Looking at Kaoru's trembling form, Chuck—who had been slightly hesitant—finally made his decision. At the end of the day, even if she had been a manipulative "gal" back in the world, Kaoru was just an eighteen-year-old girl. He had punished her enough. After losing her worthless pride, the current Kaoru was nothing more than a fragile girl seeking shelter under his protection.
"Do you remember what I said yesterday?"
"..." Hearing Chuck speak, Kaoru looked up blankly, her fearful eyes finally meeting his. "W-what did you say?"
"Think about it."
Kaoru froze, and without needing much time, she whispered cautiously, "Mr. Chuck said... that as long as I was a good girl... you would... be good to me."
As she finished, a faint blush crept back onto her cheeks. Her expression held a tiny spark of joy—as if Chuck's casual promise had become a light in her darkness, the very motivation she needed to keep living.
Even as the architect of her current state, Chuck couldn't help but feel a bit of sentiment. He recalled a psychological concept: when a person is in a dangerous situation, they often develop a morbid dependency or even empathy toward the person dominating or hurting them. It wasn't just "madness"; it was a primal survival instinct. Chuck hadn't technically "forced" her into anything—she had made the choice to trade her body and dignity for survival.
But the result was clear: Kaoru had developed a deep, psychological dependency on him. In short, she was "broken in" perfectly.
Looking down at the girl's submissive, nervous face, Chuck felt a wave of genuine affection. He reached out and stroked her smooth, supple cheek.
"From now on, eat at the table. Sleep on the bed." He paused, his voice dropping an octave. "But never forget—this is a reward you only keep by being a good girl."
His words were still laced with a warning, but they finally carried a hint of tenderness. Without another word, Chuck turned and sat back down at the dinner table.
Kaoru stood there alone, staring at his back. Her face grew redder, and tears finally spilled over. But even as she cried, she did exactly what she had done during her ordeal the night before: she clamped her hand over her mouth. To avoid disturbing anyone else, she only allowed muffled, rhythmic sobs to escape.
Meanwhile, a new system notification appeared before Chuck's eyes:
[Notice: Companion detected...] Name: Kaoru Age: 18 Stats: Beauty 9.2/10, Measurements 88/57/90, Romantic History: 0 (Virgin) Comprehensive Rating: 9.5! [Perfect Match! Trust System Activated!] Current Trust: 68 (Devotion/Affection) [Congratulations! Your companion Kaoru's trust has exceeded 50 points! Workbench Task Queue +1!]
Starting at 68? Even though he expected a high number, Chuck was still shocked. Such a high initial trust score proved Kaoru's absolute loyalty. It further confirmed his theory: people—especially women—could be domesticated.
Chuck shook his head with a smile and began to eat. Most of the women didn't notice the exchange, or if they did, they didn't care. Only Janet, the red-haired Amazonian, looked at Kaoru sobbing in the corner and then at her niece, Julia.
"Jules, why is that girl crying?"
Julia glanced over while chewing and shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe she ate something bad."
A Halberd (Ji), being a polearm, needed more than just a head; it needed a shaft.
The shaft didn't just need to be long; it needed to be incredibly tough and resilient—flexible enough to withstand Chuck's heavy swings or the head-on charge of a black bear without snapping. Chuck sifted through the storage room and picked the best piece of redwood he had. It was dark, thick, long, and felt perfect in his hands.
But the shaft couldn't just be a wooden stick. The connection point between the head and the shaft had to be seamless and tight. If the fit wasn't perfect, the head might fly off during a swing—a fatal embarrassment in a fight.
The new DIY feature solved this. Since he could design the head, he could design a custom mounting bracket for the shaft.
Two hours later, after smelting the ore and letting the mold set, a gleaming, pale-gold bronze halberd was assembled. The head was a Fangtian style—a central spear point with crescent blades on both sides. It was heavy, requiring two units of clay for the mold. To balance the weight, Chuck made the redwood shaft nearly two meters long, bringing the total length of the weapon to 2.5 meters.
Holding it felt empowering. Eager to test it, he took the weapon up to the stone beach. Under the cool afternoon sun, Chuck swung the halberd with wide, powerful movements. Stabbing, slicing, hooking, and parrying—the more he used it, the more natural it felt.
He finally slammed the butt of the weapon into the sand, exhaling deeply. It was heavy, but the lethality was on a completely different level than his old tusk spear. The spear that had served him so well was finally retired.
With the weapon done, it was time for armor. He didn't need a full suit of plate mail, but he needed to protect his vitals to give him a margin of error against a bear. He needed it light but sturdy.
He spent the rest of the afternoon gathering ore, redwood, and clay. By the time evening approached, he returned to the platform.
By the outdoor fire, Elena was bent over, her voluptuous ass jutting out as she stirred a pot of mutton soup. The scent of roasted taro and pancakes filled the air. As Chuck passed her, he couldn't help but give that soft, massive rear a firm squeeze. Elena let out a soft gasp and turned her head, her eyes full of mature, sultry affection.
He set his materials in the storage room and went to the water tower to wash up. But as he turned the bamboo valve, a rhythmic sound caught his attention.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Chuck walked to the edge of the platform and froze.
Down below, a row of wooden stakes was being driven into the moist jungle soil with the back of a bronze axe. Janet, the red-haired aunt, was building a fence around the garden Julia had planted.
She worked with a clean, efficient rhythm. She would drive a stake, shake it to test its stability, then grab another sharpened one from a pile nearby. She was using the hardwood Chuck had stacked outside the cabin, splitting and sharpening them herself.
Chuck watched, impressed. This was a massive amount of manual labor, and she was doing it with the ease of a pro.
Janet drove another stake, wiped her brow, and looked up to see Chuck watching her.
"Hey! Chuck!" she called out with a grin. She raised the axe and pointed to the pile of wood, then gave him a thumbs-up. She was asking for permission to use his materials.
Chuck smiled and returned the "OK" sign. He didn't mind at all. She was working for the "family" and not just eating for free.
Suddenly, a familiar scent drifted into his nose, and a soft body pressed against his arm. "Darling~" Julia clung to him like a piece of candy.
Chuck wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "What did she do for a living back home? Was she a carpenter?"
"Hehe, she's impressive, right?" Julia leaned her head on his shoulder. "My aunt inherited my grandfather's ranch. She ran it until he passed away and the business failed. Then she sold the cattle and the land, moved to our town, and became a long-haul truck driver."
"What?" Chuck's eyes widened. A rancher and a trucker? Those were "man's jobs." It explained her calloused hands and her incredible stamina.
He looked down at her again. Janet's red hair was soaked with sweat, sticking to her forehead. Her tracksuit was unzipped slightly, revealing a damp undershirt stretched over her massive chest. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned, powerful forearms. Every time she swung the axe, her body moved with a rhythmic, feminine power that was incredibly erotic. She was a "Heavy Duty" luxury woman.
Julia noticed his gaze and smirked. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "So, Darling... do you want to fuck Aunt Janet?"
Chuck didn't look away. He met Julia's teasing eyes and didn't bother lying. "Pretty much. Yeah."
"Well, you better be prepared," Julia giggled. "Aunt Janet isn't easy to handle. She's 'independent' in every sense of the word."
Chuck wasn't surprised. A woman like Janet didn't "need" a man. He reached out and tapped Julia's nose. "If she's hard to handle, can I handle you first, you little slut?"
"Hmph, I'm hard to handle too!" Julia puffed out her chest, her large, bouncy breasts jiggling like jelly.
The sight sent a jolt of heat to Chuck's groin. He grabbed her perky ass, hoisted her up, and wrapped her legs around his waist. "Then I'll just have to be extra rough."
Julia squealed, her face flushing crimson, but she expertly locked her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. "Ah! Right now?! Dinner is almost ready... can't we wait until after?"
"No," Chuck replied simply, walking toward the bed inside.
Ten minutes later, as the sky darkened, a exhausted Janet finally walked up to the stone platform. She rubbed her sore shoulders, a satisfied smile on her face. "Haven't done labor like that in a while. Feels good."
Despite being forced into ranching, she realized she missed the days of shoveling manure and swinging hammers. As the scent of mutton soup hit her, her stomach growled. She walked toward the cabin door, eager for a meal.
"Jules! I'm back!"
But the moment she pushed the door open and stepped inside, a scene she never expected hit her full-force.
"YES! FUCK ME! FUCK ME, OHHHH MY GOD!!"