My Scumbag System - Chapter 133

Chapter 133: The Stray Dog of NVA Finds Out He Has a Fan Club
I stood frozen at the entrance to the living room, watching Emi hold up her expensive-looking pastry box.

What the hell was “Oppappi” supposed to mean?

“Oppappi?” I asked. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that one.”

Emi’s cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, her reddish-brown eyes darting away in embarrassment. “Oh! It’s from this streamer! It stands for ‘Ocean Pacific Peace!’ It’s just a silly thing I like to say.”

“Ignore him, Emi,” Natalia said, her smile warm and welcoming as she took the pastry box. She linked her arm with Emi’s, guiding her inside. “He’s an old man trapped in a teenager’s body. Come on in. Is that from Étoile Céleste? You shouldn’t have!”

“The patisserie across the street,” Emi confirmed. “I know it’s a bit much, but I wanted to bring something nice.”

“It’s perfect. These macarons are to die for,” Natalia said. “Let me get some plates.”

I watched them go, mentally adjusting my approach. Natalia was going to make this more complicated than necessary.

“Make yourselves comfortable in the living room Emi,” I called out. “I’ve prepared some snacks for our study session.”

I headed to the kitchen, brushing past Natalia with a look that said behave yourself. She returned it with a tiny smirk that said make me. The woman was going to be the death of me.

I pulled the platter of chicken wings from the oven. The skin was perfectly crispy, the glaze a sticky balance of sweet and spice. A recipe courtesy of the Yamaguchi-gumi’s best chef.

He was a monster with a cleaver, but a god with a marinade.

When I returned to the living room, Emi was already settling onto our massive L-shaped couch, her backpack disgorging a rainbow of color-coded notes and folders.

“Those smell amazing,” Emi said, her eyes locking onto the platter. “Did you make them yourself?”

“Something simple I threw together,” I replied, placing the platter on the coffee table beside a bowl of chips. I deliberately took the corner seat—the power position. Emi immediately moved to sit beside me, beaming as she arranged her study materials.

Natalia joined us moments later with the macarons artfully arranged on a plate. She sat on my other side, closer than was strictly necessary for a study session, her thigh pressing firmly against mine.

“So,” Emi began, opening a folder labeled ‘GATE THEORY’ in elaborate calligraphy, “where should we start? I was thinking we could go through some practice questions for the written portion.”

“Sounds good,” I said, reaching for a chicken wing. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Emi pulled out a sheet of paper, her expression growing serious. “Okay, first question! ‘According to the Vance-Ishiguro Model, calculate the metaphysical pressure decay rate of a C-Rank Blue Gate in a high-humidity environment, factoring in a 15% deviation for atmospheric Aspect saturation.’ Ugh, I hate these.”

Natalia sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s all theoretical nonsense. No one is doing advanced calculus in the middle of a Gate Break.”

“She’s right,” I said, leaning back against the couch cushions. “This is profoundly stupid.”

“What?” Emi looked between us, confusion etched across her face. “But this is standard material for the entrance exam.”

“And that’s exactly what’s wrong with the system,” I said, tossing a bone onto my plate. “Think about it. What’s the purpose of New Vein Academy?”

“To train Hunters,” Emi answered promptly.

“And what do Hunters do?”

“Fight monsters and clear Gates.”

“Right. So tell me, Emi—in what scenario would knowing the exact decay rate of a Gate in high humidity actually help you kill the monster at the center?”

Emi’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked down at her question sheet, brow furrowed.

“A Hunter doesn’t need to know the decay rate,” I continued, warming to my subject. “They need to know two things: How long do I have until this thing breaks, and what’s the fastest way to kill the bastard in the middle? This isn’t a university lecture; it’s a bomb disposal exam, and they’re asking us to write an essay on the chemical composition of the timer.”

“I… never thought about it that way,” Emi finally said, her voice soft with wonder.

“The academic approach is designed to create a barrier to entry,” I explained, reaching for another wing. “It’s not about practical knowledge; it’s about proving you can jump through arbitrary hoops. The real learning happens in the field, when your life is on the line.”

“That’s what you were talking about in the video!” Emi suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward so fast she nearly knocked over the chips. “That’s why everyone loves it! You’re speaking truth to power! You’re famous now, Satori-kun! You’re the ‘Stray Dog of NVA’!”

“I’m what now?” I blinked, caught off guard by her enthusiasm.

“The Stray Dog! That’s what they’re calling you online after that speech you gave to Julian Valerius. The clip has over two million views!” Emi pulled out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “But you don’t even have a SnapGram or a HeroNet profile! This is a marketing emergency! We need to fix this, right now!”

Before I could protest, Emi had scooted closer, her shoulder pressing against mine as she thrust her phone in front of my face. The screen showed a shaky video of me at the gala, facing down Julian Valerius with a calm, detached expression while he grew increasingly agitated.

“I didn’t realize someone was recording that,” I murmured.

“Everyone records everything at these events,” Natalia said, leaning in from my other side. “She’s right, you know. You made a big splash. If you don’t control the narrative, the VHC or the Valerius family will do it for you.”

This was an unexpected development, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. Fame had its uses, especially when building an empire.

“What exactly are you proposing?” I asked Emi.

“We need to establish your brand!” Emi’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “The outsider, the truth-teller, the fighter for the common Hunter! You’ve already got the perfect nickname—the Stray Dog. It’s authentic, it’s memorable, and it positions you as the underdog challenging the system!”

“I’m not sure—”

“She’s right,” Natalia interrupted, her fingers brushing my arm. “Think about it strategically. You’ve already made enemies of the Valerius family. Having public support could be valuable protection.”

They were both watching me expectantly. Emi with naked excitement, Natalia with a carefully constructed appearance of casual interest that couldn’t quite hide the glint of ambition in her eyes.

“Fine,” I relented, unable to argue with their logic. “What do we do first?”