Harem Training System: Every Girl I Train Makes Me Stronger!

Chapter 45: 45. The System Logged Everything and Won’t Let Me Live It Down

The screen flickered, a sudden, sharp violet light washing over the room.

[Very well.]

[If you wish to move past the ’emotional’ data, we shall proceed to the functional.]

[However,] the text slowed down, the letters growing larger and more pointed, [do not pretend your ’nobility’ was entirely unadulterated.]

[If the system is measuring ’genuine trust,’ it is also recording the moment you spent forty-five minutes ’teaching’ the Vice Headmaster the optimal technique for oral stimulation.]

[Your ’instructional’ methods were... remarkably thorough.]

William’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He choked on his own breath, a strangled, embarrassed noise escaping his throat.

"I-it was a teaching moment!" he barked at the ceiling, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled a sunset. "She was... she was curious!"

"It was a moment of mutual exploration! You don’t have to be a goddamn prick about it!"

[The data does not lie, William,] the System replied coolly. [Now, shall we begin your training, or do you require more time to recover from your ’instructional’ duties?]

"Alright, alright, I’m sorry...! Moving on now!"

[Training Progress is considerably less complicated,] the system said, [which I suspect will be a relief given how flustered you currently are.]

"I’m not flustered."

[Your heart rate suggests otherwise, but I’ll allow the lie for now.]

William chose not to dignify that with a response.

[Training Progress functions exactly as it sounds.]

[You continue teaching your students the way you always have, and the system tracks their advancement toward mastery of whatever skill you’re currently focused on.]

[Reaching one hundred percent means genuine mastery, not incremental improvement.]

[If you’re teaching Lia an unfamiliar sword technique, for example, Training Progress will track specifically her advancement in that technique, and completion means she has fully internalized it.]

"No shit... that’s actually straightforward," William said, sounding almost surprised. "It’s going to be fast for sure."

[I told you it would be less complicated.]

[Additionally, each time you bring a student’s Training Progress to full completion, you receive one thousand points, which function as currency within this new system.]

[Points can be spent on new skills, abilities, or general capability enhancements, either for yourself or for whichever student you choose to invest in.]

"And what exactly am I choosing from?"

The screen shifted again, unfurling into a long list of categories, each populated with entries that ranged from combat techniques to magical disciplines to what appeared to be more abstract capabilities entirely.

[Skills are organized by affinity,] the system explained.

[Certain abilities suit certain talents better than others.]

[Lia’s swordsmanship background makes her naturally compatible with blade-based techniques, for instance, while Ellie’s healing specialization opens different categories entirely.]

[Attempting to force an incompatible skill onto someone is possible but considerably more expensive and less effective.]

William scrolled through the list slowly, noting names that ranged from the straightforward to the genuinely strange.

Perfect Parry.

Mana Overflow Control.

Silent Step.

Battlefield Clarity.

Each one carried a point cost beside it, some modest, others eye-watering.

"And the stats you mentioned earlier."

[Reduced to five, for simplicity’s sake,] the system said. [Mana, Stamina, Power, Guts, and Wit.]

[I imagine you can guess what each represents without further explanation.]

William could, actually. Mana for magical capacity, Stamina for endurance, Power for raw physical force, Guts for the kind of mental fortitude that kept a person fighting when every instinct said to break, and Wit for the sharpness that let someone read a battlefield or an opponent before either one revealed itself openly.

"This is genuinely a massive upgrade," William admitted, still scrolling through skill options with the particular fascination of a man who had spent decades building soldiers out of raw material and had just been handed a considerably more direct set of tools.

"Okay! I’m sold... Fully sold for this new improvement."

[I thought you might be,] the system said, sounding rather pleased with itself.

...

William spent several more minutes browsing skill categories, mentally cataloging which entries might suit which student, already forming half a dozen plans he intended to revisit once he had proper time to think them through.

The Affection Progress mechanic still sat slightly uneasy in his chest, less because of what it implied and more because of the word itself, "harem," sitting in the system’s title like an inescapable joke at his expense.

"For the record," William muttered, mostly to himself, "I didn’t ask for a system with the word ’harem’ baked into the name."

[And yet here we are,] the system said. [For what it’s worth, the mechanics reward genuine connection, not exploitation.]

[You could, theoretically, attempt to manipulate people into false intimacy for the sake of power.]

[I suspect it wouldn’t work particularly well, and I suspect you’re not the type to try.]

"No," William agreed quietly. "I’m really not a fucking dick; that’s why."

[Well, that explains the situation you’re current in right now.]

"Oh, shut the fuck up... it’s just a mistake, and I’m not the one to blame other than her as well for that wine," William exhaled. "But at least I’ll be a gentleman to take responsibility for what I just did."

Whatever else this system was, it had at least been built around something he could live with: care given honestly and returned honestly, strength built from genuine trust rather than exploitation of it.

If the price of that was an embarrassing name and the occasional uncomfortable notification, William decided he could live with it.

A muffled sound from the bedroom pulled his attention away from the interface entirely.

A sharp, startled gasp, followed almost immediately by the unmistakable sound of someone scrambling upright too fast and colliding with something solid, likely the headboard, judging by the pained yelp that followed.

"Uhmmm... Ow... what the... why does my head feel like—"

William was already moving toward the doorway when Catherine’s voice cut off entirely, replaced by a sound William could only describe as a strangled shriek of pure horror.

He pushed the door open to find Catherine sitting bolt upright in bed, blanket clutched to her chest with white-knuckled desperation, staring at him with an expression somewhere between panic and pure, dawning mortification.

Her silver hair, usually so carefully styled, hung in a wild tangle around her face, and the flush spreading across her cheeks had nothing to do with wine this time.

"William," she said, her voice climbing steadily higher with each syllable. "Why are you in my house...?"

"Why are you standing in my doorway...?"

"Why do I not remember anything past the third glass of wine, and why... and why am I not wearing—"

"Catherine," William said, holding both hands up in the universal gesture of a man trying to prevent a situation from escalating. "Nothing happened!"

"I promise you, genuinely, nothing happened."

Catherine stared at him, breathing hard, clearly not remotely convinced. "Then why were you in my house all night...?"

"Why do I feel like I got run over by a cart...?"

"What exactly do you remember happening last night, because I remember almost nothing after we started talking about the wine... so that’s why... I need you to tell me everything right now."

"I will," William said, keeping his voice as level and reassuring as he could manage, "but maybe get dressed first."

"This conversation is going to go a lot smoother if we’re both wearing actual clothes and sitting somewhere that isn’t your bed."

Catherine’s eyes widened further, and she yanked the blanket even tighter around herself. "Get out..."

"Get out right now so I can get dressed."

"I’m already leaving," William said, already retreating through the doorway with both hands still raised. "I’ll be in the kitchen."

"Take your sweet time."

He pulled the door shut behind him and let out a long breath, running a hand through his own hair. Whatever the system had to say about affection and progress bars, the actual human being currently panicking in the next room over was going to need considerably more patience than any interface could account for.