My Scumbag System - Chapter 263

Chapter 263: The Lazy Genius and the Tactical Loafer
Sunlight hit my face the second we stepped outside. I winced, blinking away the spots dancing in my vision. Going from the simulator’s dim basement to Coral Street Ward was like getting flashbanged by overpriced retail.

And holy shit, was this place overpriced.

Sleek boutiques lined the cobblestone streets like soldiers at attention. Glass fronts showed off clothes that probably cost more than my entire monthly stipend. Rich people wandered past in designer boots that were actually reinforced armor. Coats with hidden panels. Jewelry that stored mana for emergencies. Everyone here was either a Hunter or pretending to be one.

The afternoon light bathed everything in a rich, golden haze, transforming the upscale district into something almost mythical. Sweet aromas wafted from an artisanal café nearby, mingling with the heady scents of designer perfumes that probably cost more than my monthly stipend. Beneath these pleasant fragrances lurked that distinctive metallic tang – the telltale signature of Aspect-enhanced fashion accessories that served as both status symbols and emergency gear for the wealthy. Carefully curated music spilled from boutique doorways, competing with the distant, rhythmic hum of the maglev transport system – the technological heartbeat of New Vein City pulsing beneath our feet.

I noticed Skylar walking closer to me than she had this morning, the space between us shrinking in a way that felt deliberate. Her signature headphones now hung loosely around her neck rather than covering her ears – a subtle but significant change in her usually impenetrable bubble of personal space. For someone as rigidly guarded as Skylar, this was practically rolling out a red carpet. Her shoulders angled subtly toward me instead of maintaining their typical defensive posture. Small things, nearly imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t spent weeks studying human behavior like it was a combat manual, but they mattered.

“So,” I said casually, watching a group of Academy students in their pristine uniforms pressing their faces against a display window across the street, “that thing with the smoke. All those duplicates. You done that before?”

Her Aspect had evolved dramatically mid-fight, transforming from basic illusions into a complex, disorienting army of phantom duplicates. That kind of sudden power spike didn’t just happen randomly. In my experience, it meant something significant had changed – either in her or in the environment.

She shrugged. “Not at that scale. Never had the right catalyst before.”

The way she said catalyst made it obvious she meant me. My fire had supercharged her smoke somehow. Given it weight and form beyond her normal limits. Our Aspects had synergized in a way that surprised even her.

I filed that away for later. Combat compatibility like that was rare. And useful.

“It worked,” I said, dodging a group of tourists taking photos of some street performer playing with water. “We should practice sometime. Could help in the Gate run. Especially that shadow-fire vortex thing at the end.”

She glanced at me sideways. Her crimson lips twitched. “Maybe. Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

Coming from the girl who treated enthusiasm like the plague? That was practically a love confession.

Carmen led us through winding streets like she owned the place. She pointed out a dessert shop that made Skylar’s eyes linger a second too long. An alleyway that supposedly led to an underground fight ring. A discreet storefront selling Gate materials to licensed Hunters.

Then she brought us to the most ridiculous boutique I’d ever seen.

“The Crimson Stitch.”

The name alone made me want to set something on fire.

The window displayed mannequins wearing clothes that would cost me a kidney. Maybe both kidneys. The building itself defied physics in that special way Aspect-enhanced construction did. Glass and steel twisted into impossible angles. The door was a slab of pure ruby, somehow transparent while staying deep red.

Magic bullshit. That’s what that was.

Carmen stopped outside and looked us over with the critical eye of a fashion dictator. Her gaze lingered on Juan’s wrinkled shirt and my deliberately boring outfit.

“Alright, girls, go nuts,” she announced with a wave. Then she looked at Juan and me with open disgust. “Actually, you two boys need to find something that doesn’t scream ‘I sleep in garbage.’ Something with style. Meet back here in an hour. And Juan, for the love of god, make an effort. Looking homeless isn’t the statement you think it is.”

Before I could explain that my boring clothes were a tactical choice, she’d herded the girls through the ruby door. It shut behind them with an expensive click that probably cost extra.

Juan immediately started drifting toward a bench. His whole body screamed “nap time.” Hands in pockets, shoulders slumped like gravity personally offended him.

I watched him for a second.

Juan Navarro was weird. Powerful Aspect. Sharp mind. Zero motivation. The guy had offensive capabilities that could level buildings but couldn’t be bothered to care about anything. If I wanted to build a functional team, I needed to figure out what made him tick.

Problem was, Juan seemed allergic to giving a shit.

“So,” I said, falling into step beside him. “That simulation sucked for you.”

“Understatement of the century.” He kept shuffling toward that bench like it was salvation. “My entire life philosophy is about avoiding situations like that. High-stress, high-movement, high-probability of having my bodily autonomy violated by simulated sea creatures with laser attachments.”

I cut him off before he could reach the bench. Casually redirected our path toward a sleek boutique across the street. The storefront was understated in a way that screamed old money. No flashy displays. Just one mannequin wearing a suit made from some exotic material that shimmered in the sunlight.

“You know,” I said, keeping pace with his reluctant shuffle, “with your brain, you could have finished that simulation in two minutes.”

Juan paused mid-yawn. His eyes sharpened. The lazy facade cracked just enough to show the genius underneath.

“How do you figure?”

“You’re a strategist. You see the whole board.” I kept my tone matter-of-fact. Juan would see through flattery like glass. “You could have found the optimal path. Identified the win condition. Executed it with the least possible movement. But you didn’t. You let Carmen drag you along for the ride. Which meant more running, more chaos, more effort than if you’d just taken charge.”

He was looking at me now. Really looking. His perpetually half-lidded eyes were wider than usual.

I’d caught his interest.