My Scumbag System-Chapter 405: My Sister’s Variables

I thought about Natalia’s ice spreading through our room. Skylar’s knife against my throat in the dark. Emi’s healing hands on my chest. Soomin’s fox eyes glowing blue.

I thought about Raphael’s barely contained rage and Juan’s lazy genius and Isabelle’s quiet calculations.

I thought about the conspiracy trying to kill us and the gods watching for entertainment and Apollo’s cryptic warnings about the Director.

"No," I lied smoothly. "I’m excited."

Cel’s fingers twitched against mine.

"Excited," Sterling echoed. "Not nervous at all?"

"Should I be?"

"The Argent Sentinels are gunning for you specifically. Julian Valerius has made that very clear in his interviews."

"Julian talks a lot. It’s one of his less endearing qualities."

"He also has the backing of one of the wealthiest families in Valoria."

"Money doesn’t win fights. Skill does."

"And you think the Onyx Hounds have more skill?"

"I know we do."

The audience roared approval.

Sterling glanced at his producer, who signaled from behind the cameras. "We’re almost out of time, but I have one last question. For both of you."

He paused for dramatic effect.

The cameras zoomed in.

"If you could go back and choose not to enter that Black Gate, knowing what you know now about what you’d face inside, would you?"

Cel answered first. "No. I would not change it."

"Why not?"

"Because the experience taught me something important about who I am and who I want to become. I spent my entire life being told what to do and where to go and how to be. In that Gate, I made my own choices. I fought for my own survival. And I discovered that I am stronger than anyone believed."

The audience clapped.

Sterling turned to me. "And you?"

I looked at Cel.

She looked back.

"No," I said. "I wouldn’t change it either."

"Because?"

"Because some things are worth the scars."

The studio went quiet for a heartbeat.

Then the applause started, building until it shook the walls.

Sterling stood, signaling the end of the interview. "Ladies and gentlemen, Satori Nakano and Celeste Vance. Give them one more round of applause."

The crowd obliged.

The cameras panned across the audience before cutting to commercial.

The moment the red light on the main camera went dark, I felt Cel relax beside me.

"That was horrible," she muttered.

"You did great."

"I nearly vomited twice."

"Nobody noticed."

Sterling approached, all smiles and professional charm. "Fantastic interview, you two. Absolutely fantastic. The chemistry is off the charts."

"Thanks," I said, standing carefully. My ribs protested.

Cel stood with me, her hand still holding mine.

Sterling noticed. "You know the cameras are still recording backstage footage, right?"

"I’m aware."

"And you’re still holding hands."

"Your point?"

Sterling’s grin returned. "No point. Just an observation. The internet’s going to have a field day with this."

A production assistant appeared with clipboards. "Mr. Nakano, Ms. Vance, we need you to sign some release forms for the footage."

I signed without reading.

Cel actually read hers before signing, which made the assistant look mildly panicked about the time delay.

We made our way through the backstage maze toward the exit. People stopped us every few feet. Crew members wanting selfies. Other guests waiting for their segments. A woman who claimed to run a fan account dedicated to "Saleste," which was apparently what the shippers were calling us now.

Cel handled it with grace, smiling and nodding and saying the right things.

I mostly just tried not to look as exhausted as I felt.

The car waited outside.

Not the academy transport, but an actual VHC vehicle with tinted windows and a driver who didn’t make small talk.

Noah sat in the front passenger seat, her blonde hair pulled back severely and her eyes scanning the street before we even opened the door.

"How did it go?" she asked as we slid into the back.

"Terribly," Cel said.

"She was perfect," I corrected.

"He was infuriating."

"I was charming."

Noah’s lips twitched. "The internet seems to agree with him."

She held up her phone.

The screen showed a live feed of trending topics. #Saleste occupied the number one spot, followed by #BlackGateSurvivors and #StrayDogProtectsHisPrincess.

Cel made a sound of distress. "That nickname is awful."

"Which one? Stray Dog or Princess?"

"Both."

The driver pulled into traffic.

I watched the city lights blur past the window, feeling the weight of the interview settling over me like a wet blanket.

Nel had been suspiciously quiet during the whole thing. No sarcastic commentary, no quest notifications, no divine interference.

Just me and Cel and Sterling’s loaded questions.

The car’s interior smelled like leather and Cel’s perfume, that winter flowers scent that I’d started associating with her.

"Do you think we helped or hurt?" she asked quietly.

I turned to look at her. "Helped what?"

"The situation. The speculation. The rumors."

"Does it matter?"

"It might. My sister will see the footage. She will have opinions."

"Your sister always has opinions."

"This is different." Cel’s fingers twisted together in her lap. "Seraphina values control above all else. My personal life, my friendships, my romantic interests—they are all variables in her equations. Seeing me with you, seeing how the audience responded, it will concern her."

I reached over and covered her hands with mine, stilling the nervous movement.

"Let her be concerned."

"You do not understand. When Seraphina is concerned, people disappear."

"I’m hard to disappear."

"You are also impossible," Cel said, but she didn’t pull her hands away.

Noah glanced back at us through the rearview mirror, her expression unreadable.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence.

When we arrived at the ferry terminal, a small crowd had already gathered. Students from other guilds, mostly. Some looked curious, others hostile.

I spotted a cluster of Sentinels near the ticket booth.

Julian wasn’t with them, but Aaron Sanders was, and his expression could have curdled milk.

"Ignore them," Noah advised as we walked past.

I had no intention of doing anything else.

The ferry ride back to the Atoll took an hour.

Cel spent most of it on her phone, responding to messages from people I didn’t know.

I spent it watching the dark water and thinking about the tournament.

Five weeks.

Five weeks until every guild in the academy tried to tear us apart on live broadcast.