My Scumbag System - Chapter 134

Chapter 134: How to Go Viral? Take Off Your Shirt
The moment Emi’s face shifted from eager student to panic-stricken PR manager, I knew we weren’t studying for exams anymore. Her fingers moved across her phone screen with frightening speed, her eyebrows drawing together in what I could only describe as professional outrage.

“This is a disaster!” She thrust her phone at me, nearly jabbing my chest. “There are already three fake accounts pretending to be you!”

I stared at the screen, my jaw tightening. The profile picture was a blurry screenshot of my face from the viral video, obviously cropped from a wider shot. The username @TheRealStrayDogNVA glared back at me like an insult.

“This one is asking for money for ‘independent Hunter gear research’!” Emi swiped to another profile. “And this other one is trying to slide into Reyna Cabana’s DMs with the worst pickup lines I’ve ever seen!”

In my old life, a man impersonating Kaelen Leone would have ended up as fish food in Tokyo Bay. The audacity alone was worth broken knees, but the sheer stupidity of leaving a digital trail? That was what really got under my skin.

“Who are these idiots?” I muttered.

“Opportunists,” Natalia said, leaning over to look at Emi’s phone. “They saw a viral moment and jumped on it. This happens all the time with new Hunters who make a splash.”

Emi nodded vigorously, her blue hair bobbing with the motion. “We’re losing control of your brand narrative! We need to act fast.”

“My what?” I asked, reaching for another chicken wing.

“Your brand!” Emi snatched the wing from my hand and placed it back on the plate. “This is serious, Satori-kun! We need to establish your official accounts right now before these fakes gain any more traction.”

I glanced at Natalia, hoping for some support, but she just smiled that infuriating little smile that said she was enjoying my discomfort far too much.

“Fine,” I sighed. “What do we need to do?”

“First things first,” Emi said, switching into what I could only describe as drill sergeant mode. “We need a good profile picture. Something that says ‘approachable but dangerous.’ The lighting in the gym would be perfect.” She turned to Natalia. “Can you help me find his best angle?”

“Best angle?” I snorted. “Every angle is my best angle.”

Emi patted my cheek with a sweetness so condescending I had the primal urge to bite her hand. “That’s cute, Satori-kun. But it won’t get you a sponsorship deal with ‘Kinetic-Koil’ athletic wear. Now, turn slightly to the left and try to look… brooding, but in a hopeful way.”

“What does that even mean?” I looked to Natalia for translation.

“She means stop looking like you’re planning to murder the photographer,” Natalia supplied helpfully.

Emi handed me her phone. “Here, take a selfie. Just to get a feel for your natural angles.”

I held the device at arm’s length, staring at my own face on the screen. How the hell was I supposed to look “brooding but hopeful”? I pressed the button.

Emi’s face fell when I showed her the result. “Oh… that’s… maybe I should take it,” Emi suggested gently, reclaiming her phone. “Natalia, can you adjust the blinds? We need softer light.”

For the next twenty minutes, I endured what could only be described as a torture session disguised as a photoshoot. Emi directed me like a tiny, blue-haired Stephen Steinberg, while Natalia alternated between genuine assistance and barely suppressed laughter.

“Chin up a little!”

“No, not that much!”

“Can you look more intense? But friendly intense, not serial-killer intense!”

“Stop squinting!”

“I’m not squinting,” I protested. “The sun is in my eyes!”

“Natalia, adjust the blinds again,” Emi commanded without taking her eyes off her viewfinder.

“You know,” Natalia said as she twisted the blind control, “for someone who commanded an entire room at the gala, you’re surprisingly bad at this.”

“The gala was different,” I muttered. “Not… whatever this is.”

“Fans,” Emi supplied cheerfully. “Potential fans, sponsors, and connections. Social capital is real capital in the Hunter world, Satori-kun.”

After what felt like a hundred failed attempts, Emi’s face suddenly lit up. “Oh! I have an idea!” She turned to me with eyes that burned with creative inspiration. “Take off your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked.

“Just wear the tank top underneath,” she clarified, though her cheeks flushed pink. “The fans will go crazy for the ‘effortlessly training’ look.”

I glanced at Natalia, who raised an eyebrow in challenge. Fine. I pulled my t-shirt over my head, revealing the fitted black tank top beneath.

The air itself seemed to thin the moment the shirt came off. Emi, who had been directing me like a seasoned film director, suddenly went silent. Her professional focus shattered, her eyes widening just a fraction as her phone wavered in her grip.

Beside me, I felt a subtle change in Natalia. The warmth of her amusement cooled into a possessive stillness, her smirk tightening at the edges.

“Um… that’s… perfect,” Emi stammered, raising her phone again. “Now just… um… maybe lean against the wall? And look… thoughtful.”

I did as instructed, crossing my arms and leaning my shoulder against the wall. I wasn’t sure what “thoughtful” looked like, so I settled for “I’m trying to fuck look.”

“Perfect!” Emi exclaimed after a rapid-fire series of clicks. “These are really good!”

She showed me the screen, and even I had to admit the photos looked substantially better than my attempts. The lighting caught the definition in my arms, and my expression had somehow landed on intense without crossing into homicidal.

“Okay, now let’s craft your bio,” Emi said, dropping onto the couch and patting the spot beside her. I sat down, keenly aware of Natalia claiming the space on my other side, closer than strictly necessary.

“For the bio… ‘NVA Prospect. Believer in earned power. The Stray Dog.’ How does that sound?” Emi asked, fingers hovering over her screen.

“It sounds like a cheesy political campaign.”

“It’s perfect,” Natalia countered. “It’s exactly what they want to hear.”

Emi nodded in agreement. “Short, memorable, on-brand. Now, for your first post…” She selected what she deemed the best photo—me leaning against the wall, looking slightly off-camera. “The caption: ‘The work begins. See you at the exams. #NVA #StrayDog #EarnYourPower’.”

She looked at me for final approval. I just shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. Post it.”

Emi’s thumb hovered over the button. “Wait! We need to make sure all your accounts launch simultaneously for maximum impact.”

“All my accounts?” I groaned. “How many are there?”

“SnapGram, HeroNet, and TokTik for sure,” Emi counted on her fingers. “Maybe Hunter’s Forum too, but that’s more for technical discussions.”

“I’m not doing dance videos,” I said firmly.

“No, no, TokTik would be for training montages! People love those.” Emi was already setting up another profile. “Trust me, this is going to be huge!”