My Scumbag System Chapter 658: An Important Day

I held Natalia for a long time.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. The bond hummed between us, carrying emotions that words would only cheapen. Her fingers traced patterns on my chest, following the lines of muscle that six months of brutal training had carved into flesh that used to be soft and useless.

Eventually, she pulled back.

"Your mother is downstairs. Probably crying into her teacup and pretending she’s fine."

"She’s not the crying type."

"Everyone’s the crying type when they learn their son is a cosmic experiment designed by an eldritch horror." Natalia’s voice was dry, but her eyes were wet. "Trust me. I’ve been crying into my pillow for three days straight while you were off kissing other women."

"That’s different."

"Is it?"

I didn’t have a good answer to that.

Natalia shifted on the bed, her silk nightgown riding up her thighs in ways that my exhausted brain still registered with interest. Even after everything. Even with the weight of the universe pressing down on my shoulders. Natalia Kuzmina in black silk was a sight that transcended cosmic horror.

"The integration," she said. "You’re still planning to do it."

"I have to."

"You don’t have to do anything."

"If I don’t, the entity wins by default. It designed me for a purpose. I can either fulfill that purpose on my terms or let it use me like a puppet." I met her eyes. "You know which option I’m choosing."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she reached up and cupped my face in both hands.

"Three days. No contact. Not even through the bond."

"I know."

"I’m going to go insane."

"You’ll survive."

"I’m going to kill something. Probably multiple somethings."

"I’ll arrange targets."

She laughed despite herself. A small, broken sound that held more affection than any declaration of love.

"You’re impossible."

"That’s the consensus."

She pulled me down onto the bed. Not for sex. We were both too exhausted for that. But she curled against me, her head on my chest, her body pressed along the length of mine like she was trying to memorize every point of contact.

"When?" she asked.

"Soon. Before whoever sent that message about Helena decides to escalate."

"You think the entity sent it?"

"I think someone with access to impossible information is playing a game I don’t understand yet. Could be the entity. Could be my father. Could be someone else entirely."

"That’s not comforting."

"Comfort is for people who aren’t cosmic weapons."

She pinched my side hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Don’t joke about that."

"Who’s joking?"

We lay in silence, listening to the house settle around us. Somewhere below, I heard my mother’s footsteps moving from the kitchen to her bedroom. The soft click of a door closing.

She knew now.

Everything.

And she had chosen to love me anyway.

I didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve Natalia. Didn’t deserve any of the women who had tied their fates to mine.

But deserving had never been the point.

Survival was the point.

Victory was the point.

And if I had to drag myself through hell to protect the people I loved, then hell better prepare itself for company.

Sleep came eventually. Dark and dreamless.

For once, nothing watched from the edges of my consciousness.

Morning arrived with the smell of bacon.

My mother’s cooking. The same breakfast she had made every Sunday for as long as I could remember. The same ritual of domesticity that had anchored my childhood, even when everything else was falling apart.

Some things didn’t change.

Even when everything else did.

I extracted myself from Natalia’s grip without waking her. She murmured something about five more minutes and burrowed deeper into the blankets, her purple hair spread across the pillow like a spilled inkwell.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

Mine.

I showered quickly. Dressed in simple clothes. Made my way downstairs to face whatever version of my mother awaited me in the aftermath of last night’s revelations.

She stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with the same relaxed competence she applied to everything. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her apron was decorated with cartoon cats wearing chef hats.

She looked exactly like she always looked.

Like nothing had changed.

"Sit down, sweetie. Breakfast is almost ready."

"Mom."

"I said sit."

The tone brooked no argument. I sat.

She served me a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit. The same breakfast she had made for every important day of my life. First day of school. Birthday mornings. The day I had finally confessed about Natalia.

Apparently "learning your son is a cosmic experiment" qualified as an important day.

"Eat."

"We should talk about last night."

"We will. After you eat." She sat across from me with her own plate, considerably smaller than mine. "You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days."

"I had street food in Meridian City."

"Street food is not a proper meal. Street food is what you eat when you’re too busy making poor decisions to take care of yourself."

I couldn’t argue with that.

We ate in silence for several minutes. The food was excellent, as always. My mother’s cooking was one of the few constants in a life that had become anything but constant.

Finally, she set down her fork.

"I’ve been thinking."

"About?"

"About what you told me last night. About the entity. The integration. The choice I apparently made twenty-three years ago that I don’t remember making."

I waited.

"I don’t remember the laboratory. I don’t remember the electrodes or the Gate or the failed transfer. But I remember the dreams." She folded her hands on the table. "And in the dreams, there’s always a moment of choice. A threshold. Something vast on the other side, offering me something I can’t quite understand."

"What do you choose?"

"I always wake up before I choose. That’s what I thought, anyway. But now I’m wondering if waking up was the choice." She met my eyes. "Maybe I chose to come back. Maybe I chose humanity over whatever was being offered. And maybe that choice is why I can’t remember anything else."