The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 38

Chapter 38: 38 | The Devoted Threshold

The Oracle Feed pinged in my peripheral vision.

〘 Subject’s elevated heart rate and aggressive positioning indicate emotional investment masked as interrogation. Physical dominance display suggests insecurity regarding information asymmetry in relationship dynamic. 〙

In other words, Sloane was worried I was keeping secrets from her, and she was handling it the way she handled everything—by pinning me to a mattress and demanding answers.

"I’m not hiding anything." The lie came out smooth because technically it was true. I wasn’t hiding the Force Manipulation classification. I was hiding approximately seventeen other things, but not that specifically.

"Then why did you look so relieved when Dr. Weber approved it?" She shifted her weight again, and this time there was no way she didn’t notice my body’s reaction to having her straddling me. Her eyes widened slightly, and a flush crept up her neck. "Why did my mom jump in with that explanation before you could answer?"

"Because your mom is better at this than I am," I said honestly. "She’s been managing Hero PR for two decades. She knew what classification would work best for my application."

Sloane stared down at me, her expression conflicted. The aggressive interrogation stance was faltering, replaced by something else entirely. Something that made my pulse kick up for reasons that had nothing to do with being caught in a lie.

"You’ve been different," she said quietly. "Ever since you manifested. Ever since that night in the training room when I—when we—"

"When you walked in on me naked?"

"Before that." Her face went red but she didn’t look away. "When we were training. When you wouldn’t stay down no matter how many times I knocked you on your ass. You were different then."

She leaned down until our noses almost touched. Her breath was warm against my lips.

"Maybe you’ve been holding out on me this whole time." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe there’s more to your Aspect than what you showed Dr. Weber today."

My heart hammered against my ribs. She was too close. Too warm. Too fucking perceptive for someone who was supposed to be the impulsive explosive type.

"What if there is?" I asked, testing the waters.

Her eyes searched mine. "Then I’d want to know why you didn’t trust me enough to tell me."

The Oracle Feed notification appeared again.

〘 Temptation Gauge Update: Sloane Fitzgerald - 60% (+1%) - DEVOTED THRESHOLD REACHED

Subject emotional state: Conflicted attachment. Jealousy of information asymmetry competing with protective instinct. Physical positioning indicates desire for intimacy masked as confrontation.

Warning: Devoted stage subjects prioritize host wellbeing over personal comfort. Emotional vulnerability window detected. 〙

Sixty percent. She hit Devoted while pinning me to my bed and demanding to know my secrets.

The System really had a sick sense of humor.

"I trust you," I said, and meant it more than she could possibly know. "But some things are complicated to explain. Some things are still developing and I don’t fully understand them yet."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that sometimes when I use my Aspect, I feel like there’s more there than just moving objects around." The lie mixed with truth smoothly. "Like there’s potential I haven’t tapped into yet. Your mom recognized that. Dr. Weber recognized that. The Force Manipulation classification gives me room to grow into whatever my Aspect actually is."

Sloane’s expression softened slightly. "So you’re not hiding some crazy secondary power from me?"

"Nothing I’m aware of," I said, which was technically true if you didn’t count Blitz, Boundless Stamina, False Data, Dampen, Sexercise, and the Faceless Veil currently sitting in my inventory.

She studied my face for a long moment, then slowly released my wrists.

"Fine," she said. "But if you develop something new, I want to know about it. Immediately."

"Deal."

She didn’t move off my lap. Her hands rested on my chest now, her weight settling more comfortably against me. The interrogation was over but she wasn’t leaving.

"Dinner’s probably ready," I said.

"Probably."

Neither of us moved.

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