Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 342- Kidnapped Kenji
Next Day.
On the street of the particular apartment complex where Kenji lived, the morning arrived with the crisp, unremarkable quality of a Tuesday.
The air was cool. The light was flat.
A white van, unmarked and unremarkable, idled near the corner of the block. The engine was off, but the three men inside were not. They sat in the dim interior, watching the entrance of the building with the specific, focused intensity of men who had spent the night convincing each other that they were predators rather than prey.
At 7:15 AM, the front door of the complex opened.
Kenji stepped out.
He looked exactly the way he always looked — unassuming, lean, wearing a light jacket over his training clothes, carrying his gym bag with the easy, unbothered posture of a man who had no idea he was a variable in someone else’s math.
An older woman — his neighbor, carrying a small bag of groceries — was walking up the path as he came down.
"Ah, Kenji-kun," she said. The warm, maternal, I-have-known-you-since-you-were-shorter quality of it.
"Morning, Auntie." Kenji stopped. Smiled. The genuine, easy quality of his smile reaching his eyes. "You’re out early."
"The market had fresh daikon." She looked at him, adjusting her bag. "You look tired. Are you eating enough? That dojo of yours works you too hard."
"I eat plenty, Auntie." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Don’t worry about me."
She patted his arm. The fond, familiar gesture.
As she turned to go inside, her eyes caught the white van idling at the corner. She paused, squinting slightly at the three silhouettes visible through the tinted windshield. The specific, neighborhood-watch quality of an older woman noting something out of place.
But her groceries were heavy, and the men weren’t doing anything illegal yet, so she turned back, shook her head, and went inside.
Kenji continued down the street.
He stopped near the corner to pet a stray dog that had wandered out from an alley — crouching down, scratching behind the dog’s ears, the soft, patient quality of a genuinely kind man taking a moment for something smaller than himself.
In the van, Goro watched this.
"Look at this pathetic loser," Goro sneered, his hands gripping the steering wheel. "Feeding stray dogs. This is the guy that red-eyed bitch wants?"
"Makes it easier for us," Ren said from the back seat, cracking his knuckles. "We grab him, we have the bait. We have the bait, we get the women."
Sho slid the side door open an inch.
"He’s moving," he whispered.
Kenji stood up, patted the dog one last time, and turned the corner, walking directly past the passenger side of the white van.
It happened in three seconds.
The side door slammed open.
Ren and Sho surged out, moving with the desperate, adrenaline-fueled speed of men executing a terrible idea. Before Kenji could even process the sudden movement in his peripheral vision, Ren’s arm wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air instantly, while Sho grabbed him around the waist.
"MMPH—!!"
Kenji kicked, his dojo training attempting to engage, but the sheer surprise and the combined weight of two larger men overwhelmed him. They hauled him backward, his feet dragging against the pavement, lifting him entirely off the ground and throwing him violently into the dark interior of the van.
The door slammed shut.
Goro hit the gas. The tires screeched against the asphalt, leaving a faint trail of burnt rubber as the van accelerated away from the curb, disappearing down the street before the stray dog even finished barking at the noise.
***
Two streets over.
Kira’s apartment.
The morning sun was finally breaking through the grey clouds, casting warm light across her small, neat living room. Kira stood at her bathroom sink, a toothbrush in her mouth, her dark hair tied up in a messy bun.
She wore a pair of tiny, tight athletic shorts and a thin, white tank top that clung to the heavy, substantial curves of her breasts. The fabric stretched tightly across her chest, the rounded weight of her cleavage fully pronounced, jiggling slightly with the vigorous motion of her brushing.
She spat, rinsed her mouth, and walked out into the living room, grabbing her towel to wipe her face.
She glanced out the window.
Her apartment overlooked the main avenue leading toward the dojo. From her second-story vantage point, she could see the traffic moving steadily.
She also saw the white van.
It was speeding. Not just driving fast — speeding with the reckless, weaving, erratic quality of a vehicle trying to escape something.
But that wasn’t what caught her eye.
What caught her eye was the passenger window, rolled halfway down, and the brief, frantic flash of a hand slamming against the glass from the inside. And then, for a split second, a face pressed against the window before being violently yanked back into the shadows.
Kenji’s face.
Kira’s heart stopped.
The towel dropped from her hand.
"KENJI!"
The scream ripped from her throat, raw and immediate.
She didn’t think. The Taekwondo instincts — the specific, instant translation of threat into motion — took over completely. She lunged forward, not bothering to grab shoes, not bothering to change out of her tiny shorts and tank top.
She hit the door, threw it open, and flew down the stairs of her apartment building, her bare feet slapping against the concrete steps. Her large breasts bounced heavily, violently against her chest with every frantic bound, the sheer weight of them swinging and jiggling against the thin fabric of her top, but she didn’t care.
She burst out onto the street just as the white van took the corner, its taillights flashing red before it disappeared behind a row of buildings.
"NO—!!" She gasped, her chest heaving, her breath coming in ragged pulls as she sprinted down the sidewalk. "Wait—!!"
She was fast, but she wasn’t faster than a V6 engine.
She reached the corner, her bare feet skidding against the pavement, only to see the van already two blocks away, accelerating toward the bridge that crossed the walking lake.
"Dammit—!" She yelled, her fists clenching in helpless fury.
Then, a roar.
A deep, guttural, bone-rattling roar of a high-performance motorcycle engine tore through the morning air, vibrating right up through the soles of her bare feet.
A sleek, black sportbike pulled up directly beside her, the tires biting the pavement hard as it came to a sudden, precise halt.
The rider was dressed in dark clothes, a helmet obscuring his features, but his voice cut through the noise of the engine with absolute, chilling authority.
"Come on," the rider said. "Sit. Now." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎
Kira didn’t hesitate.
There was no time to ask questions, no time to evaluate the stranger. She saw the bike, she saw the van getting away, and her body moved. She swung her thick, muscular leg over the back of the bike, her bare thighs gripping the leather seat tightly.
"Go!" she yelled.
The rider didn’t need to be told twice.
He twisted the throttle.
The bike lunged forward with explosive, terrifying force. The sudden acceleration was so violent that the front wheel lifted entirely off the ground in a massive wheelie.
"AHH—!"
