The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 295

Chapter 295: 295 | Hero Brand Management [PS BONUS]

The shower lasted exactly seven minutes because anything longer would have made me late for the first actual class of the semester. Combat Training with Radiant was experiential learning. This was different. This was theoretical foundation work, which meant sitting in a classroom and pretending to take notes while my brain processed the chaos of the last twenty-four hours.

Hero Brand Management with Isabelle Crane.

The course title alone made me want to reconsider my career choices.

I walked into the lecture hall at 9:47 AM, three minutes before the scheduled start time, and immediately understood that this class was going to be a problem. The room was arranged like a small amphitheater, with curved rows of seats descending toward a central presentation area. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the east wall flooded the space with natural light. The aesthetics were clearly intentional, designed to make whoever stood at the center feel like they were performing rather than teaching.

The woman standing at that center was already performing.

Isabelle Crane.

I had seen her name on the faculty roster and done exactly zero research because Brand Management sounded like the kind of class I could sleep through. This was a tactical error of significant magnitude.

She stood at maybe five foot eight in heels that added another four inches, putting her at an even six feet of overwhelming presence. Her hair was a deep midnight blue that fell past her shoulders in waves that looked effortless and probably cost more to maintain than my monthly food budget. Her eyes matched the hair, a striking azure that swept across the gathering students with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how good she looked and had decided to make that everyone else’s problem.

Her outfit was not what I expected from an academy instructor.

A fitted white blouse that strained against her chest in ways that seemed structurally inadvisable for a professional setting. A black pencil skirt that stopped several inches above her knees and hugged her hips like it had been sewn directly onto her body. Stockings with a subtle shimmer that caught the light when she moved. The overall effect was less professor and more high-end executive who had decided academia was her next conquest.

She was also wearing a mask.

Not a full face covering, but a domino style piece in deep purple that covered the area around her eyes and extended back into her hairline. It should have looked ridiculous in an academic context. Instead it looked like she had decided the normal rules of professional presentation did not apply to her and dared anyone to argue.

I found a seat in the middle row, close enough to see the board but far enough that I could zone out if necessary. Caden dropped into the seat beside me with the enthusiasm of someone who had clearly also noticed the instructor and was processing similar observations.

"Bro," he said, keeping his voice low. "Did you know she was going to look like that?"

"I did not."

"Because I feel like someone should have warned us."

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