Switching to a Reverse Harem, But the Male Lead Changed the Genre

She had never played a dating simulation game, but even she knew that Favorability was something that could swing wildly like a stock chart. Right now it had risen for whatever reason, but tomorrow it could just as easily turn and plunge back into a bear market.

Whims. Yes. He's a capricious man.

That man — no, that man's Favorability — was as unpredictable as a volatile stock. An unlisted share that a super retail investor like herself should never touch, never even glance at.

"Please, sit... down. The others will be coming down... shortly."

McLane suggested she take a seat, his voice stiff as he let his gaze slide away from her.

"Oh... right. Yes."

Natalie moved her wooden legs to a chair — not beside him, not directly across from him, but in some ambiguous spot diagonal from where he sat. From the corner of her eye she caught the man letting out a small sigh, his brow creasing as if displeased with her choice of seat.

Well, excuse me for not sitting right next to you or straight across from you. The atmosphere is already awkward enough as it is.

On the table sat dried meat hacked into rough chunks, hard bread, and a bit of jam — supplies from the baggage that McLane had evidently dredged up and dumped out in no particular order.

She knew, intellectually, that she ought to eat something before they set out, but her appetite refused to cooperate, and she could only glare at the plate in front of her.

Then came a small, deliberate ahem, and McLane spoke in an exceedingly careful voice.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I never imagined you had other plans."

"Oh... no, no. You made the offer out of consideration for me. There's nothing to apologize for."

"I hope things go exactly as you wish."

"Thank you. I hope the same for you."

And then the silence returned.

Tak, tak. Clatter. Scrape.

For a while, the only sounds were the man irritably sawing away at his food, the occasional sigh that escaped him, and the scrape of Natalie spreading jam on bread with the expression of someone about to be sick.

"Haaa..."

When another muted sigh drifted over from the far side of the table, Natalie flinched and darted a glance at him. Watching the crown of his head bowed over his food, and the meat — if it could still be called that — being reduced not merely to slices but to powder on his plate, made her appetite sink even lower than before.

Why does it have to be just the two of us, today of all days?

I should have just made up some excuse — "forgot something upstairs" — and gone back up when I had the chance.

Natalie was so awkward and uncomfortable she thought she might die of it. She wasn't actually eating, just glaring at her bowl, and her head was beginning to throb again.

At last she could bear it no longer. She had just set down her spoon and was pressing hard at the bridge of her nose when —

Screeeech.

The man shoved his chair back violently and rose, then strode off somewhere across the room. Was he finished eating? And yet the plate he'd been picking at still sat untouched on the table. From a corner of the dining hall came the sound of rustling, and then he returned with something piled high on a plate.

Did he not like what he was eating, so he went and got something else?

As a puzzled Natalie turned to look, McLane was striding not toward his own seat, but toward her.

Clack. And then he set down before her a mountain of a plate — bacon, dried fruit, cheese, and more besides.

"Eat a proper meal. We may not have the luxury of regular meals from here on, so it would be wise to fill up today while you can."

"Oh — no, I couldn't. If I eat this much, I'll..."

I'll be stuffed to bursting, one hundred percent.

As Natalie tried to politely decline, the man added in a low, somber voice.

"I've finished my meal, so I intend to head back up. Please, eat at your ease."

Translated: "You seem too uncomfortable to eat properly with me here, so I'll clear out."

Guilt and remorse layered themselves over the awkwardness she'd already been carrying.

Natalie asked the man, who was turning to leave with a downcast face,

"Where did you even find all this...?"

"It's bacon from a search of the territory's storehouse yesterday. There wasn't much left, so I set some aside — you didn't seem to have much of an appetite. And, well..."

"Yes? Go on."

"You remember what I said yesterday, don't you. About seeing each other — about how we should date, I meant to say, forget..."

But before he could finish the sentence, his eyes snapped toward the entrance of the dining hall. Orlando had been walking in at that very moment, and stood there gulping down a strangled breath, his face stricken.

"HURK!"

The most flustered person in the room, however, wasn't McLane. It was Natalie.

He was probably about to ask me to forget yesterday ever happened — and it cut off at exactly the words "we should date."

Isn't this the perfect setup for a misunderstanding?

She scrambled to her feet and greeted Orlando with desperate brightness.

"Er... Or...lando, sir. Welcome. Come sit down and have something to eat."

But Orlando, frozen in the doorway with a startled face, did the opposite of entering — he shuffled backward, step by step.

"Ah... um, er. It sounds like... the two of you are in the middle of something important. I'll head back up and come down again in a little while."

"No, no, Orlando. There's really no need. It was nothing important at all."

Even at her protests, Orlando showed no sign of changing his mind. If anything, a bitter smile deepened on his face, like a man who had learned something he'd rather not have known.

"It's just, to our captain, it sounded like a very important conversation. I'll excuse myself."

"No, really, it's fine — ah..."

She had taken a step toward Orlando when she instinctively checked his Favorability — and her whole face crumpled.

Reading the message glittering above Orlando's head, Natalie made a face like a child about to cry.

What's wrong with you, Orlando? What did I ever do to you?

For it to plunge that fast, he had clearly misunderstood something, and misunderstood it thoroughly. But it wasn't as if Natalie — hardly even a party to the matter — could step in and explain herself. While she stood there dumbfounded, Orlando bolted for the upper floor.

McLane had somehow drawn near again, and his sheepish voice came from behind her.

"Um... please, eat. It seems the vice-captain has gotten the wrong idea. I'll call him aside later and set him straight."

"Ah... yes."

"Then I'll head back up first."

"Right..."

The man gave a small bow and trudged out of the dining hall. And even after she had shuffled back to her seat, Natalie couldn't bring herself to touch the mountain of food piled on the plate in front of her — because Orlando's Favorability was giving her a splitting headache.

Could it be that he loves his captain so much that... he's giving up on liking me?

Thinking back over her conversations with Orlando, he had always been a man of deep, if unspoken, loyalty to his superior.

"The captain acts prickly, but I do believe he cares a great deal about you, Miss Pereira."

Even when McLane was being cold, Orlando seemed to have gone out of his way to smooth over the misunderstandings.

"Truth be told, our captain could wipe out an entire goblin village single-handedly. There'd be no need for the rest of us to lift a finger."

He had clearly placed deep trust in McLane's abilities, too. A grim premonition took root in Natalie's mind: if the other members got the same misunderstanding Orlando had, they might all hit an equally catastrophic bear market for the very same reason.

And that premonition proved true before long.

"Agassi, you still not finished eating?"

"Oh my — Munash... no, Mr. Munash, Mr. Muki. You're up already?"

"Is our Captain gone already? Orlando said you two were talking, so..."

"Ah..."

"So... did things go well, your talk with the Captain?"

"We could have come down later. We didn't need breakfast at all, really."

Watching her teammates' Favorability plummet before her eyes, Natalie passed from absurdity straight into indignation.

"No — the Captain went up ages ago! You've all got the wrong idea. It really was nothing, I swear, nothing!"

But of course her explanation did no good whatsoever.

"Nonsense. To our Captain, a talk like that would be very important indeed."