Reborn With The Milf "Harem" System

The staff wing slept like a graveyard. Only the hum of old fluorescent lights and the distant creak of pipes reminded me we weren't already buried. Reina's contact had delivered, a code scribbled onto the back of a medical supply form. It worked like a charm: one beep, a green flash, and the archive door clicked open.

The room smelled of paper rot and dust, heavy with decades of forgotten ink. Rows of filing cabinets stretched like tombstones, each drawer a coffin of secrets. The hum of my system pulsed faintly in my skull, not alarms—just awareness.

> [Quest Stage: Investigation Active.]

[Objective: Uncover Incident Report – Hoshino Saki.]

I moved with the patience of a soldier clearing a room. Not speed...efficiency. My fingers brushed over labels: Student Health Records, 1990–1999. Incident Reports, 2000–2010. There. That was the range.

Behind me, Mayumi whispered, her voice a low rasp of tension. "Feels like trespassing in a morgue."

"Because it is," I murmured, sliding the drawer open. Metal screeched softly. A gust of paper-scented air rushed up like something exhaling. My eyes scanned until—there. Hoshino, Saki. Thin folder. Too thin.

I pulled it out. One page. A single, fucking page.

Accident. Student fell from rooftop. No foul play suspected. Case closed.

That was it. No photos, no witness accounts, no timestamps beyond a date: April 17th, 2009.

"Bullshit," I muttered. "They scrubbed it."

Reina crouched beside me, her fingers ghosting the edge of the page. She was pale, her nurse's eyes catching the gaps. "No autopsy. No counseling logs. If this girl was treated, I'd see something. Someone buried her twice."

Mayumi cursed under her breath. "Why cover up a suicide? Unless it wasn't one."

The system pulsed again, sharper this time.

> [Clue Acquired: Redacted Records.]

[Hidden Objective Added: Identify staff involved in suppression.]

My grip on the file tightened. This wasn't just about Saki haunting the halls. Someone alive had a hand in silencing her story.

And that meant someone alive still remembered.

I folded the file, tucking it into my jacket. "This isn't the truth. This is a decoy. The real records are somewhere else, private hands, maybe a locked cabinet in admin. Which means…" I looked at them both. "…we dig deeper. We don't just hunt the ghost. We hunt whoever tried to erase her."

Rika's voice broke the silence from the doorway. She shouldn't have followed, but there she was...shaking, eyes locked on the empty drawer like it might still bleed.

"April 17th…" Her lips trembled. "That was… the day of our spring play." She looked at me, horror and realization twisting her face.

"She was there, Renji. She was with us."Rika's hand clutched the doorframe so tight her knuckles whitened. Her breathing hitched, uneven, like her lungs had forgotten rhythm. Her eyes weren't on us—they were on the folder in my jacket, on the drawer marked 2009.

"Rika," I said, stepping toward her slowly, voice calm but edged with command. "What do you remember?

She couldn't say it...maybe it was just a flash but she remembered nothing at that moment

She clung to me, sobbing and grinding against my hand like a woman possessed. Her trauma wasn't a weakness anymore, it was fuel. And through her, I was dragging Saki's truth into the open.

"Good girl," I whispered against her ear. "Every tear, every moan, you're giving me pieces of her. And I'll use every single one to destroy her ghost."

Her scream cracked the silence, half orgasm, half breakdown, echoing through the archive like a haunting of its own.

The air in the archive room felt heavier the deeper we dug. Dust motes spun in the narrow beams of light from our flashlights, like a thousand eyes watching us. The silence pressed harder than footsteps ever could.

Reina crouched by the metal cabinet, flipping brittle files open one by one. Her nurse's steadiness showed in the way she scanned without hesitation, her gloved fingers running across names and dates like she'd been trained for this. Mayumi stood at the door, arms folded, her body language casual but her eyes sharp, scanning the hall every few seconds.

Rika sat beside me at the table, stacks of yellowed papers spread between us. Her fingers traced the margin of a yearbook photo, her breathing uneven. She was the living link, and the past was clawing at her whether she wanted it or not.

"Here." Reina slid a folder across the table. "Incident report. Dated ten years ago."

I leaned forward, eyes narrowing as the faded ink took shape.

Subject: Hoshino, Saki – female student, 2nd year.

Incident: Found on rooftop after curfew.

Details: Refused to leave premises. Emotional disturbance suspected. Written warning issued.

The handwriting was neat, almost too neat. No mention of an attempt, no acknowledgment of why a sixteen-year-old girl was standing on the edge of a roof.

"Whitewashed," I muttered. "They scrubbed it down to a disciplinary note. No talk of suicide, no mental health referral, nothing."

Reina's lips tightened. "That's deliberate. Someone didn't want this documented as a death-risk case. Which means administration knew, and chose image over life."

Rika's hand shook as she pulled another sheet forward, photocopied minutes from a staff meeting. Her voice quavered as she read aloud:

"Concerns raised regarding student Hoshino. Recommendation: discontinue club participation until behavior stabilizes."

She dropped the page like it burned her. "I remember this… she was in literature club with me. That week… she just stopped showing up."

"Because they cut her off," Mayumi said darkly from the doorway. "Isolation dressed up as discipline."

I sifted through the rest of the folder, but something felt off. Too clean, too linear. "This isn't the whole file. They've pulled pages, look at the numbering. We're missing at least three reports."

Reina's brow furrowed. "If they purged them officially, they'll be locked in restricted storage. Principal's office, or the board's private archive."

I tapped the table, instinct tightening my chest. "Which means someone wanted this buried, but not destroyed. Paper trails like this don't vanish, they just get hidden where only certain eyes can see."

Rika's gaze lifted to me, haunted. "Renji… if she was erased, then why does she still—why is she still here?"

I held her stare, unblinking. "Because something doesn't want to stay buried. And if she's tied to this school, to you, it's because she was denied closure. Maybe worse, maybe she was pushed."

The System chimed in my skull, its voice cool and surgical.

[Clue Acquired: Records tampered – official cover-up identified.]

[Quest Path Expanded: Locate missing files.]

[Hint: Cross-reference restricted archives with yearbook entries. Witnesses may include staff still active.]

I exhaled slowly. "We've got our next step. We need those missing files, and we need names. Yearbooks, faculty lists, anyone who was here when she fell."

Mayumi cracked her knuckles again, a slow grin spreading. "And I'll start sniffing around the old guard. Janitors, security—people who don't leave, even when the stories do."

Reina shut the cabinet with a metallic thud. "Tonight's enough. If we push deeper now, we'll draw attention."

I glanced once more at the hollowed-out file on the table. A girl reduced to bullet points, stripped of humanity even before she died.

No wonder her ghost smiled with such emptiness.

We packed the papers back into the cabinet, careful to leave no trace of what we touched. The silence of the archives pressed down like a coffin lid, thick with secrets.

Rika closed the last drawer with trembling fingers. "It feels wrong. Like we're disturbing something that doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Good," I said, standing. "If it fights this hard to stay buried, then we're on the right trail."

Reina slipped her gloves off and tucked them into her coat pocket. Her voice was steady, clinical. "The next files won't be this easy. Restricted storage means keys, codes, and a very quiet approach. If they catch us, we'll be the ones labeled disturbed."

"Then we don't get caught," Mayumi cut in. She was leaning on the doorframe now, gaze flicking down the hall. "I'll handle ground coverage, see which staff are still here from that era. People talk when they think you're not listening."

I nodded, then turned to Rika. She still sat at the table, staring at the single sheet she hadn't put back: Saki's "incident" report. Her thumb brushed the faded ink like she was afraid to let go.

"She was my friend," she whispered. "We used to trade books, talk about silly things… And now, this is all that's left of her. A warning slip."

I reached out and laid a hand over hers, grounding her. "Not for long. We're going to find the truth. Piece by piece, page by page. She won't stay erased."

Her eyes lifted, wet but sharp. "Promise me, Renji."

"I promise."

The words didn't feel like comfort, they felt like a contract. One the System itself echoed:

[Quest Path Locked: You are bound to uncover the full truth of Saki Hoshino.]

Reina gathered her bag. "We move tomorrow night. I'll prepare the access routes."

Mayumi cracked her neck, grinning with that predator's ease. "And I'll keep ears to the ground. Somebody knows more than they've written."

I gave one last glance at the cabinet, its drawers swallowing the lies whole again. For now, the school slept, unaware of the shadows we were peeling back.

But I could feel it, the calm wasn't safety. It was tension, coiled and waiting.

The ghost wasn't done with us. And neither was the truth.