eren stopped trying to force his mind to calculate each path. He relaxed his focus, letting the ghost trails blur into pure instinct and his mind picked up lunge. The nausea began to recede, replaced by a smooth clarity as the real fighter mirrored the low lunge precisely one point eight seconds later.

"Well, look at that," Eren murmured, his eyes tracking the clash with precision. "The tomboy captain actually knows what she’s doing."

Before Emma could snap back with a punch, a booming voice echoed across the arena dome.

"Next match! Participant from Class D: Eren Volsver!"

Eren let out a confident breath, rolling his shoulders and stood up. He flashed the pink-haired girlfriend an arrogant smirk, rolling his wrists.

"Time for a demonstration. Watch closely, Captain. You’re about to see how a genius tests his cheat skill on some unlucky guy."

"And his opponent: Alice!"

Eren froze.

The smug, handsome smirk instantly faded, replaced by a flat, soulless expression as his brain halted.

His mind screamed in horror. ’Testing predictive eye hack? Fun and educational. Testing them against the literal protagonist who hits with the impact of an orbital strike? That’s fuking suicide.’

Emma took one look at his completely drained, horrified face and burst into laughter.

"Pfft—bahahaha!" Emma practically doubled over, slapping her knee before delivering a slap at his ass, pushing him down the stone steps. "Well, Mr. Gentleman! Go on down there and show the Saintess what a certified genius can do! Good luck surviving, idiot!"

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