Charles gave an awkward smile and walked further in with her. With so many people and ears around, he didn’t rush to speak openly, letting Porter keep her arm around his shoulder as they ascended the stairs.
This was also his first time inside the Amazon Fisheries Company. The game had shown only a few rough images—not enough for comparison.
Now, seeing it in person, the scale was even larger than he’d imagined. Marble tiles stretched across the floor, the walls painted white—looking, in fact, almost indistinguishable from his previous life.
Finally, they reached Porter’s old nest, the Intelligence Division on the third floor. Right in front of all the staff, Porter dragged him into her private lounge, triggering an outburst of whistles and laughter across the spacious office.
Charles, of course, immediately understood why they laughed. Fact was, this tiny room contained just a single bed, and when a predatory Amazon dragged him in alone, it looked like she meant to devour him whole.
And by the look of her, that was precisely her intention. She released Charles, locked the door, and began unbuttoning her jacket, as if she would pounce in the next moment.
Charles had to quickly grab her wrist. "Hold on, Porter, I came to you with serious business."
Porter paused, giving him a once-over. "You’d better have something worthwhile, or my sisters out there"—she thumbed the door—"are desperately bored right now."
The implication being, if his excuse wasn’t good enough, what waited for him was a round of orgies far beyond last time—and this time, he hadn’t even preloaded on protein.
Of course, after his recent attribute boost, who knew who would come out on top.
Charles truly had no such intentions. He drew Porter to sit with him on the bed, turned serious. "Porter, answer me honestly. Have you considered—taking your people to the slums to save lives?"
Porter blinked. "Save lives?"
"The victims!" Charles insisted. "After the earthquake, you might be fine, but what about all the dilapidated houses in the slums? With this rain, how many people will be in disaster?"
"If you gather your subordinates now to save lives in the slums, what a glorious deed that would be! You’d become the hero of the South Harbor District!"
She gave a short laugh. "And what’s the use? Hoping those people will be grateful, or that the District Office will give us a little award for bravery?"
The Amazons and the locals of the South Harbor District had long been sworn enemies: going back, whether as pirates or in war with the Empire of Sein, there had always been bitter conflict; more recently, their company had seized much of the fishing rights, making them a source of local poverty.
Given all that, even if they helped, the poor probably wouldn’t thank them.
And as for official praise?
The company and the corrupt bureaucracy were already in bed together; who needed more of that?
So, Porter had no great interest.
Fortunately, Charles had come prepared.
He took a deep breath, turned grave. "Whether the poor thank you is irrelevant. What matters is that you’ve done it."
"Right now the entire South Harbor District might be yours—but are you satisfied with just a poor district?"
His gaze was sharp, fixed on Porter. "In the future, your company will want to list on the central market, yes?"
"To win favorable policy support, you’ll need your own lawmakers behind you, right?"
"And it would be best if that lawmaker was from your own people? And their seat should be in the South Harbor District, naturally?"
"And someday, when you need to run a rigged election, how will you explain to anyone’s satisfaction that an Amazon could command such massive support here? How will you convince the people below not to riot, and those above to turn a blind eye?"
He peppered her with questions, guiding her thoughts. Porter fell into contemplation, and Charles struck his thigh. "Disaster hero! You need evidence—hard, irrefutable deeds!"
"That’s the only way anyone will buy it, right?"
"Porter, look at the long game! This plan is all benefit, no downside, isn’t it?"
He knew the Amazons’ future ambitions, and every word hit her core concerns. She regarded him for a long moment, then smirked. "Good speech... I’ll admit, you make an excellent case."
She hesitated, but pressed on. "But I have a question, Charles."
She looked him dead in the eye. "Why are you doing this?"
Charles fell silent for a while, then drew a slow breath. "I heard the voice of the goddess."
Porter held his gaze a long time, while Charles dropped his eyes, unwilling to meet her stare.
Finally, she let out a long sigh. "With how you act, you’re bound to meet hardship someday."
With that, she stood, walked to the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open.
Every agent in Intelligence Division turned to look, faces shocked and uncertain. "Director, that was quick?"
"Call it skill," Porter snapped back with a roll of her eyes. Then her voice turned crisp: "Warriors, assemble!"
"Grab your gear—we’re saving lives!"
For this operation, the Amazon women brought all manner of tools: rafts, life jackets, lifebuoys, luminous pearls for illumination, even magical loudspeakers.
True, electric lamps might have been cheaper, but with the risk of shock in this storm, Porter—now determined to do things properly—wouldn’t allow it.
The group quickly assembled, Charles alongside them. Everything seemed fine until...
Why on earth wear swimsuits beneath the life jackets!?
He had no answer. All around him, the girls now wore nothing but a single, skin-tight black swimsuit, compressing their powerful chests to near-flatness, all the former curves vanished.
Yet their sturdy arms, sumptuous thighs, and even their rounded, athletic hips were all bared, leaving Charles dizzy-eyed.
Sure, it was practical wear for aquatic rescue, but...
Studying these barely dressed female warriors, Charles felt deeply complicated—truly cold on their behalf.
Porter noticed, and with a corner-of-the-mouth smirk, strode over, put him in a headlock, and mashed his face against her chest. "What’s wrong? Feel a sudden surge of lust?"
Charles awkwardly shook his head. "No, uh... Aren’t you cold? It’s winter—going out is basically a polar plunge!"
"Not at all," Porter replied. "One of an Amazon warrior’s rituals from childhood is winter sea swimming and fishing. If you can’t do that, you deserve to freeze."
Charles felt genuine pity for those Amazons who had perished, then straightened. "So—are we off?"
Porter looked surprised. "You’re going too? Just a warning—the winter sea is nothing you little men can handle, without special training."
Charles shook his head. "No worries—I have spells."
He added, "Besides, I’m the one who persuaded both you and my monastery’s nuns to do this. If I let everyone else go while I hide in safety, what kind of person would that make me?"
Porter gave a slight smile. "You could always say your colleagues went, so it’s as if you went, too."
Charles smiled back. "That would be a disgrace to them."
He pulled on his raincloak. "Let’s go save people."
"You’re not changing into a life vest?"
"No need," he said, "I’ve got spells!"
And so, without stopping to change—mainly to avoid giving those mischievous women a chance to tease and delay—he plunged out into the storm.
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