The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227: 227 | People Notice Gaps

"Koda’s eaten four plates." This from Dash, who sat beside Koda with a more moderate selection of salad, grilled fish, and rice. His easy smile reached his eyes. "We’ve been counting."

"Four and a half. The dumplings count as half because they were small." Koda held up a drumstick for emphasis. "Also Lukas, the blue shirt is a choice. Who are you trying to impress?"

"Nobody. A friend helped me shop."

"A friend." Sloane’s voice carried the exact inflection that meant she was choosing not to elaborate for the table’s benefit. Her hand found my thigh under the table and squeezed once. Ownership reestablished.

The rest of the table was a mix of familiar and new. I recognized Gia Mercer from the common room encounter during move-in day, her silver-grey eyes scanning the cafeteria with the same assessing quality she brought to everything.

She ate precisely, her plate arranged with the organizational logic of someone who had opinions about food touching.

Next to Gia sat a girl I hadn’t met, tall with deep brown skin and box braids pulled into a high ponytail that added three inches to her already considerable height. Her arms showed the kind of lean muscle that came from real athletic training rather than Aspect-enhanced development.

"Lukas, this is Amara Osei," Sloane said, catching my gaze on the new face. "She’s 1-A. Second place on the mile run today across both cohorts."

Amara looked at me with the calm appraisal of someone who sized up opponents for a living. "You’re the one who ranked third on the entrance exam. With the telekinesis."

"Force manipulation, technically. But close enough."

"I watched your practical footage. The rescue with the zero-pointer was solid work." She picked up her water and drank without breaking eye contact. "Your tactical positioning was better than your combat output, which is either smart or suspicious depending on your perspective."

"I’ve heard both."

"I’m sure you have."

Amara’s voice had weight to it. Every word landed where she placed it, no excess, no performance. She reminded me of Steele in miniature, someone who evaluated the world through a lens of what worked and what didn’t without wasting time on what looked good.

At the far end of the table sat a boy with silver hair and a face that belonged on a cologne advertisement. His features were symmetrical in a way that felt engineered rather than natural, with cheekbones sharp enough to file paperwork on and eyes so pale blue they bordered on white.

He wore the standard Halloran athletic wear like he’d been born in it, the compression shirt outlining a physique that suggested his Aspect involved either physical enhancement or extremely dedicated gym attendance.

"That’s Alistair Crane." Koda lowered her voice to a stage whisper that everyone at the table could hear. "His mom is Isabelle Crane. You know. Belle? The one who ran the entrance exam?"

Right. The retired Rank A hero who’d offered her personal recommendation to anyone who could take down the zero-pointer. Which nobody had managed in fifteen years, myself included.

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