My Scumbag System Chapter 487: Post-Traumatic Stress Massage

Isabelle made me handle the Gate report myself, citing a fabricated need for me to 'learn proper documentation procedures.' All the while, she leaned against the wall, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. I was certain she was enjoying my struggle with VHC bureaucracy, meticulously cataloging every minor slip-up for her ever-growing mental file on me.

"You neglected section 8-C," she stated, a perfectly manicured finger tapping the tablet. "Estimated monster population density."

"How in the hell am I supposed to know that?" I grumbled, scrolling back up the screen. "I didn't exactly take a census of every single bug in the dungeon."

"Approximately twenty-three," she supplied instantly. "And the Boss entity, of course."

I met her gaze, unimpressed. "You actually counted them?"

"I always count," she replied, as if the act was as fundamental as breathing.

The return ferry trip to the Academy was subdued, a silent journey filled with our individual contemplations. My thoughts were preoccupied with devising ingenious escape plans should her suspicions ever lead her to corner me. Her own mind, I suspected, was occupied with intricate calculations, attempting to reconcile my conflicting narratives.

We arrived at the Academy pier shortly after midday. The sun blazed relentlessly, transforming the white stone pathways into shimmering ribbons of intense heat. Students, clad in their various guild colors, were scattered about, many casting second glances in my direction as we passed.

Nel's voice echoed playfully in my mind.

Isabelle paused at the junction where the path diverged towards the administrative building. "Thank you for your assistance today, Nakano," she said.

"Anytime." It wasn't entirely untrue. Despite her unnerving perceptiveness, fighting alongside someone so highly capable was, in fact, rather refreshing.

Her wine-red eyes held mine for another moment of keen evaluation. "Be cautious of your actions," she advised finally. "All secrets carry a burden, and yours appear exceptionally weighty."

Before I could offer a retort, she turned and departed, her posture impeccable, as if an invisible string were drawing her spine skyward.

Nel offered a commentary.

I proceeded towards Onyx House, my body protesting with aches but still functional. The dorm building stood before me, a stark, brutalist concrete structure that had, over the past few months, begun to feel like a semblance of home. Midway across the courtyard, my eyes fell upon a familiar silhouette leaning against the entrance.

Skylar uncoiled as she noticed me, her violet eyes narrowing slightly. She wore black shorts that showcased long, toned legs, and a loose purple tank top emblazoned with the Onyx Hounds logo. Her headphones rested around her neck, a customary accessory.

"You," she declared as I drew nearer, "owe me dessert."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. I'm craving ice cream, and I want to hear all about your little escapade with the Queen." She fell into step beside me as we entered the building. "Did she try to draft you onto her philosophical debate team or something equally absurd?"

"We just completed a Gate run," I stated, heading towards the stairs. "A standard C-Rank. Nothing particularly noteworthy."

"And yet, you reek of a recent skirmish."

I glanced at her. At times, I overlooked just how keen Skylar's senses were, rivaling even Soomin's. "A boss encounter at the end. The usual."

She hummed a noncommittal tune as we reached my floor. "So, you're unharmed? No critical injuries requiring Emi's concerned attention?"

"I'm fine." I paused at my doorway. "Give me a moment to shower, and then we'll go get your ice cream."

"Deal. You have precisely fifteen minutes." She turned towards her own room. "And you're paying."

I unlocked my door, anticipating Maki's presence, likely in some state of suggestive undress, but the room was empty. This was unusual. My familiar usually remained within arm's reach unless explicitly assigned elsewhere.

The shower offered immense relief to my fatigued muscles. The hot water sluiced away the dried sweat and dust from the Gate, and I took the opportunity to inspect the lingering damage. A significant purple contusion had bloomed across my right shoulder blade from my impact with the crystal formation, but thankfully, nothing was fractured. My Kinetic Absorption and Steel Body skills had proven effective.

Nel mused silently as I toweled off.

"I am absolutely not taking spear-fighting lessons from Isabelle," I declared, pulling on a fresh set of clothes. "She already suspects far too much as it is."

"And you're an utter nuisance to me."

A knock sounded on my door just as I finished dressing. Expecting Skylar, I opened it to find Natalia instead, her violet eyes burning with intensity.

"You undertook a Gate run without informing me," she stated bluntly, pushing past me into the room. "And with Isabelle Okoye, no less."

I closed the door, steeling myself for the impending outburst. "A pleasant afternoon to you too, Nat."

"Don't 'Nat' me." She spun around, a visible frost gathering at her fingertips. "What were you thinking? You faced Reyna just yesterday. Your body requires recuperation."

"It was a C-Rank mission. Hardly a strenuous exertion."

"That is not the core issue!" Frost spread across the floor from her position. "The central problem is that you neglected to inform me."

With my arms crossed, I leaned against the doorway. "I wasn't aware I required your authorization."

That was a misstep. The room's temperature plunged dramatically.

"Authorization?" Her voice dropped to a dangerous quiet. "You believe this situation pertains to permission?"

I let out a sigh, uncrossing my arms and moving a step closer to her. "No, that's not my perception. I understand you were concerned."

"Concern is an insufficient descriptor." She advanced, thrusting a finger towards my chest. "I awoke to find you absent. Celeste was in your bed—"

"She was merely sleeping—"

"Your details are irrelevant!" The frost momentarily receded. "My concern stems from discovering your disappearance this morning, especially after witnessing your near-fatal encounter yesterday. Nobody knew your whereabouts. Then Emi eventually revealed you had undertaken a Gate expedition with Isabelle, of all people."

I intercepted her wrist, gently dislodging her finger from my sternum. "My apologies, alright? It was a spontaneous decision. She extended an invitation, and I accepted."

Natalia's eyes narrowed. "What prompted her to select you specifically?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps she was impressed by my duel with Reyna."

"Or perhaps she harbors suspicions," Natalia stated, echoing my own disquietude. "She observes meticulously, analyzes everyone. She poses a significant threat, Satori."

"I am aware of that."

"Are you truly?" She scrutinized my face. "Because you persist in courting unnecessary perils. The Hydra incident, Reyna, and now participating in Gate runs with an individual who could potentially jeopardize all we have established."

My hand still clasped her wrist, and I utilized the grip to draw her nearer. "I am exercising caution."

"No, you are not," she countered, though she did not resist the pull. "Your actions are reckless, your demeanor arrogant, and—"

I closed the distance with a kiss. Partly to silence her pronouncements, and partly because the flush of anger on her cheeks was a potent distraction. For an instant, she remained stiff, still incensed, but then she yielded against me, her free hand reaching up to clutch my hair with almost painful intensity.

When we broke apart, her breathing was ragged, her pupils still wide with a mixture of fury and a deeper emotion, her chest heaving in a manner that complicated any attempt at damage control.

"I detest you," she breathed, but the declaration lacked any genuine force.

"That's not true." I released her wrist, allowing my hands to settle instead on the flare of her hips—familiar territory now, a possessive claim I could assert without conscious thought.

"Very well." She exhaled through her nose. "However, my anger towards you remains unabated."

"I understand." I pressed my forehead against hers, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her flushed skin. "I should have at least conveyed a message. Left some indication so you wouldn't endure a morning of distress."

"Indeed. You ought to have done so." She drew back just enough to meet my gaze properly, her hands sliding up to grasp my shoulders. Her expression shifted instantaneously, her eyes narrowing. "You are injured."

"Merely sore," I replied, perhaps too swiftly. "I was propelled into a stone pillar during the altercation. It is inconsequential."

The concern in her eyes solidified into something sharper—that distinct fusion of anger and possessiveness that invariably tightened my chest. "Remove your shirt."

"Natalia, I am quite well—"

"Satori."

I knew better than to contest when she adopted that particular tone. I pulled the hoodie over my head, then shed the shirt beneath, exposing the extent of the damage. The sharp indrawn breath from her confirmed it appeared more severe than my discomfort suggested.

"Merely sore," she echoed flatly, her fingers hovering just above the extensive purple-black contusion that encircled my left side like a formidable band. When she finally made contact, her touch was astonishingly gentle, tracing the outer perimeter of the discoloration with a meticulousity that spoke of both care and clinical assessment. "This indicates blunt force trauma. High impact. Your ribs could have been fractured."

"Yet, they were not."

"That is hardly the triumph you perceive it to be," she murmured, but her touch remained delicate as she palpably assessed the affected area. "At the very least, nothing feels fractured."

"As I informed you."

She tugged my shirt back into place. "Convene upon the bed. Orient yourself towards the wall."

I raised an eyebrow but complied, settling onto the edge of the mattress. "What are you—"

"Silence, and remain still."

The mattress depressed as she ascended behind me. Then, her hands were upon my shoulders, thumbs digging into the taut muscles with surprising force.

"Good heavens," I groaned as she located a particularly tenacious knot of tension.

"You are in disarray," she stated, working methodically across my upper back, exercising caution to avoid the afflicted area. "When did you last engage in proper stretching?"

"Uncertain. Perhaps prior to the tournament preparations?"

She emitted a sound of displeasure. "Fool. It is no wonder you are so tense."