The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

I sprung to my feet, heart pounding against my ribcage. "Coming!" I shouted, frantically looking around for clothes. Where did I put my—

The door swung open before I could finish the thought.

"I got bored waiting and found this movie where they—"

Sloane froze mid-sentence in my doorway, pink hair tumbling around her shoulders. She wore an oversized black t-shirt that hung off one shoulder and tiny sleep shorts that barely covered anything. The sight of her bare legs sent my brain into temporary shutdown.

She hadn’t knocked. She never knocked. Nine years of barging into each other’s rooms had eliminated that social nicety between us.

But this time was different.

This time, I was completely naked.

See, I’d just gotten out of the shower and decided air-drying was the sophisticated approach while I researched late Aspect manifestations. It hadn’t occurred to me that Sloane "Personal Boundaries Are For Other People" Fitzgerald would burst in without warning.

Our eyes met for one excruciating second before her gaze dropped lower. Much lower.

Her blue eyes widened to perfect circles. Her mouth fell open. Time stretched into an eternity as I watched realization dawn across her face.

Then she looked back up at my face. Then down again.

Then she screamed.

Not a horror-movie scream. A genuine "my brain just short-circuited" scream that probably woke up half the neighborhood.

I lunged for the closest thing I could grab—a pillow from my bed—and slammed it over my crotch.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Her face turned redder than I’d ever seen it. Small explosions popped in the air around her hands, little bursts of her Aspect firing involuntarily. "WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!"

"WHY DID YOU BARGE IN WITHOUT KNOCKING?!" I countered, clutching the pillow against me with a death grip.

"I ALWAYS BARGE IN!"

"MAYBE STOP DOING THAT!"

She slapped her hands over her eyes, but I could see her peeking through her fingers. "Put some clothes on!"

"I’m trying! You’re standing in my doorway! Move!"

She didn’t move. She just stood there, hands partially covering her face, definitely still looking.

"Sloane. Get out so I can get dressed."

"Right! Right." She backed up one step. "I’m going."

She didn’t go.

"You’re still standing there."

"I know! I’m processing!"

"Process outside!"

Another mini-explosion popped near her shoulder. "Fine! Just... hurry up!"

She slammed the door shut. I could hear her hyperventilating in the hallway.

I dropped the pillow and dove for my dresser, yanking out the first pair of boxers I could find. My hands were shaking so badly I almost tripped putting them on.

〘 Subject Sloane Fitzgerald’s Temptation Gauge has increased by 6%. Current reading: 44%. Threshold achieved: ATTACHED stage unlocked. 〙

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I hissed at the system.

〘 Would you prefer I withhold relevant progression metrics? 〙

"I’d prefer you shut up while I deal with this catastrophe!"

〘 Noted. Though metrics suggest this "catastrophe" has significantly advanced your primary objective. 〙

Great. My humiliation was apparently excellent for progression. I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt in record time, trying to process what had just happened.

Sloane had seen me naked. All of me. And based on her reaction—

Wait. The Temptation Gauge had jumped six percent? From forty-four to... forty-four?

"System, what’s Sloane’s current Gauge reading?"

〘 44%. 〙

"But you said it increased by six percent. That would put her at fifty."

〘 Correction: Her Temptation Gauge was at 38% prior to this incident. It has now reached 44%. 〙

"But it was already at—" I stopped myself as realization hit. "The gauge didn’t update after our training sessions, did it?"

〘 Correct. The Gauge updates in real-time but only displays changes when queried or during significant threshold events. 〙

"So she’s been progressing this whole time..."

〘 Also correct. Your training sessions have been remarkably effective at advancing her attachment metrics. 〙

I took a deep breath. That explained a lot about her behavior this past week. The lingering touches during training. The movie night invitation.

And now this reaction.

〘 Congratulations on achieving the ATTACHED stage with Subject Sloane Fitzgerald. New quests will now become available. 〙

"Can we deal with this later? I need to go out there and somehow make this not the most awkward moment of our lives."

〘 Query: Would you like tactical suggestions for this social scenario? 〙

"No! I mean... yes. Actually, yes."

〘 Analysis suggests two viable approaches: 1) Deflection through humor to normalize the incident, or 2) Sincere apology while avoiding direct reference to specifics. Approach 1 has higher success probability given subject’s current emotional state and your established dynamic. 〙

"Humor it is."

I opened my door to find Sloane pacing in the hallway, her face still burning red.

"So," I said, leaning against the doorframe with forced casualness, "that happened."

She stopped pacing and glared at me. "You could have warned me!"

"Warned you that I was naked in my own room? Should I put up a sign every time I shower?"

"You should lock your door like a normal person!"

"You should knock like a normal person!"

We stared each other down, neither willing to back off. Then something shifted in Sloane’s expression. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a calculating look replacing the embarrassment.

"Were you just sitting there naked on purpose?"

I blinked. "What? No! I was air drying!"

"Air drying," she repeated, clearly not buying it.

"Yes! It’s a thing people do!"

"While researching on your laptop?"

"I’m efficient!"

A dangerous smile spread across her face. "You wanted me to walk in."

"That’s—that’s insane. Why would I want that?"

"Because you’ve been acting weird all week. Different." She stepped closer, and I instinctively backed up into my room. "The training, the breakfast, the movie suggestion..."

"The movie was your idea!"

"After you put the idea in my head!"

I had no idea where this was going, but every alarm bell in my body was ringing. Sloane wasn’t embarrassed anymore. She was... something else. Something I couldn’t quite identify.

"You’re being paranoid," I said, trying to sound casual while continuing to back up as she advanced into my room.

"Am I?" Another step forward. "Because ever since our training session last week, when you..." She trailed off, clearly not wanting to reference The Ass Incident directly.

"That was an accident!"

"Was it?" She was close enough now that I could smell her shampoo. "Because you’ve been different since then. More confident. Like you’re suddenly not the same Lukas I’ve known for nine years."

Shit. She was right. I wasn’t the same Lukas. I literally wasn’t him at all. I was someone else entirely, wearing his body, using a system no one else could see.

And she’d noticed.

"People change," I said, trying to sound casual despite my racing pulse. "Maybe I’m just tired of being the Unmarked kid everyone feels sorry for."

===

〘Traore’s Thoughts〙

Hey guys, I decided to make a Power Stone Goal for this novel.

Every 200 Power Stones this week = +1 Extra Chapter. (MAX 14 ChapterS)

We can have the normal 2 Daily Chapters + 2 Extra Chapters Every Day, is all up to you ;)