My Scumbag System - Chapter 264

Chapter 264: How to Bribe a Genius with Silk Shirts
I stopped in front of the boutique. “Kingsley’s,” according to the gold lettering on the window. Actual gold, inlaid into the glass. Because of course it was.

“You hate effort, right?” I continued. “But here’s the thing. The ultimate life of no effort isn’t about doing nothing. It’s about being so smart, so powerful, that you achieve maximum results with minimum work. It’s about getting other people to do the hard work for you. The true apex of laziness isn’t being a slacker. It’s being the puppet master who barely has to move to make the world dance.”

Juan was silent. His quick mind was processing. Testing my logic for flaws. I could see the calculations running behind his eyes.

I waited. The key to handling a genius like Juan was making him think the idea was his own. Plant the seed and let him water it himself.

“That’s…” he drew the word out, “actually not terrible logic. Creating systems that function without constant input is better than constant avoidance.”

His shoulders straightened slightly. First sign of genuine interest I’d seen from him.

“Come on,” I pushed the door open. Sandalwood-scented air drifted out. “Let’s get you a shirt that doesn’t have a mysterious stain on it. Even a king of laziness needs to look the part. The right facade makes manipulation effortless.”

The interior of Kingsley’s was exactly what you’d expect. Dark wood paneling. Plush leather chairs. Ambient lighting that made everyone look more attractive. The quiet hum of wealth. Classical music played from hidden speakers.

A salesman in an impeccable suit approached. Took one look at us. Wisely decided to give us space. His professionally neutral expression couldn’t quite hide the slight wrinkle of his nose at Juan’s disheveled appearance.

Smart man.

“So what are you suggesting?” Juan asked. He fingered a silk shirt with reluctant interest. The material slipped through his fingers like water, practically glowing under the lights. “That I should… care?” He said the word like it was foreign. Distasteful.

I made a dismissive noise, casually selecting a dark jacket from a nearby display, feeling the quality of the material between my fingers. “God no. Caring is exhausting. I’m suggesting you apply your philosophy more effectively.” I pulled a luxurious emerald shirt from a rack and held it against his lanky frame, watching how the color immediately elevated his entire appearance. “This would suit you.”

“Think about it,” I continued, my voice low enough that the hovering salesman couldn’t overhear. “You could run the entire Onyx Hounds’ strategy from your bed, wrapped in silk sheets while everyone else sweats and bleeds. You just need the right pieces on the board who will follow your orders without question. Pieces like me. Like Jaime. Heavy hitters who can execute the plans you formulate without you having to lift a finger.”

“Like chess pieces,” Juan said thoughtfully, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The languid posture remained, but that gleam in his half-lidded eyes told me I’d struck the perfect chord. “I provide the strategy, you provide the brute force.”

“Exactly,” I nodded, placing another potential outfit in his reluctant hands. “You’re a general who hates fighting. So find some good soldiers. Why waste energy doing what others can do for you? It’s the ultimate expression of laziness—delegating everything while still getting all the credit.”

Juan held up a ridiculous silk shirt in deep blue. Probably cost more than all his current clothes combined. The price tag confirmed it. Five digits for a single piece of fabric.

“This is surprisingly comfortable.” He eyed me with new interest. His lazy demeanor slipped to reveal the razor-sharp mind beneath. “And you’re basically saying you want me to be your mission control so you don’t have to think too hard in a fight. I plan, you execute. I stay safe, you get your hands dirty.”

“Symbiotic relationship,” I confirmed. Selected a pair of tailored black pants. “You do the thinking, I do the bleeding. We both get what we want. Maximum result, minimum effort on your part.”

For the first time since I’d met him, genuine interest appeared in Juan’s eyes. It wasn’t ambition. Juan wasn’t wired that way. It was the look of a man who’d just been presented with a beautifully elegant, low-effort solution to all his problems.

“That,” he said slowly, examining the silk shirt with newfound appreciation, his fingers tracing the luxurious material, “is an incredibly appealing proposition.” He looked at me, his usually half-lidded eyes now fully alert, calculating. A smile spread across his face – not the lazy one I’d seen before, but one of genuine intellectual interest. “You’re a dangerous man, Satori Nakano. You make laziness sound heroic, strategic even. Like it’s a virtue rather than a character flaw.”

I shrugged, casually adjusting the lapel of a jacket I was considering. Allowed myself a small, knowing smile. “I’m a pragmatist. And I recognize a kindred spirit when I see one. We’re both looking for shortcuts to get what we want. Just different kinds. You want to avoid effort; I want to avoid unnecessary risk. Our weaknesses complement each other perfectly.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

I hadn’t just earned his cooperation for tonight’s little adventure. I’d earned something far more valuable – his intellectual respect. For a tactical genius like Juan Navarro, that was worth infinitely more than fleeting loyalty or superficial friendship.

It was the perfect foundation for a useful, enduring alliance. One where his brilliant mind would serve my ambitions while believing he was simply taking the path of least resistance.

We both picked out clothes. I selected a sharp, dark outfit perfect for a night out. Slim-fit black pants. A charcoal button-up with subtle crimson stitching. A tailored jacket that enhanced my shoulders without drawing too much attention.

Juan got that ridiculous blue silk shirt paired with casual but expensive-looking pants that somehow made his perpetual slouch look intentional rather than lazy. The salesman, identifying potential commission, had warmed considerably. He offered subtle suggestions. Made small adjustments. Transformed Juan from “disheveled genius” to “deliberately casual intellectual.”

The effect was striking. He looked almost respectable. Like someone you might actually listen to when they spoke.

We were about to leave when my datapad buzzed. Insistent. Almost frantic. I pulled it out to see a group message from Carmen in all capitals with multiple exclamation points.

[SATORI! JUAN! GET YOUR ASSES OVER TO THE CRIMSON STITCH. NOW. FASHION EMERGENCY OF EPIC PROPORTIONS. REINFORCEMENTS NEEDED!!!!!]