The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 150

Chapter 150: 150 | I Find Your Lack of Engagement... Noted

Dale didn’t respond to the slang with any visible confusion. He’d probably heard worse from panicked Hero students who’d blown holes in their parents’ walls.

"Wish I was joking, kid. The materials alone run about six to eight hundred. The labor’s specialized because we have to reinforce the patch against future kinetic impact, which means we’re not just slapping drywall and spackle up there. We’re installing impact-rated backer board behind the finish surface, which requires cutting out a larger section than the hole itself, framing it properly, and then finishing to match. And ceiling work’s always more expensive because gravity’s working against you and my guys charge a premium for overhead labor."

I rubbed my face with my free hand. The coffee had stopped tasting good approximately thirty seconds ago.

"Can I get back to you?"

"Sure. I’m booked today but I can squeeze you in tomorrow morning if you want. Or Friday. Your call."

I thanked Dale. Hung up. Stared at the phone in my hand.

Three to six thousand dollars to fix two holes. Two holes that I’d created in approximately 0.3 seconds with a weapon that the System had given me for free. The cosmic irony was so thick I could have spread it on toast.

I sat at the kitchen counter and pulled up my bank balance. The trust that Marcus Belmont had established for his son’s education contained a meaningful amount, but using it to repair property damage from a midnight weapon test felt like the kind of decision that would make a dead Hero roll over in his grave. Diane had access to the trust as well. She’d notice the withdrawal. She’d ask questions. Not hostile questions, because Diane didn’t do hostile. She’d ask the kind of quiet, measured questions that peeled you apart layer by layer while you sat there thinking you were having a normal conversation.

I could ask Diane to cover it. She had the money. She would probably do it without complaint, because she’d already committed to the progressive manifestation cover story and unexpected property damage fell within the acceptable parameters of raising an Aspect user whose powers kept evolving. But the look she’d give me while writing the check would communicate approximately seven paragraphs of unspoken commentary about responsibility and foresight and why grown men test their weapons at public athletic fields instead of in residential gyms at one in the morning.

I could fix it myself for six to eight hundred in materials.

I sighed so deep that my lungs scraped the bottom of wherever lungs end.

I didn’t know how to fix this shit.

That was the actual problem. Not the money. Not the timeline. Not Sloane’s training schedule or Diane’s insurance premiums. The raw, fundamental, embarrassing truth was that I had eighty Intelligence, eighty Dexterity, two supernatural abilities, a Legendary weapon in my inventory, the third-highest entrance exam score in the country, and I could not patch drywall.

The Oracle Feed pulsed in my peripheral vision.

I ignored it.

It pulsed again. More insistent this time, like a cat that had learned where the treat drawer was.

I read it.

The notification contained a single line of text: Tutorial content available. Home repair. Skill integration: 0%.

I sat up straighter.

"You have a home repair tutorial."

The System’s response materialized in bracket notation.

〘 The System contains informational resources across a wide range of practical domains. Home repair falls within the domestic capability subset, which was unlocked during the tutorial phase when you demonstrated cooking proficiency. You never accessed it. 〙

"You’re telling me I’ve had a drywall repair guide sitting in my System this entire time."

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