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Chapter 138: My Scumbag Step-Brother Can’t Be This Dostic

The credits rolled on the action movie playing on my wall screen, casting faint blue light across my darkened room. So pre-Rupture garbage about cops and robbers that I’d stopped paying attention to an hour ago. I lay sprawled on a nest of pillows on the floor, my head and shoulders cradled between Natalia’s legs as she sat on my bed, her back against the headboard.

Her fingers moved through my hair in slow, hypnotic patterns, occasionally scratching my scalp in a way that made my entire body go slack. She wore my black tank top—stretched tight across her chest—and a pair of my gray sweatpants that hung low on her hips. The fabric bunched around her ankles where they were too long for her.

"You want

to put on another one?" I asked, voice low and lazy. The question was purely performative. I didn’t give a shit about watching another movie.

"Mmm," Natalia humd, not looking up from her phone. "Whatever."

I glanced up at her, taking in the view from my vantage point. Her face was illuminated by the glow of her screen, casting shadows that accentuated her high cheekbones and the elegant curve of her neck. My sweatpants rode dangerously low on her hips, revealing a sliver of smooth skin between the waistband and where my tank top had ridden up.

The dosticity of the mont struck

as absurd. Less than two months ago, this girl would’ve rather stepped into a Gate without an Aspect than touch . Now she was absentmindedly playing with my hair while wearing my clothes. Life really is fucking weird sotis.

I returned my attention to my own phone, where my SnapGram notifications continued their relentless assault. The follower count had passed 150,000 earlier today. Apparently, everyone wanted a piece of the "Stray Dog of NVA."

"Your adoring public still won’t shut up?" Natalia asked, her fingers finding a spot behind my ear that made my eyes flutter.

"It’s getting ridiculous," I muttered, scrolling through the feed. "People I’ve never t acting like we’re best friends. " I smirked.

"Girls sending pictures..."

"Show

those," Natalia demanded, her fingers montarily pausing their magic.

I laughed. "Just kidding."

Like it or not, "The Stray Dog" was becoming a minor celebrity in the Hunter world. Each post, each interaction, was another piece in the narrative I was building.

I tapped the screen, liking a surprisingly detailed fan art soone had drawn of .

"You’re getting quite the cult following," Natalia observed, resuming her gentle scratching. "The mysterious late-bloor with a secret fire inside."

"If only they knew," I murmured.

I continued my social dia rounds, dropping a simple "Good luck tomorrow" on a post from Leo Jett showing his pre-exam training regin. The kid seed decent enough, and making allies was never a bad move.

Then I ca across a new post from the Miyamoto twins. The photo showed them in matching workout outfits that left little to the imagination, their identical faces wearing identical coy smiles. The caption read: "Hoping to make a move ??"

After a mont’s consideration, I tapped like.

"You’re playing with fire, you know," Natalia said without looking up from her phone. "Akari and Hikari aren’t the types to share."

I tilted my head back against her thigh, looking up at her upside down. "It’s not about them. It’s about the narrative. A little rivalry keeps the audience engaged."

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Is that what I am to you? Part of your narrative?"

"You’re my queen," I replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "The others are just pawns."

She tried to maintain her annoyed expression, but I caught the slight curl at the corner of her mouth. "Charming bastard."

I turned back to my phone, continuing to scroll. A post from Julian Valerius caught my eye—him standing in what looked like a private training facility, surrounded by top-of-the-line equipnt. The caption read: "So dogs should be kept on a leash. See you at the exam, mutt."

I snorted and showed it to Natalia.

"He’s trying so hard," she said with a laugh. "It’s almost sad."

"The sad part is that he thinks this is intimidating." I put my phone down and closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasant sensation of Natalia’s fingers in my hair.

The constant tension that had been my companion since waking up in this body began to ease. I could feel the Kaelen part of —always alert, always ready for a knife in the back—begin to quiet down.

"Getting sleepy, my King?" Natalia asked, her voice softer than usual.

"Don’t stop," I murmured, my voice a low rumble.

Her fingers beca more deliberate, finding that perfect spot behind my ear that made my entire body go slack. "As you wish."

In this state of near-perfect relaxation, I decided to check in with my "sponsors." I focused inward, addressing the System.

Well, Nel? How’s the show? Is the audience enjoying the latest episode of ’My Scumbag Step-Brother Can’t Be This Dostic’?

A familiar cool voice responded in my mind.

[The Audience’s reaction is... mixed. A significant portion craves more conflict, more bloodshed. They grow impatient with these monts of "wholeso" developnt.]

And the other half? I prodded.

[The other half is eating this up. The shipping wars have already begun. Viewership retention during these "harem-building" segnts is unexpectedly high. My analysis suggests you are successfully cultivating a dedicated long-term audience, even at the cost of short-term spectacle.]

I almost smiled. Then another voice cut in—brighter, more aggressive.

[Warning from the Sponsor: Apollo] - Don’t get too comfortable, protagonist. This is "My Scumbag System," not "My Wholeso Harem." The gods paid to see a wolf, not a golden retriever.

Even a scumbag has a tight circle they care about. A wolf is nothing without its pack. Kaelen Leone had his crew. Satori Nakano has his.

Apollo’s response ca with the ntal equivalent of an eye roll. [ssage from the Sponsor: Apollo] - Just rember what happens to wolves that grow too complacent. They beco dogs.

And dogs get put down.

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