The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

Chapter 271: 271 | A Roster of Future Problems

Growing up, before the transmigration event that put me in this body, I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time watching spy movies. The suave protagonist who could fight and flirt with equal skill, switching between the two without visible transition. The woman who started as an enemy and ended up pressed against him in a corridor somewhere between the second and third act. The kiss that distracted the villain long enough to complete the mission, or steal the intelligence, or activate the device they’d been carrying since the opening sequence.

Good marketing. That’s what I’d decided it was, after nine years in the Fitzgerald estate watching Diane manage hero brands for a living. Heroes were brands, according to everything I’d learned about this world. They sold merchandise.

They had sponsors who paid six figures for exclusive costume placement. They projected images that the public consumed and supported and voted for in approval ratings.

Their personas were as carefully constructed as their costumes, sometimes more so.

Why couldn’t that image include the roguish operative who used every tool at his disposal?

The charming bastard who won because he was willing to fight dirty while looking good doing it?

There was precedent. There were active heroes whose entire brand was built on charisma and unconventional tactics. I’d seen their ranking trajectories. I’d watched their sponsorship deals get announced on the networks.

The System had given me the tools. The face that came with this body. I was just using what I had.

"Absolutely not."

The voice came from my left, loud enough to carry and pointed enough to draw attention. Hiro Sato was leaning forward in his seat with an expression of genuine offense, his carefully styled hair catching the observation deck lights.

"Excuse me?"

"A hero shouldn’t be kissing villains." He gestured toward the monitors, which were currently showing the next match in progress. "It’s undignified. It’s inappropriate. It sends entirely the wrong message about professional conduct."

"It worked, didn’t it?"

"That’s not the point!"

"Pretty sure winning is exactly the point."

Hiro’s golden-tinged eyes narrowed. "A hero’s image is sacred. The costume, the presentation, the way we carry ourselves in public. You can’t just—" He made a motion that seemed to encompass everything I’d done in the last hour. "You can’t romance your opponents! That’s not a tactical approach, it’s a personal failing!"

"I didn’t romance anyone. I disrupted her concentration through unexpected physical contact."

"You put your mouth on her mouth!"

"Briefly."

"Duration doesn’t change the fundamental nature of the act!"

Several students had turned to watch our exchange. Caden was grinning again. Marco had produced a bag of chips from somewhere and was eating them like he was at a movie theater. Percy was taking notes, probably cataloging the social dynamics of public disagreement for future reference.

"Look," I said, keeping my voice level enough to sound reasonable. "She was about to shoot me in the face. I needed her to not do that. The kiss made her not do that. Mission accomplished."

"At what cost?"

"My lip, mostly. She bites."

Someone behind me made a choking sound. Hiro’s face went through several colors before settling on a shade that suggested he was questioning his entire understanding of heroic conduct.

"This conversation isn’t over," he announced, echoing Camille’s earlier declaration in a way that suggested both of them would be cornering me at various points throughout the semester.

"Looking forward to it."

Radiant cleared his throat again, and Hiro reluctantly turned back to face the monitors. The match in progress was winding down, some combination of students I hadn’t memorized yet executing what looked like a fairly standard extraction protocol.

Percy leaned close without looking up from his notebook. "You’ve made several people very upset."

"Noticed that."

"Camille’s body language suggests she’s still processing the physical contact. Her pulse was elevated when she walked past and she hasn’t made direct eye contact with anyone since entering the room."

"Thanks for that update."

"Petra’s posture indicates she’s planning some form of retaliation. Her jaw tension exceeds baseline by approximately forty percent and her fingers keep twitching toward her Aspect core."

"Also helpful."

"Felicity’s reaction was the most interesting. Her initial response was shock, but the underlying emotional tone suggested something closer to—"

"Percy."

"Yes?"

"Please stop analyzing everyone’s response to me kissing someone."

He paused, his pen hovering over the notebook. "Would you prefer I analyze their response to the incident with Petra instead?"

"I would prefer you analyze literally anything else."

"The next match features an interesting dynamic between a Branded-type defensive fighter and a Channeler with limited range applications. Their approach vectors suggest—"

"That’s better."

The afternoon continued. Matches proceeded. Students won and lost. Radiant provided commentary that managed to be educational without being boring, his natural charisma making even basic tactical principles feel like revelations.

I sat in my seat and tried not to think about the fact that I’d started my first day at Halloran Academy by making out with one classmate and dry-humping another in front of twenty witnesses and an unknown number of surveillance cameras.

The System had been suspiciously quiet since the match ended. No quest completion notifications. No Temptation Gauge updates. No snarky commentary about the compromising positions I’d found myself in.

I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

Probably bad.

Across the observation deck, Camille was pointedly not looking in my direction while simultaneously radiating enough aggressive energy to make the students near her lean away. Her two-tone hair fell across her face like a shield, hiding whatever expression she was wearing.

Petra sat with perfect posture and absolute stillness, her emerald eyes fixed on the monitors with an intensity that suggested she was memorizing every tactical detail for future use. Against me, specifically.

Felicity kept glancing my way and then looking away the moment I caught her, her cheeks going pink each time.

Rina was holding her sheep mug so tight I was worried about structural failure.

Nyx was whispering something to Maribelle that made both of them look at me with expressions I couldn’t interpret.

And somewhere in the back of the room, Lyra Osei sat in absolute stillness, her hazel-gold eyes tracking everything without revealing anything.

First day of classes.

I’d made it through exactly one combat exercise.

The semester was going to be interesting.