Bear the Burden of the Harem

"…You smell like other women. A lot."

"……."

No wonder she'd looked so adorably puppy-like earlier. I just hadn't expected her to have the nose of an actual dog. Or maybe… was it because her Mana Sense was so sensitive? Apparently she'd picked up on Seraphina's perfume—and the traces of what we'd done together.

Status Analysis.

"So… I wanted to wash you. That's why I waited."

Hanna's hand crept slyly toward my waist. Her eyes made her intentions unmistakably clear. She had no intention of merely giving me a wash.

Ha….

I sighed inwardly. I had barely managed to put Seraphina to sleep, and now Hanna was waiting for me—wide awake, bursting with energy, her eyes hungering like a starving beast in heat.

And my stamina was already running on fumes.

Face her in this state? The word death by overexertion during sex flickered through my mind.

But I couldn't refuse those desperate eyes staring up at me, and I couldn't send her away from my door either. If I did, she'd sulk and make my life miserable for days on end—I could see it coming a mile away.

Wiping my face with both hands, I recalled the skill selection screen from last time.

The skill I'd laughed off and skipped, dismissing it as useless for anything but sex.

…I should've picked it.

The regret hit me to the bone.

Lifting my leaden eyelids, I wrapped an arm around Hanna's shoulders.

"…Fine. Come in."

"Yes, Captain! ♡"

She burrowed into my chest with a bright smile. Praying I'd have anything left of my hips by tomorrow morning, I opened the door.

The next morning.

"Ugh…."

I woke up clutching my aching lower back. On the wrecked sheets beside me, Hanna lay fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the world.

"She just doesn't run out of steam, does she…."

The old Hanna—the one who'd be satisfied after a single round and drift off—was gone. And last night I'd already been drained from my romp in the car with Seraphina, so when Hanna pounced, I suffered through until dawn.

I really should have taken [Iron Virility] back then.

If [Bullet Time] was my survival tool on the battlefield, then [Iron Virility] was survival gear for my hips. Considering the very nature of the Harem Overload All-in-One Mod, the women were only going to multiply, never shrink. It had practically been a mandatory mod all along.

Only now—after being wrung dry all night—did I finally check the system messages I hadn't had the chance to read.

I tensed up for a moment. What if the EXP fell short?

Thankfully, it had been needless worry.

Without hesitation, I selected Acquire New Skill.

"Ha…."

Material Conversion. Even at a glance, it was an outstanding skill. In an isolated position or on a battlefield with supply lines cut, it would be nothing short of a godsend. Turning dirt into bread, pebbles into bullets—what more could you ask for?

But there was a catch.

It consumes mana.

Unlike Seraphina or Hanna, I had never awakened mana. Naturally, I had no idea how to wield it, and the mana concentration in my body was thin as trace moisture.

Unless a skill came along later that could awaken it for me, this thing was about as useful as an ornament—something I'd own but never be able to use.

If that was the choice, I'd rather take the skill that would answer for my hips and everything below the belt.

With a trembling finger, I pressed 1.

And that was the moment.

"Nngh—?!"

A wave of heat surged up from deep in my abdomen, as if someone had injected highly concentrated caffeine and a potency tonic straight into my veins.

A crackling current raced up my spine, and the back pain that had felt like it would snap me in half vanished as though washed away. Vitality flooded back into my leaden leg muscles, and an almost absurd surplus of energy filled every corner of my body.

But the most dramatic change, by far, was below the waist.

Throb.

My poor member—exhausted past its limits and hanging limp just moments ago—rose stiff and proud like a pillar of steel. The pulsing blood flow and hardness within were on a whole different dimension from before. If anything, it even felt like it had grown a size.

"Confirmed. Fully functional."

Right then—

"Mmm… Captain…?"

Roused by my stirring, Hanna woke, rubbing her eyes. Tangled brown hair, nothing but an oversized shirt hanging loose—an utterly defenseless sight.

She yawned, then spotted what was pitching a very obvious ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tent beneath the covers.

"Wha—?!"

Her eyes went round.

"After… after everything we did last night… already…?"

She wet her lips with her tongue, the way one savors an appetizing meal.

"Aren't you tired, Hanna?"

"Mm… a little sore, but…."

She shyly crawled up over my thighs.

"If the Captain wants me… then…"

"…Any time at all ♡"

Two weeks passed.

Time in the Imperial Capital flew by like the wind, dizzying and relentless.

The Emperor and the military brass were utterly obsessed with exploiting us "war heroes" as propaganda tools. By day we were hauled from banquet to ceremony, and by night we drowned ourselves in the capital's pleasures.

Of course, I made sure to secure the real goods amid all the fanfare.

The massive reward money the Emperor had granted me was converted into munitions stock and land deeds in the newly developed districts. As time went on, my assets would balloon at a staggering rate. I was becoming a monster bred by capitalism—necessary, really, if I intended to live high on the hog after I eventually mustered out.

I didn't neglect to make the rounds of the black markets and auction houses in between, either. Using [Status Analysis], I scooped up treasures disguised as fakes at rock-bottom prices—a bonus on top of everything else. While others were calling in appraisers, a single activation of my skill earned me profits thirty times over.

But I had an asset more certain than money.

"Presenting arms for the Commander of 2nd Company!"

Clack—!

"Loyalty!"

The parade ground thundered with the crash of boots. It was the unit reorganization.

With the 7th Regiment elevated to the 7th Brigade, the unit's size had expanded enormously, and I was promoted to Commander of 2nd Company, 1st Battalion.

Ordinarily, a new company commander spends his first months pulling his hair out—learning the unit, whipping lazy senior NCOs into shape, breaking up old cliques.

None of that applied to me. The company drawn up in formation below the reviewing stand had already been rebuilt from crown to sole into an extension of my own two hands.

"Sir!"

The first to answer was that hulking giant of a man, bellowing commands that seemed to shake the parade ground itself.

"Company Logistics Chief, Master Sergeant Gunter! Personnel report!"

The logistics chief post should normally have gone to a senior Master Sergeant, but given the wartime circumstances and my forceful recommendation, Gunter had claimed the seat for himself.

Once the inspection was over, we moved to the company commander's office.

"Heh heh, Commander. A few of the new recruits look like they'll be worth something, sir? Already dug through their backgrounds from top to bottom."

The first through the door was Kurt, now sporting sergeant stripes.

The man was still moving like an extension of my own limbs. Was the threat of the Pioneer Battalion from back then still keeping him in line? No—knowing this quick-witted rat, he'd probably already decided on his own to latch onto my coattails.

Watch this.

Status Analysis.

His loyalty sprang not from conviction but from self-interest. Which was, paradoxically, exactly why I could trust him. As long as I kept dangling treats, Kurt would never betray me.

"Good. Leave the roster on the desk. Assign the promising ones to your side first."

"Sir! Yes, sir! Your eye for talent is truly exceptional, Commander!"

Kurt snapped off a crisp salute and bustled out.

Then the door opened again, and the next visitor stepped in—and a fragrant aroma of coffee filled the room.

Click.

The moment the door shut behind her, the stiff military atmosphere melted away in an instant.

"Captain…! I've brought your coffee. Two spoons of sugar, one of cream… right?"

Hanna, whose uniform now fit her remarkably well, approached with cheeks flushed pink.

She was wearing sergeant's stripes. A conscript elevated to NCO in a matter of weeks—and appointed to a post no one had ever heard of: Tactical Intelligence Analyst.

In truth, no such billet existed at company level anywhere in the Imperial ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Army's tables of organization. You could search the regulations from cover to cover and find nothing.

The reason this impossible personnel action had gone through, however, was perfectly clear: Field Marshal Ludwig and Brigade Commander Karl, both of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whom had recognized her [Mana Sense] ability, were backing me from behind.

'A rare talent with an innate gift for reading the flow of the battlefield.'

That was how we'd packaged it for the higher-ups. The reality was a fabricated cover identity, created so that her radar ability could be used officially, without restriction, right at my side.

Now she could glue herself to me through every operations briefing, and not a single soul could object. She was, for all practical purposes, my personal intelligence adjutant.

"Hee hee… Captain Jaeger is my direct superior… it really does feel like a dream…!"

I didn't even need to open a [Status Analysis] window. If she'd had a tail, it would already have been spinning like a propeller.

And she wasn't the only one.

The two officers seated on the sofa, poring over an operations map, rose to their feet: Lieutenant Walter, my former 1st Platoon leader, and Lieutenant Franz, formerly of the 4th.

Even those two—my seniors in commissioning year—had been folded into my command under this reorganization.

"Heh heh, Captain Jaeger. Or rather—Commander. I look forward to serving under you. To think I get to watch that uncanny command of yours… yours, I mean, Commander's… up close from now on…"

Lieutenant Walter showed not a trace of bitterness—quite the opposite; he looked relieved. Well, survival mattered most on the battlefield. To a battle-hardened veteran, pride was a secondary concern.

"Captain Jaeger as my direct superior… it's a dream come true…!"

Lieutenant Franz, meanwhile, was gazing at me with the eyes of a worshipper at a shrine.

With the old 3rd Platoon men and my comrades forming the backbone of the entire company, 2nd Company had been in the palm of my hand from day one.

Everything was as close to perfect as it could get.

Money, honor, power—and loyal subordinates to boot.

If only I could have spent my days in the capital sipping honeyed wine on some comfortable rear-echelon posting.

But the world—or rather, the war—had no intention of letting me rest.

The very next day, word arrived that the Republic had declared war on the Empire.