My Scumbag System - Chapter 235

Chapter 235: Looks Like Teacher is Finally Here
I scraped the last bit of curry from my bowl. Savored the final bite. The rich, spicy flavor lingered on my tongue.

Around me, the common room of Onyx House had transformed. No longer a battleground of egos. Something almost pleasant. The tension that had dominated our first interactions earlier today had dissipated. Funny how easily humans could be pacified with food and comfort. A weakness worth remembering.

Marco and Hikari sat across from each other at the coffee table. Hands locked in an intense arm-wrestling match. Drew a small crowd of onlookers. The entire wooden table shook with their effort. A half-full water glass inched dangerously toward the edge with each tremor.

Malachi stood silently behind Marco. Those dark eyes watched with that eerie, unblinking intensity that seemed to be his default state.

“Just give up already,” Marco grunted. His face reddened with exertion. Veins popped along his forearm. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he strained against Hikari’s grip.

“Never!” Hikari grinned maniacally. Not a single bead of sweat on her forehead. Her eyes sparkled with childish delight. She was clearly toying with him. Holding back her true strength to prolong the entertainment. “A hero never surrenders!”

The contrast between her casual demeanor and Marco’s struggle was almost comical. She could end this whenever she wanted. But where was the fun in that?

On the loveseat tucked into the corner, Emi spread open a leather-bound sketchbook. Placed it across her and Soomin’s laps. Pages filled with colorful drawings of what appeared to be combat gear designs.

Soomin nodded shyly. Her fingers nervously twisted a strand of pink hair. She leaned forward to get a better look.

“See? I think support-type gear should prioritize mobility above everything,” Emi explained enthusiastically. Her finger traced along a particularly detailed sketch. Looked like reinforced boots with some kind of spring mechanism. “What good is healing if you can’t reach your teammates in time? These would increase your jumping height by at least thirty percent.”

“It’s beautiful,” Soomin whispered. Her voice was barely audible from where I sat. Pink hair fell forward like a curtain as she leaned closer. “You’re really talented, Emi-san. I could never create something like this.”

In the far corner, partially hidden by one of the room’s support columns, Natalia and Isabelle had their heads bent together. An intense conversation that looked more like a strategic summit than casual chatting. They looked like diplomats negotiating a delicate peace treaty. All sharp gestures and calculated expressions.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the general noise of the room. But I recognized the look in Natalia’s eyes. She was gathering intelligence. Probing for weaknesses and advantages.

Good girl. She was learning.

Juan was spread-eagle on the couch. One leg draped over the armrest. One arm hung limply toward the floor. Mouth open. Snoring softly. A thin line of drool connected his lower lip to the cushion.

Some things never changed. Regardless of the world or circumstance. The human inclination toward sloth remained a universal constant.

Raphael brooded by the bay window. Stared out at the darkening campus grounds. His muscular frame was silhouetted against the purple twilight sky. His combat knife had disappeared from his hand. But the scowl remained permanently etched on his face.

He occasionally glanced back at the room. His eyes narrowed whenever they landed on me. Still pissed about yesterday. Still looking for a reason to challenge me.

Fine. Let him stew.

Skylar lounged in a plush armchair near the fireplace. Headphones clamped over her ears. Foot tapped to some inaudible rhythm. Her eyes were closed. But the slight twitching of her lips suggested she was fully aware of everything happening around her.

Nothing got past her. Even when she pretended not to care.

The front door swung open with an ominous creak. Cut through the ambient noise. Interrupted my observations.

Braxton Miller ambled in.

Looked exactly as disheveled as when he’d abandoned us this morning. Perhaps even worse. His tie hung loose around his neck like a half-strangled snake. White shirt wrinkled beyond salvation. Dark circles underscored his eyes.

A fresh cup of coffee steamed in his hand. The liquid inside looked viscous enough to qualify as a new form of matter. Somewhere between solid and liquid. The pungent smell hit me from across the room. Coffee mixed with something much stronger.

Whiskey probably. Maybe bourbon.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Carmen drawled from her armchair near the entrance. She raised her beer can in mock salute. The metal glinted in the lamplight. “Find your way home okay, Braz? I was getting worried I might need to put up ‘Lost Professor’ posters around campus.”

Raphael spun around from the window. His entire body tensed like a coiled spring. Eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded. Voice carried the raw edge of someone still nursing wounded pride from the morning’s humiliation. “You were supposed to be running our training. Not disappearing for the entire damn day!”

Braxton took an excruciatingly slow sip of his coffee. Completely unfazed by the accusation. The silence stretched awkwardly as he savored the drink. Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

He lowered the cup. Revealed a slight grimace. Might have been from the taste. Might have been his response to Raphael’s outburst.

“Sorry,” he said flatly. Didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “Got lost on the road of life.”

The exact same excuse he’d used this morning when he’d vanished after introducing himself. But this time there was an unmistakable glint in his bloodshot eyes. He was doing it on purpose. Trolling Raphael with his indifference. Proving he could push the volatile student’s buttons with minimal effort.

I almost respected that level of casual dickishness.

He scanned the room with the practiced eye of someone who’d spent years assessing potential threats. His tired gaze moved methodically from face to face.

When his eyes landed on me, they lingered for a fraction longer.

Something shifted in his expression. A subtle nod. Barely perceptible. But clearly meant for me.

Recognition? Approval? Or something more calculating?

I held his gaze. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

He was testing me. Seeing if I’d back down.

I wouldn’t.

After a moment, he broke eye contact first. Continued his scan of the room.

Point to me.

“Besides,” he continued. Addressed the room at large. “Looks like Nakano handled things just fine. No one’s dead. The house isn’t literally on fire.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. The fabric of his shirt strained against the movement. “I call that a successful first week by Onyx Hounds standards.”

Raphael opened his mouth to argue. Color rose to his cheeks. But Braxton raised his coffee cup in a silencing gesture. Somehow carried more authority than a shout would have.

“Alright, puppies, gather ’round,” he announced. Dropped into the main armchair with a heavy sigh. Seemed to deflate his entire body. The cushions wheezed in protest beneath his weight.

“Time for your first ‘official’ lesson.”