My Scumbag System - Chapter 117

Chapter 117: My Opening Line is a Declaration of War
I glided away from Valerie Kwan with a polite smile, navigating through the crowd toward the refreshment area. The massive crystal punchbowl sat like some ancient artifact on a pedestal of black marble, filled with a bubbling, glittering concoction that was the most hideous shade of pink I had ever seen. It looked like someone liquefied a unicorn and added sparkles.

Who decided on bubblegum pink with actual fucking glitter in it? Was this a high-society gala or a twelve-year-old’s birthday party?

I ladled some of the atrocity into a delicate flute glass, grimacing internally. The liquid caught the light from the holographic displays overhead, sending tiny rainbow reflections dancing across my hand. The air around me smelled like expensive wood and something almost electrical—ozone, maybe—scrubbed clean of any human scent. The background music wasn’t really music at all, just a low, rhythmic hum designed to fill the space without distracting from the real business happening in every conversation.

I leaned against a cool marble pillar, taking a cautious sip. Sweet. Tooth-achingly, sickeningly sweet, with an artificial aftertaste that lingered on the tongue. Perfect for this place.

From my vantage point, I could observe without being observed. That was the beauty of being a nobody in a room full of somebodies—I was functionally invisible. Not a threat, not a peer, not even interesting enough to warrant a second glance. I was background furniture.

Valerie’s words echoed in my mind. “Same eyes.” A connection to Kenji Nakano, the ghost hanging over this feast. What exactly did she see in my face? What did my father leave behind in me that others could recognize?

Across the room, Celeste Vance stood in her sister’s shadow, a porcelain doll surrounded by predators. Unlike Seraphina, whose white hair fell straight and severe, Celeste’s cascaded in gentle waves down her back. Her eyes—soft periwinkle blue rather than her sister’s icy stare—darted around the room with barely concealed curiosity. She was beautiful in a way that seemed almost fragile, though I suspected that was deliberate misdirection.

She was the key. Not just to the VHC archives but to understanding Seraphina. To get to the queen, first you must befriend the princess.

My fingers brushed against the inner lining of my jacket, feeling the cool metal of the Liar’s Brooch pinned discreetly inside. My secret blade in a room where everyone else brandished swords.

Three young men approached the punchbowl, moving with the affected swagger of those trying desperately to look like they belonged. Senior students from NVA, judging by their age and the academy pins on their lapels. They didn’t spare me a single glance as they served themselves, talking freely as if I were just another piece of the decor.

“Can you believe Valerius?” said the tallest one, his voice dripping with amused contempt. He wore a small Aegis Prime recruitment pin that he kept touching, as if to remind himself it was real. “He actually tried to offer Reyna Cabana a ‘sponsorship opportunity’ from his father’s corporation.”

His friend, shorter with glasses that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, snickered. “I heard! My cousin works as a junior PR rep at Olympus Rising. Said Reyna told him she’d rather get sponsored by a particularly aggressive brand of toilet cleaner. Then she asked if his Aspect was ‘Conjuring Daddy’s Money.'”

The third student, thin and serious-looking, shook his head. “She’s a spitfire, but he’s not wrong about the money. Vance-Ishiguro Tech is about to launch a new line of mana-tech batteries. Julian’s family is going to be richer than most minor nations by this time next year.”

I kept my gaze fixed on the crowd, sipping my horrible punch, while my brain cataloged every detail. Julian Valerius. Rich, entitled, recently humiliated by Reyna Cabana. His family was connected to Vance-Ishiguro Tech—the same company my father worked for before his disappearance. The connection couldn’t be coincidental.

Perfect. A wounded animal with a bruised ego was both predictable and dangerous. And “humiliate an arrogant Scion” was exactly what my quest required.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a ripple moved through the crowd, and Julian Valerius appeared with his entourage. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with artfully styled blond hair and a face that belonged in recruitment posters. His midnight blue suit looked custom-tailored to emphasize his athletic build, probably costing more than Luka made in a month. He moved with the easy confidence of someone who had never had to doubt his place in the world.

Two young men flanked him like remoras attached to a shark, laughing too loudly at something he had said. Behind them trailed a third, carrying what appeared to be a portfolio of some kind—a personal assistant, perhaps.

“Don’t even worry about Cabana, Julian,” said the one on his left, a redhead with freckles across his nose. “She’s just playing hard to get. A woman with her ambition knows she needs a partner with real capital. She’ll come crawling once your father’s new line launches.”

The other one nodded eagerly. “Exactly! You’ll create the most powerful guild in history. The Valerius name, the Vance connection through marriage, and the Cabana sisters’ star power? Unstoppable. You’ll have Reyna and Celeste Vance as your main wives, forging the ultimate dynasty.”

Main wives? Jesus Christ, these people.

Julian’s mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk. “You’re right. Reyna’s just playing the game. She knows where her future lies.” He strode directly to the refreshment table, cutting in front of me as if I didn’t exist. His shoulder bumped mine as he reached for a bottle of sparkling water.

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t even look at me. I was less than furniture to him—I was air.

I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. I took another slow, deliberate sip of my disgusting punch and met his eyes in the reflection of the crystal punchbowl. For a split second, our gazes locked. He saw nothing—a zero, a nobody, beneath his notice. I saw everything—my target, ripe for destruction.

Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly, registering a flicker of annoyance at my audacity to look directly at him. He scoffed and turned his back, rejoining his circle of sycophants.

I allowed a slow, cold smile to touch my lips. Plan set.

I counted to ten, giving them a head start, then followed at a casual distance. Julian’s group had found a prime spot near the central fountain, where the light caught them at the most flattering angles. The acoustics in this part of the room were perfect—conversation carried just far enough.

“—father says the partnership with Vance is practically guaranteed,” Julian was saying. “This mana-tech battery line is going to revolutionize the industry. Even S-Ranks will be begging for our tech.”

“And Seraphina Vance? Is she on board?”

Julian waved a dismissive hand. “My father handles her. He knows how to manage difficult women.”

I waited for a momentary lull in their self-congratulation, then caught the eye of a passing waiter. When I spoke, my voice was perfectly pitched.

“Excuse me, a quick question about the punch.” I gestured with my glass. “Is it made with real fruit juice? It has this strange, synthetic aftertaste. Almost as artificial as some of the pedigrees in this room.”