A Weird Revenge NTR System (Beta)-Chapter 20 - 19

"Go back to you home and act normal."

Mika Sato wore her clothes and slipped out of Kaito's room, the door clicking shut behind her with a muted thud. Her blonde hair swayed, loose and slightly tangled, catching the dim light as she moved—mechanical, silent—her sweater sagging over her small frame, skirt zipped tight against her hips.

Her thighs still sticky beneath the fabric, a faint tremor in her legs from what she'd just endured. The air bit cold against her flushed cheeks, the late hour pressing in—past midnight now, the world asleep save for her soft footsteps crunching gravel.

She didn't glance back, her expression blank, dazed, the app's command fading like a whisper as she headed home, a shadow dissolving into the dark.

Soon, Mika reached the Sato house, a modest two-story tucked in a quiet suburb, its windows dark save for a faint porch light flickering yellow. The clock nudged 12:13 AM as she fumbled her key into the lock, the metal scraping loud in the stillness.

She stepped inside, the hardwood cool against her sneakers, the familiar scent of jasmine incense curling through the air. Her parents slept upstairs, their snores a distant hum, but Riku—awake, restless—heard the creak of the door from the living room. He emerged from the shadows, tall and broad in a loose tank top, dark hair mussed, eyes narrowing as he caught her silhouette.

"Mika?" His voice cut through the quiet, low but edged with suspicion. "Where the hell were you this late?"

She froze mid-step, blonde strands falling over her face, her glassy stare flickering briefly before settling into something rehearsed. "Oh—hey, Riku," she said, forcing a casual lilt. "I was at Yuna's—studying late, you know, cramming for that bio exam."

Her words hung flimsy, a thin veil over the truth, but Riku's shoulders eased, his frown softening into a familiar smirk. "Yuna's, huh? You're such a nerd—hope she fed you something better than instant noodles."

Mika managed a weak laugh, brushing her hair back. "Yeah, she's got snacks for days—jealous?"

"Always," he shot back, stepping closer to ruffle her hair, the old brother-sister rhythm kicking in. "You're gonna ace it, brainiac. Just don't burn out."

She swatted his hand away, grinning faintly. "Says the guy who naps through lectures. Night, big bro."

"Night, Mika," he chuckled, watching her trudge upstairs, her skirt swaying with each step. The banter felt normal, grounding—a lifeline he clung to as he shuffled back to his room, the unease from earlier videos fading into a dull ache.

There is no way it could be Mika in the videos.

Riku's room was a cluttered cave—posters of soccer stars peeling from the walls, a tangle of chargers on the desk, his bed a mess of rumpled sheets. He flopped onto it, the mattress creaking under his weight, and let out a long, slow breath.

The videos sent to him from the fake account gnawed at him—Mika's moans, her naked body—but he'd convinced himself they were fake.

AI-generated bullshit, he thought, some sick prank. He'd deleted them from his phone after firing off a string of venomous texts to the anonymous sender—"Fuck you, creep, rot in hell, I will bury you alive if you ever show in front of me"—his fingers smashing the screen with each curse.

Now, lying back, he felt the tension bleed out, exhaustion tugging at his edges. She's fine, just saw her, he reasoned, setting his phone on the nightstand, screen dark. Sleep crept in fast, his breathing deepening, the night swallowing him whole.

Minutes later—1:47 AM—the silence shattered. His phone buzzed, a harsh vibration rattling the wood, jolting him awake. He groaned, eyes bleary, fumbling for it as the screen flared to life. Notifications piled up, relentless, flooding in from that same fake account—a cascade of videos and pics, thumbnails glowing in the dark.

Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.

His gut twisted, a cold sweat prickling his neck as he swiped one open. There she was again—Mika, blonde hair wild, naked, an unknown man's hands on her, her moans slicing through the quiet—"Ah... Ah..."—sharp and real. His stomach lurched, bile rising as he scrolled, video after video, each frame searing into his brain.

He stumbled to his feet, legs shaky, clutching the phone as he tapped another—a close-up, her ass in the air, finger marks red on her pale skin, her cunt dripping wet. The next showed her riding someone, tits bouncing, face twisted in slutty abandon—"... yes..."—the name faint but there, a ghost in her gasps.

Riku's knees buckled, nausea surging—he bolted to the trash can, vomiting hard, the sour stench mixing with his ragged breaths. Not AI, he thought, wiping his mouth, not anymore. The videos played on, relentless, his sister's degradation unfolding in vivid, undeniable clarity.

Then the last one loaded—Mika stood, legs spread, widening her pussy with dripping cum glistening on her thighs. She grinned, voice sultry, —"I'm Mika Sato, Riku Sato's sister—a bad, dirty girl who loves sex, sucking cock—hi, big bro, look what you've turned your little sister into!"

Her words hit like a sledgehammer, blaming him, pinning this filth on his shoulders—but what did I do? His mind spun, turmoil crashing—I didn't... how?—confusion and horror tangling into a suffocating knot. His face paled, blood draining, a sick chill crawling up his spine as the video looped her grin, her accusation, her shame.

Riku's breath hitched, ragged and shallow—he hurled his phone with a guttural yell, smashing it against the wall. The screen splintered, glass shards raining down, the device dead but the images burned into his skull.

No, no, no—his chest heaved, panic surging, a desperate need to know clawing at him. He remembered—one video, those fingerprints on her ass, red and distinct.

If they're there... He crept from his room, barefoot, the hardwood cold under his soles, heart hammering as he slipped down the hall to Mika's door.

It creaked open, her room dim, moonlight spilling through the blinds in thin silver streaks. She lay curled under her blanket, blonde hair fanned across the pillow, breathing soft and steady—innocent in sleep, a stark lie against the videos.

Riku hesitated, hands trembling, then knelt beside her bed, guilt and dread twisting his gut. He reached out, slow, careful, fingers brushing the hem of her pajama pants—cotton, loose—gently tugging them down. As he searched for the faint red marks on her ass cheek.

Mika stirred, a soft mumble—then her eyes snapped open. "Riku?!" Her voice cracked, shrill, bolting upright as she yanked the blanket up. "What the hell!" she screamed, the sound piercing, raw—panic flooding her face as she scrambled back against the headboard.

Footsteps thundered down the hall, the door banging wide as their parents burst in—Mom in a frayed robe, Dad's face thunderous—"What's going on?" Mom's voice shook, high and frantic, eyes darting between them.

Mika sobbed, tears streaking her cheeks, blonde hair wild as she clutched the blanket. "He—he pulled my pants down!" she choked out, voice breaking, pointing at Riku with a trembling hand. "I woke up and he was—touching me!"

Dad's eyes blazed, fury igniting—Riku opened his mouth—"No, I—" but the words drowned as Dad lunged, fist slamming into his jaw, a crack echoing through the room. "You sick bastard!" Dad roared, no time for explanation, no mercy—another blow landed, Riku's head snapping back, blood trickling from his lip.

Mom shrieked—"Stop it!"—but Dad didn't hear, grabbing Riku by the collar, dragging him toward the door. Punches rained down—chest, ribs—Riku gasping, crumpling under the onslaught, Mika's sobs a piercing backdrop. "You're no son of mine!" Dad bellowed, shoving him into the hall, a final kick crashing into his side. "Get out—never come back—you've crossed every goddamn line!"

Riku hit the floor, breath ragged, pain blooming sharp—Mom's wails faded as Dad slammed the door, the lock clicking shut. He crawled, then staggered to his feet, stumbling down the stairs, out into the night—cold air biting his bruised skin, blood smearing his tank top.

The street stretched dark and empty, a void swallowing him as he sank to the curb, knees drawn up, face buried in his hands. Tears welled, hot and bitter, spilling over—wails broke free, raw and guttural, echoing off the silent houses.

Miserable, he thought, alone—the videos flashing in his mind, Mika's voice accusing him, Dad's fists, the splintered phone. What did I do? The question looped, unanswered, torment clawing his chest—his family gone, his sister a stranger, his life shattered in a single night.

A stray cat slunk by, yellow eyes glinting, the only witness to his collapse—Riku's sobs grew hoarse, the dark pressing in, relentless. Across town, Kaito slept, a faint grin curling his lips, the app's red glow dim on his desk—his revenge unfurling, a storm he'd unleashed, oblivious to the wreckage piling in its wake.