Harem God- Dimensional Motel System

"I only did it because I thought my husband was already dead. Shane saved me and my son before we reunited with Rick," she explained.

"Oh, so you're not even trying to hide it now. Gotta give you credit for that."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "But your logic still doesn't hold. You said that it was okay because you thought Rick was dead already, right?"

"Then what's your excuse for letting Shane fuck you again? Some kind of thank-you gift?"

Lor froze. Her throat tightened as the words hit. Beads of sweat rolled down her temple. Her legs looked unsteady.

"I didn't… I mean— He blackmailed me."

Luck raised a brow, but said nothing.

She looked down, hands trembling. "He said if I didn't let him… he would tell Rick about us. That nobody would trust me. That we would get kicked out."

Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to speak again but had to swallow hard just to get her voice back.

"I didn't want to. I tried to push him away, but… I was scared."

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "I never meant for it to happen again."

Luck let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he'd just heard the punchline of a joke.

"Ohhh… so it was Shane's fault all along." He dragged out the words like he was savoring them. "That bastard really had some nerve."

He clapped his hands once, slowly. "You should be furious with him. I mean, here you are, a loyal wife—just trying to keep your kid safe—and he goes and uses that against you? Tsk, tsk."

Lor's brows pinched together. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She didn't know whether to agree—or not.

"If I were you," he went on, still grinning, "I'd want to claw his eyes out. Maybe kick him in the balls for good measure."

Lor flinched slightly. Her hands tightened at her sides, unsure whether he was trying to comfort her or mock her.

Then he stepped back, spreading his arms slightly. "So really, none of this is on you. Poor thing. Just a victim in a bad story."

Lor stared at him. Was he serious? Or was he just playing with her ?

"What do you really want from me?" Her voice came out small, like she already feared the answer.

"I don't really need anything specific," Luck shook his head. "See, I'm your ally. I just want to help you get rid of that little thorn in your side."

"H...How?" she stammered.

"Simple. Next time he tries it again, scream for help. Make it look like he was forcing himself on you. Would be even better if both of you were naked when it happens."

Her brows pulled together. "You want me to frame him?"

"Frame him?" Luck laughed, shaking his head."You just told me he blackmailed you. So really, you'd just be telling the truth… with a few extra details added in."

He tilted his head slightly, watching her squirm.

"Or… perhaps he wasn't really blackmailing you. Maybe you just liked getting fucked by him."

She was lost for words.

"If that's the case, I can help. I'll tell Rick and your kid all about it. I'm sure they'll understand. Family's about honesty, right?"

"Please, no!" she cried, grabbing his hand.

Luck looked down at her grip, then back at her face.

"I already have a girlfriend." He smirked. "And I'm not exactly into MILFs… well, I am—but you'd have to be somewhere around fashion-model level to get my attention."

"Please… don't tell my husband. I swear, it won't happen again. I'll stay away from Shane. I'll never let it happen again."

Her grip on his hand tightened, like she was trying to hold onto whatever bit of control she had left.

"Just… please don't ruin my family."

Luck placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then it's easy."

"Just go with my plan." His fingers stayed on her shoulder, grounding her—reminding her who held the power now.

"I want Shane out of my base. And if you help me do that, your little secret stays buried. That's a win for both of us, don't you think?"

"W...What will happen to him?" she asked.

Luck gave a shrug, like it didn't really matter. "He'll be kicked out. Nothing dramatic."

"But he won't survive long out there," she gasped, the panic rising in her voice.

"What happens to him after that… that's not really my concern. And who knows? Maybe he'll charm his way into another community right away."

It was obvious she didn't want this.

But she had no choice. It was either go along with the plan—or watch him destroy her life.

"Tonight," she said quietly, barely lifting her head. "He told me to meet him at 2:00 a.m."

"Good," Luck replied with a satisfied nod.

"Make sure it looks like he's really doing it—midway, clothes off, everything. That way, he won't have any chance to defend himself."

He gave her a crooked smile. "And don't worry... I'll be your eyewitness. You just play your part.

Once that was settled, he left her on her own.

There was no need to watch her closely. If she wanted to stay here and keep her family safe, turning against him would a dumb idea.

She knew that. And so did he.

Hours passed, and he spent the time training Jun.

Once the skill was at five, the plan was to use points to push the young man forward—let the kid soar in one leap instead of crawling his way up.

Jun sat cross-legged in the middle of the open lot behind the motel, eyes half-closed, arms resting on his knees.

His posture was stiff, his breathing uneven.

Luck stood a few steps away. "You're thinking too much,"

Jun opened one eye. "I'm trying not to."

"That's the problem. Don't try. Just breathe."

Jun let out a slow breath, a little too dramatic.

"Not like that." Luck walked over and crouched in front of him. "In through the nose. Hold. Out through the mouth. Slow and steady. Like you're doing it in your sleep."

Jun nodded and tried again. Slower this time.

"Good. Now focus on the flow inside your body," Luck said. "Not your thoughts. Not your surroundings. Just the energy in your abdomen. It's there—you just don't know how to notice it yet."

Jun furrowed his brows. "I don't feel anything."

"You won't—at first," Luck replied. "Your mind's too noisy. You need to let it go quiet. That's when it'll show itself."

Jun adjusted his position slightly. His shoulders relaxed a bit more.

"Keep going. Two hours, no moving, no talking."

As Luck walked away from the training spot, Dima and a few others who had been watching from a distance approached him.

"Hey, Boss," Dima open his mouth, "what you're teaching Jun—can we learn it too?"

The others nodded eagerly behind him.

Luck stopped and looked over the group. "It's not that simple. Only a few people have the aptitude for this kind of training. It's not something you can force."

Dima frowned. "So... it's like a talent thing?"

Luck gave a short nod. "Exactly. You either have it or you don't. And right now, only Jun's got it."

The group went quiet, the excitement in their eyes fading just a bit.

"Doesn't mean you're useless," Luck added. "You just have to focus on the kind of strength that works for you."

Then he walked off, leaving them to process it.

Back in the motel.

No cooling off. No rest.

He went straight to the corner, adjusted the weights, this time heavier than before, then dropped to the floor.

Push-ups first. Fast, tight, controlled. Each one hit harder than the last, arms burning as he powered through them.

Then sit-ups. Curl-ups. Leg raises. No pauses.

His breath grew heavier, body soaked in sweat, muscles screaming—but he didn't stop. The more it hurt, the more it meant he was pushing past his limits.

Every motion dragged him closer to the breakthrough.

But it still eluded him.

'What am I missing?' he muttered under his breath, staring up at the stained ceiling.

His mind drifted back to the one who created the Demonic Giant Body.

He was sure he already received the enlightenment behind the technique.

Which meant the problem wasn't knowledge.

Luck sat up, arms resting on his knees, sweat dripping from his chin. 'Could it be… a lack of life-and-death experience?'

It made sense. The original creator didn't just build the technique through training.

That kind of power was forged under pressure—shaped by near-death moments, real stakes, blood, and desperation.

Although he fought his own dangerous battles, none of them ever pushed him to the edge of death.

He was too talented. And maybe that was the problem.

'Does this mean I need to hold back... a lot?'

One way to truly feel the threat of death was to severely increase the weight of his gear—slowing him down so much that every move had to be extra careful, or it could cost him.

'Alright, I'll try that. If it gets too dangerous, I can always dial the weight back later.'

Night came again, and the number of mutated variants had climbed into double digits—they were becoming common now.

Luck fought them, and everyone noticed something was off.

He was breathing harder than usual, and his movements were slower.

Even Kana stepped in, ready to back him up.

But he waved her off.

"I'm fine," he said between breaths. "Just trying a new way to train myself."