The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

She was right. For the first time since entering the gym, I wasn’t thinking about Diane. Wasn’t replaying last night in my head. Wasn’t comparing the two women or wondering what the hell I was going to do about any of this.

I was just fighting. Just training. Just trying to improve, to get stronger, to become whatever it was I needed to become to survive in this world of Aspects and heroes and systems that demanded more than I ever thought I could give.

Sloane came at me with a flurry of punches, and I blocked three before the fourth caught me on the jaw, sending me stumbling backward. But I didn’t fall this time. I stayed on my feet, recovered my balance, and countered with a sweep aimed at her ankles.

She jumped over it easily, but her grin widened. "Now we’re getting somewhere!"

For the next hour, we trained. Really trained. No distractions, no System notifications, no thoughts of Diane or last night or the tangled mess I’d created. Just the rhythm of combat, the burn of exertion, the satisfaction of small improvements.

By the end, I was drenched in sweat, my muscles screaming, my lungs on fire. But I felt more alive than I had all morning. More present. More me.

Whoever the fuck that was anymore.

"Not bad," Sloane said as we finished, tossing me a towel. "You’re actually improving. Your stance is better, your reactions are faster, and you’re not dropping your guard as much."

"Thanks to you," I said, wiping sweat from my face.

She smiled, a genuine smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta whip you into shape before Halloran."

I nodded, suddenly grateful for her—not for her body or her Temptation Gauge or whatever rewards the System might give me for manipulating her. Just for her. For Sloane Fitzgerald, who believed in me when I gave her no reason to, who pushed me to be better even when she thought I had no chance.

"Hey," I said softly. "Thanks. For all of this. For believing I could do it."

She blinked, surprised by the sincerity in my voice. "Don’t get soft on me now, Belmont. We’ve got a long way to go before you’re ready."

"I know." I stepped closer, dropping the towel. "But still. Thank you."

I kissed her again, gentler this time. Not because the System wanted me to. Not because it would increase her Temptation Gauge or give me stats or help me pass Halloran.

Because I wanted to. Because under all the manipulation and schemes and bullshit quests, there was something real between us. Something that had been building for nine years, long before I arrived in this body.

When I pulled back, her eyes were soft, searching mine. "What was that for?"

"Just felt right," I said.

She smiled, a small, private smile I’d never seen before. "Yeah. It did."

For a moment, everything else faded away. The System. The quests. Diane. Halloran. All the complications I’d created.

It was just us.

The shower washed away two hours of sweat, pain, and embarrassment. I stood under the spray, letting the hot water soothe muscles that still ached from last night’s marathon with Diane and this morning’s beatdown from Sloane.

My life had turned into a bad pornhwa. The kind where the protagonist suddenly gets surrounded by women and has no idea why. Except I knew exactly why—the Scumbag System wanted me to fuck my way to superpowers.

And I was letting it happen.

"You’re disgusting," I told my reflection in the fogged mirror as I toweled off. My hair stuck up in wet spikes. The scar through my left eyebrow looked darker when my face was flushed. "Absolutely disgusting."

The reflection didn’t argue. Smart guy.

I pulled on clean clothes—jeans and a black t-shirt, nothing fancy—and headed out into the hallway. Sloane’s shower was still running in the bathroom across the hall. The thought of her naked under the spray made something twist low in my stomach.

The memory of her mother in the same position last night immediately followed.

"Fuck," I muttered, shaking my head like I could physically dislodge the thought.

〘You appear distressed. Current cortisol levels suggest emotional conflict regarding your sexual activities with Diane Fitzgerald and your developing relationship with Sloane Fitzgerald. Would you like advice on managing multiple partners?〙

"I’d like you to shut up forever," I hissed. "Or maybe just give me abilities without making me seduce women I’ve known since I was eight."

〘Request noted and ignored. System functioning as designed.〙

"Of course it is." I headed downstairs to the kitchen, desperate for water and food. Training with Sloane had been brutal, even with my enhanced stamina and stats.

I was halfway through a protein shake when Sloane appeared in the doorway. Her hair was damp, falling in pink waves around her shoulders. She wore shorts that showed off her legs and an oversized t-shirt with some band logo I didn’t recognize.

"You look like you got hit by a truck," she said, but her eyes lingered on my arms, my chest, places that suggested she didn’t mind the view.

"Weird way to describe your handiwork, but okay." I took another swig of my shake. "You knocked me down what, six times? Seven?"

"Eight." She smirked. "You’re getting better though. Only fell on your ass eight times instead of twelve."

She moved into the kitchen but didn’t head straight for the fridge like usual. Instead, she hovered near the counter, picking at her nails, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Sloane Fitzgerald, nervous? That was new.

"What’s up?" I asked. "You’re doing that thing with your hands."

"What thing?" She immediately stopped fidgeting.

"The thing where you can’t keep still. Like you want to say something but don’t know how."

"That’s not—I don’t—" She huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "Shut up."

The Oracle Feed sparked to life in my vision.

〘Subject: SLOANE FITZGERALD

Current emotional state: Nervous, excited, conflicted

Temptation Gauge: 64% (↑2%)

Analysis: Subject wants to extend social interaction beyond training context but struggles with direct invitation due to uncertainty about relationship status〙

Well damn. Was Sloane trying to ask me out?

I set down my shake and leaned against the counter, waiting. The silence stretched between us, comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

"So," she finally said, "what are you doing today? This afternoon, I mean."

"Nothing specific. Might work on my Aspect control. Maybe read up on Halloran entry requirements."

"Right. Cool." She nodded too many times. "That sounds... productive."

Another silence.

"Why?" I prompted, deciding to throw her a lifeline.

"No reason." Her cheeks flushed pink. "Just wondering."

〘Subject is attempting to engineer social proximity. Current success probability: 32%. Recommended action: Direct invitation with casual framing to reduce pressure〙

For once, the System’s advice didn’t sound terrible.

"You want to do something?" I asked.

The relief on her face was almost comical. "I’m not saying I want to hang out with you or anything. But there’s a new arcade downtown that’s supposed to have good food, and I thought maybe we could check it out. For research purposes."

"Research purposes," I repeated, fighting a smile.

"Yeah." She crossed her arms, defiant. "To test your reaction speed. For training."

"Ah. Training. At an arcade. With food."

"Exactly." Her blush deepened. "So do you want to go or not? Because I don’t care either way."

"Yeah," I said. "Let’s go. For research purposes."