The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

Eight percent from telling her she had a good Aspect and meaning it. This wasn’t manipulation anymore, this was just basic human decency that her previous environment had apparently failed to provide. Which made me want to find whoever had been in charge of her combat assessments and have a conversation about recognizing tactical value when it’s sitting right in front of them. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

"Where did you train before this?" I asked.

"Saint Catherine’s Academy in Portland. It’s a private preparatory school for Aspect-bearing students. Very prestigious, very competitive." She said this like she was reciting from a brochure, then added more quietly, "Very focused on offensive capabilities and combat rankings."

Of course it was. Some fancy private academy that probably measured success by how many buildings you could level per minute and considered anything that didn’t explode on contact to be a waste of genetic potential.

"Let me guess," I said. "They had you filed under support roles and told you to focus on rescue operations instead of direct engagement."

Her expression went through several changes. Surprise that I’d guessed correctly. Something that looked like relief at being understood. Then something sadder, like disappointment that wasn’t fresh anymore because she’d had time to get used to it.

"Support and rescue, yes. With an emphasis on civilian comfort during crisis situations. Which is important work," she added quickly, because of course she did. "I’m not complaining about that placement, it’s just. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be considered for frontline tactical applications."

"You should have been considered for psychological warfare applications," I said flatly. "An Aspect that can shut down hostile intent without permanent damage? That’s not support, that’s strategic deployment. The military would kill for that capability."

She blinked at me. Then blinked again. Her mouth opened slightly, like she was about to say something, then closed. Her tail curled tighter against her thigh and she looked down at her hands for a moment before looking back up at me with an expression I couldn’t immediately read.

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

"But I’m not. I mean, I’m not particularly brave or aggressive or any of the qualities you need for frontline deployment. I get nervous in crowds, I apologize too much, I’d probably freeze up if someone was actually shooting at me." She said this like she was listing objective facts that disqualified her from serious consideration rather than normal human responses to combat stress that half the Heroes in the field struggle with.

"Brave isn’t a requirement," I said. "Smart is. And you’re smart enough to understand tactical applications for an Aspect that most people would write off as ’nice.’ That’s not a support mindset, that’s strategic thinking."

Her face flushed deeper, the pink spreading down her neck and disappearing under the collar of her cream sweater. She looked at me for a long moment, processing, and I could practically see her internal model of herself getting recalibrated in real time.

"I. Thank you. I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as having strategic thinking before."

"Then they weren’t paying attention either."

She laughed. Quiet, surprised, but genuine. Not the nervous sound from earlier when she was apologizing for existing, but actual amusement at something I’d said. The sound hit me somewhere in the chest with unexpected warmth, and her tail did that curling motion again, the fluffy white tip settling more securely against her leg.

〘 Temptation Gauge Update: Rina Soleil.

Current status: 12%.

Stage: Neutral (Elevated).

Recent modifier: Sustained validation, intellectual respect, genuine laughter triggered.

Analysis: Subject responding positively to being seen as strategically valuable rather than just ’nice.’ Emotional barriers lowering. Recommend continued intellectual engagement.〙

Twelve percent. From one conversation about her Aspect and treating her like she had a brain. This girl had been so starved for basic respect that acknowledging her intelligence counted as romantic progress, which was both encouraging for my quest objectives and depressing as hell from a human perspective.

The front door opened again, saving me from having to examine that thought too closely. A facilities worker entered carrying a clipboard and looking harassed, followed by someone’s parents having a heated whispered argument about packing lists and whether their daughter had enough blankets. The quiet moment Rina and I had been sharing evaporated as the common room filled with other voices and movement.

She immediately tensed, her shoulders pulling up toward her ears and her hands folding back into that careful protective position in her lap. The tail tucked closer to her body, and her purple eyes darted toward the elevator bank like she was calculating escape routes.

"I should probably go upstairs," she said quietly. "Get settled in my room before. Before more people arrive."

"Probably smart," I agreed, because pushing her to stay when she was clearly uncomfortable would undo whatever progress we’d made. "But Rina?"

She paused, looking back at me with those wide purple eyes.

"If you want to test some of those tactical applications we talked about, let me know. I’d be interested in seeing how your Aspect works in actual scenarios."

Her face went through that rapid emotional cycling again. Surprise, consideration, something that looked like hope, then uncertainty.

"You’d want to spar with me? Even though my Aspect isn’t. Combat-focused?"

"Especially because it’s not combat-focused," I said. "Most interesting tactical problems involve unconventional solutions."

She smiled. Small, tentative, but real. The first genuine smile I’d seen from her since she walked through the door, and it transformed her entire face from apologetic anxiety to something softer and considerably more dangerous to my emotional stability.

"I’d like that," she said. "I’d really like that."

She picked up her duffel and headed toward the elevator, moving with less of that careful minimization from earlier. Not confident, exactly, but less afraid of taking up space. Her tail swished once as she walked, and she glanced back at me before the elevator doors closed.

Alone in the common room with facilities workers and arguing parents, I pulled out my phone and found three more messages from Sloane, each one escalating in both capitalization and creative threats about what would happen if I didn’t visit her tonight to properly test the structural integrity of her new mattress.

But underneath the familiar warmth of Sloane’s aggressive flirtation, something else sat in my chest. The memory of Rina Soleil’s face when I’d told her she had strategic thinking. The way her tail had curled when she laughed. The quiet intensity in her purple eyes when she’d said she’d really like to spar with me.

Twelve percent Temptation Gauge from one conversation where I’d treated her like she mattered.

Jesus Christ, I was going to hell for this.

But at least the System was happy about it.

〘 Quest Update: First Step To Harem King.

Progress: 1/3 heroines contacted (Rina Soleil - 12% Temptation Gauge established).

Time remaining: 6 days, 14 hours.

Bonus objective progress: Potential rival/threat assessment developing with Petra Lang (Room 301).

Note: Recommend continued cultivation of Rina Soleil relationship. Subject demonstrates high responsiveness to validation and intellectual respect. Strategic value recognized.〙

One down, two to go. And somewhere upstairs, a girl with ram horns and a rabbit heart was probably unpacking her belongings and thinking about someone who’d called her strategic for the first time in her life.

I was definitely going to hell.

But first, I had a girlfriend’s mattress to test and two more heroines to identify before Friday. The building was filling up with dangerous, powerful women who were used to being the smartest person in every room, and I had a System that required me to make at least three of them think about me in ways that had nothing to do with academics.

Time to get to work.