My Scumbag System - Chapter 136

Chapter 136: This is The Best Second (Not-Quite) Date of My Life and Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong
The golden hour light streaming through the panoramic windows painted everything in warm honey tones. The remains of their study session scattered across the coffee table like evidence of a successful mission—empty macaron boxes, chicken wing bones, and her phone still buzzing with notifications from Satori’s rapidly growing social media accounts.

Okay, Emi, play it cool. It was just a study session. A totally normal study session where you accidentally became the unpaid social media manager for potentially the hottest guy in school. No big deal. Just say goodbye like a normal person and leave.

She glanced at Natalia, who lounged on the couch scrolling through her phone with the casual grace of someone completely at home. That small, sharp pang hit Emi again—the same feeling she’d been fighting all afternoon.

They’re step-siblings. That’s just what it’s like when you’ve lived with someone for years. Don’t read into it, Emi. You’re being weird.

She zipped her backpack and stood, smoothing down her mint-green sweater. “Well, thank you guys so much for having me! This was super helpful. I should probably get going before it gets too dark.”

Satori rose from the couch in one fluid motion, his red hair catching the dying sunlight. Natalia remained sprawled across the cushions, offering a lazy wave without looking up from her phone.

“It’s late. I’ll walk you to the maglev station.”

Emi’s brain promptly blue-screened. He wants to walk me home? Is this a date thing? A polite thing? What do I do with my hands? Should I fix my hair?

“Oh! You don’t have to do that! I’ll be totally fine!” The words tumbled out in a rush, pitched slightly too high.

Satori was already reaching for his keys from the side table. “It’s not safe for a girl to be out alone this late. It’s no trouble. Come on.”

The elevator ride down felt like being trapped in a very luxurious torture device. Twenty-seven floors of hyperawareness—the clean, masculine scent that seemed to radiate from his skin, the way he stood with his hands in his pockets, the soft hum of the machinery that did nothing to fill the charged silence between them.

Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t trip. Don’t spontaneously combust.

The lobby’s marble floors clicked under her ankle boots as they walked past the formal doorman. Outside, Veridian Hills transformed into something magical. Streetlights flickered on like fairy lights, casting pools of golden warmth on the pristine sidewalks. The air carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms from the ornamental trees lining the avenue.

They fell into step beside each other, and Emi tried to focus on anything other than how perfectly her stride matched his longer one. The silence stretched, comfortable but electric, until their hands brushed.

It was barely contact—just the backs of their knuckles grazing as they walked. But Emi’s entire nervous system lit up like a Christmas tree. Before she could overthink it, Satori’s fingers found hers, warm and sure, lacing through them like they belonged there.

He’s holding my hand. He’s holding my hand. HE’S HOLDING MY HAND.

Her palm felt tiny in his, completely enveloped by calloused fingers that spoke of recent training. She fought the urge to look down and confirm this was actually happening, afraid that acknowledging it might break whatever spell had settled over them.

“So,” Satori’s voice broke through her internal meltdown. “Tell me more about these gear designs of yours.”

“Really?” Heat bloomed in her chest, different from the nervous fluttering. This was warmer, steadier. The feeling of being truly seen. “I’ve been sketching modifications to standard healer gear. Most of it’s designed by combat specialists who don’t understand how healing Aspects actually work in the field.”

“Show me.”

She fumbled for her phone with her free hand, pulling up her digital portfolio. “See, standard medic vests have these bulky pouches that restrict arm movement. But healers need full range of motion to project our Aspects effectively. And the weight distribution is all wrong—it puts strain on the lower back during extended operations.”

Satori studied the screen as they walked, his attention focused entirely on her words. Not the polite half-listening she was used to, but genuine engagement. “What’s your solution?”

“Modular attachment points with quick-release mechanisms. Lighter materials that don’t compromise protection. And integrated cooling systems because healing generates a lot of body heat.” The words spilled out faster as her excitement built. “I know it sounds technical, but—”

“It sounds brilliant.” He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “You’re going to revolutionize support gear.”

The conviction in his voice made her breath catch. Standing there under the soft glow of a streetlight, his hand still holding hers, Emi felt like she could conquer the world.

“You really think so?”

“I know so.” His free hand reached up to tuck a strand of blue hair behind her ear, the gesture so gentle she almost melted. “Like I’ve told you, the academy would be lucky to have someone with your vision.”

They resumed walking, the conversation flowing easier now. Satori asked thoughtful questions about her designs, her inspiration, her dreams for the future. He listened like her words mattered, like her ambitions were worth taking seriously.

The maglev station appeared ahead, all gleaming metal and soft blue lighting. Emi’s steps slowed involuntarily. The end of their not-quite-date loomed before them, and she wasn’t ready for it to be over.

They stopped at the platform edge, the gentle hum of approaching transit filling the air. Satori’s hand squeezed hers once before releasing it, leaving her fingers feeling cold and empty.

“Well…” She twisted the strap of her backpack, suddenly fascinated by her boots. “This is me. Thanks again for walking me. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” His voice was soft, intimate in the mostly empty station. “Get home safe, Emi.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes. They were darker than usual, unreadable. Her heart hammered against her ribs as a thousand possibilities raced through her mind. Is he going to kiss me again? Should I kiss him? What if I’m reading this wrong? What if—

The maglev glided into the station with barely a whisper, its doors sliding open with a soft chime.

She turned toward the train, already composing the text she’d send Miyako about her epic failure to seize the moment.

“Emi.”

She spun back, eyes wide, hope fluttering back to life in her chest. He stepped closer, and for a wild second she thought he might actually—

Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead.

The kiss was soft, warm, and devastating in its tenderness. Not the passionate movie moment she’d been fantasizing about, but something infinitely more precious. It felt protective, reverent, like a promise wrapped in the gentlest touch.

When he pulled back, his eyes were soft. “Text me when you get home?”

Emi could only nod, her voice completely gone. She stumbled onto the train in a daze, her fingers pressed to the spot where his lips had been. The doors slid shut, and she found a window seat, turning to look back at the platform.

Satori stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her train. He didn’t move until the maglev had completely pulled away from the station, carrying her into the night.

Emi stared at her reflection in the dark window, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes sparkling like stars. A smile spread across her face—goofy, helpless, and completely smitten.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Miyako: “How did it go?? TELL ME EVERYTHING”

Emi typed back with shaking fingers: “I think I’m in love.”