Evil MC's NTR Harem

The midterm exams loomed like an unrelenting storm, leaving students across the school drowning in stress.

Conversations were filled with frantic whispers about difficult questions and impossible study loads. The hallways echoed with the collective groans of sleepless nights and last-minute cramming sessions.

But amidst the chaos, one person stood untouched, radiating a calm superiority: Ross Oakley, our OP evil MC himself.

"How much did you get in accounting, Ross?" Dennis asked, dragging his feet as he approached. His expression was a mix of hopelessness and envy.

It was painfully obvious that the chubby guy had bombed the test, yet he couldn't help but hope Ross had somehow struggled too.

"Perfect, as usual." Ross's grin was smug, almost predatory, as he leaned back in his chair like a king surveying his kingdom.

Dennis groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Man, this sucks. You breeze through life like it's a video game set on easy mode while the rest of us are stuck in hard mode with no save points."

"Ahhhhhhh! Life is so unfair!" Daryl chimed in, throwing his hands into the air in exaggerated frustration. "Not only do you have beautiful girls chasing after you like you're some kind of celebrity, but now you're lucky and smart? Seriously, did you secretly turn into Superman or something?"

Ross chuckled, savoring their reactions. These two had been his so-called loser friends back in the day—guys who had been content to sit in the shadows, barely noticed by anyone.

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But now, standing next to Ross, they didn't look like losers anymore. Their clothes were sharper, their confidence higher, and their wallets significantly heavier as Ross gave them thousands of dollars over these last few weeks alone.

Ross wasn't one to forget the people who stood by him during his rise to the top.

While the world might view him as ruthless, he knew how to take care of the ones who mattered. His girlfriends, his friends—those who earned his loyalty were always rewarded.

"Here," Ross said casually, pulling out two checks and handing one to each of them.

Dennis stared at the figure written on the slip of paper as if he'd just seen a ghost. "Is this… is this real?"

"A million bucks each," Ross said with a shrug, his tone so nonchalant it bordered on dismissive. "Spend it wisely. And don't tell anyone. I'm not in the mood to start a charity for the whole school."

Daryl's jaw dropped. "You're just giving us a million dollars? Like, just like that?"

Ross's grin widened, devilishly smug. "Of course. I can't have my friends looking like paupers while I'm living like royalty, can I? And I guess this much money is enough to take away your sorrows for not passing the accounting midterm exams. Hehehe."

The two friends exchanged stunned glances. They'd known Ross had hit it big with the lottery and viral fame, but this level of generosity still caught them off guard.

"Dude, you're insane," Dennis muttered, clutching the check like it was a winning lottery ticket.

"Insanely rich," Ross corrected with a laugh. "But remember, not a word to anyone else. It'd be stupid to start handing out millions to every random person who asks. I could do it, but why would I waste my time on people I don't care about?"

As the three of them walked out of the classroom together, Ross exuded an effortless charisma that drew attention from everyone they passed. Whispers followed him like a shadow.

To the rest of the school, he was untouchable—a man who had it all: brains, beauty, money, and power.

Dennis and Daryl, now millionaires in their own right, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of their lives. Standing beside Ross Oakley, they'd gone from losers to winners in a story that no one else could believe.

For Ross, it was just another day.

* * *

Another week passed, and Ross found himself summoned by the basketball coach. The situation struck him as mildly amusing; this was the first time they had even laid eyes on each other, yet here they were, preparing for something supposedly monumental.

The office was a chaotic mix of worn-out gym equipment, mismatched chairs, and a whiteboard covered in hastily scrawled plays.

Coach Hawkins, a large man with a ruddy face and a polo shirt that barely contained his belly, was perched precariously on the edge of his desk.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Despite his laid-back posture, his sharp eyes betrayed a no-nonsense demeanor.

"You're up for tomorrow, Ross," Coach Hawkins announced, cutting straight to the point. "We'll meet at 7 a.m. sharp in the gym. It's our first game against Eastmount College. We've done our end of the deal. Now, we need you tomorrow."

Coach Hawkins had seen the now-famous video of Ross scoring 263 points in a single game—a feat so absurdly phenomenal that it was still hard to believe. And what was even more impressive?

Ross had done it with a perfect shooting rate.

Still, Hawkins wasn't one to get swept up in hype. He'd coached long enough to know that no one was flawless.

Talent was one thing; teamwork, endurance, and composure were entirely different challenges.

The upcoming game would be his first chance to see if Ross could live up to his reputation when it really mattered.

Ross nodded casually. "Yup, I'll see you and the rest of the guys tomorrow, Coach Hawkins." His tone was calm, almost indifferent, as if tomorrow's game was just another item on his to-do list.

Without another word, Ross turned and walked out of the coach's office, his steps unhurried. For him, the thought of the game didn't stir any nerves or tension—only a flicker of excitement.

It wasn't about winning or proving anything; it was about breaking the monotony of his life. A little competition, a little challenge—it was just the kind of spice he needed to keep things interesting.

Coach Hawkins watched him go, already sizing up the enigma that was Ross Oakley. Tomorrow would reveal a lot more than highlight reels ever could.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. Scoring 260-plus points was no small feat; it was absolutely no laughing matter. If Ross could even manage half of that tomorrow, the game would be a breeze.

The fat coach couldn't hide his smile, feeling a sense of pride in having this genius on his team. It was clear that Ross was something special.

Luckily for him, he would soon know how special Ross really was soon enough.

***

Huge shoutout and thanks to ddecoen for the gifts!

You are awesome! Thank you! ^_^