The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 342

Chapter 342: 342 | The Bureaucracy of Ambition

The room detonated.

Not literally, though Sloane wasn’t present so the distinction felt academic. What happened was twenty teenagers who’d spent two weeks being evaluated, criticized, and systematically stripped of their illusions about hero work suddenly realized that someone among them was about to receive actual institutional power, and every single one of them wanted it.

Caden’s hand shot into the air before Steele finished her sentence. Not his standard lazy raise where he let gravity do most of the work and his wrist did the rest. Full extension, straight up, shoulder engaged, the posture of someone who had apparently been waiting for this specific opportunity since orientation and had been concealing that ambition beneath six layers of comedic timing and light manipulation.

"Self-nomination," Caden announced with a grin that communicated he found the entire concept of authority hilarious and also that he fully intended to wield it. "I’m putting my name in."

Marco leaned sideways. "You can barely put your name on assignments."

"Irrelevant. The people love me."

"Which people."

"All of them. I’m polling extremely well in the Caden Holt demographic."

Theo’s hand went up next. Of course it did. Theo Park was the human equivalent of comfort food crossed with a support column. He didn’t raise his hand with Caden’s theatrical speed. He just placed it in the air like he was holding space for everyone who needed someone reliable, which was his entire personality compressed into a single gesture. Several people around the room nodded immediately upon seeing Theo’s arm, their faces carrying the expression of voters who’d already decided and were simply confirming their positions.

Then Camille stood from her seat entirely, because sitting down while volunteering for leadership apparently violated a personal code she’d never documented but followed religiously. "I’m nominating myself for the female representative position." Her voice carried through the room like a thrown rivet, direct and impossible to dodge. "If anyone has a problem with that, they can bring it to my face. Preferably during sparring so I can address the problem and improve my technique simultaneously."

Nobody had a problem with that.

Nyx raised her hand from the back row without speaking, her grey eyes communicating that the prospect of attending faculty meetings where institutional decisions happened aligned perfectly with her documented hobby of knowing things about power structures that the people inside those structures would prefer she didn’t know. Maribelle whispered something beside her that made Nyx’s neutral expression flicker toward amusement.

Zara’s hand went up. Lyra’s hand went up. Eden’s hand went up, and Maribelle immediately pulled it back down while explaining something to him in a voice too low to carry.

Petra’s planner closed with a click that cut through the noise like a church bell at a wrestling match. She didn’t raise her hand. She simply said "I’ll serve" in a tone suggesting she considered the position already hers and this democratic exercise a formality the institution required before confirming what everyone already knew.

And then.

Percy Mendoza raised his hand.

The notebook stayed on his desk. His navy blue hair caught the overhead fluorescent in a way that made the color look almost supernatural.

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