The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 169

Chapter 169: 169 | The Thank You and the Recalibration

"The other four?"

"I don’t have names. I have observations." Percy flipped pages. His fingers moved with the careful precision of someone handling documentation that mattered.

"The skateboard male left the building within twenty minutes of arrival and has not returned. I’m uncertain whether he’s actually living here or just collecting mail. The family male went to his room on this floor. Room 208. I heard him playing music through the wall at approximately seven-thirty. It had bass frequencies. The three females are all on the third floor West side. One of them has a dresser that required assistance from facilities staff. The dresser was mahogany. I heard them discussing it in the hallway while I was mapping the stairwell access."

"Yeah. I met that one."

Percy’s eyebrows rose. "You helped move the dresser."

"I helped move the dresser."

"Into whose room?"

"Petra Lang. 301."

Percy’s hand tightened on his notebook. His eyes did the rapid-processing thing where I could practically see information packets colliding behind his irises, the gears of his brain catching on something and accelerating past comfortable processing speed. "Petra Lang. Recommendation track. Conjuration. Legendary active. Parents are Margot Lang, who founded the Lang Agency in 2009, and Heinrich Lang, who runs Lang Industries, which holds manufacturing contracts with. Several government agencies. Multiple branches. She was not required to take the entrance examination. She entered through direct institutional recommendation which bypasses the standard practical assessment entirely."

"She also thought I was a mover."

Percy stared at me. The notebook nearly slipped from his grip. Then something happened to his face that I’d only seen twice before, both times in contexts where his brain had finished processing something and arrived at a conclusion that his body couldn’t contain. The corners of his mouth pulled sideways and his nose scrunched and a sound came out of him that was half wheeze and half actual laugh.

"She thought you were. A delivery person."

"Told me to make sure the bookshelf arrived by three. Gave me her furniture manifest. Had opinions about how I should handle the corners."

Percy laughed harder. It was an awkward laugh, uneven and pitched too high, the laugh of someone who didn’t get enough practice with it and whose vocal cords weren’t entirely sure what shape to make. But it was real. His whole body participated in it, shoulders shaking and notebook nearly slipping from his grip and his breath coming in uneven bursts that sounded almost painful.

"That’s. That is. Statistically. The third-ranked entrance exam applicant. Being mistaken for furniture logistics."

"To be fair, I was carrying furniture."

"To be fair." Percy repeated the phrase with the inflection of someone tasting it for the first time and finding the flavor acceptable. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and collected himself, the flush on his cheeks slowly receding. His breathing evened out. His grip on the notebook stabilized. "She will. Realize her error."

"She will."

"And the recalibration will be."

"Spectacular."

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