My Scumbag System No Chapter 34: My Parents are Home and I’m Shirtless With My St

Chapter 34: My Parents are Ho and I’m Shirtless With My Stepsister, What Could Go Wrong?

I woke to sunlight stabbing through my eyelids like tiny, persistent daggers. My body felt heavy, saturated with the aftermath of deep sleep. Every muscle sang with a pleasant ache that told stories of the night before. I stretched with a low groan, my arms reaching over my head until my joints popped.

The bed beside

was empty, the sheets cool to the touch but still carrying the faint, sweet scent of Natalia’s shampoo. I ran my palm over the depression where Natalia had slept, a small smirk tugging at my lips.

"So the princess snuck back to her room," I murmured to the empty air. "Shy, are we?"

I sat up slowly, running a hand through my ssy red hair. The condo wasn’t silent as I’d expected. The low murmur of a television drifted in from the living room, punctuated by the distant clatter of pans. A rich, savory sll wafted under my door – bacon and eggs.

My stomach rumbled in eager response, but my brain was still moving at half-speed. I glanced at my status screen, noting the faint golden glow around my MYSTICISM trait. At least that hadn’t been a dream.

"I need to buy a terrarium for an immortal snail," I said to myself, rubbing my face. "My life is a fucking joke."

A quick check of my phone showed it was nearly 10 AM. I’d slept longer than usual, probably thanks to the new trait enhancing my recovery. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and my bladder gave an urgent reminder of its existence.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and decided against a shirt. Let her get another look. After the way she’d lted under my hands last night, I had a feeling she wouldn’t complain.

I padded barefoot down the hallway toward the kitchen, guided by the sll of breakfast and the soft sounds of movent. The living room was empty, the television playing so morning news program about another Gate Break in the Financial District.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, the sight that greeted

stopped

dead in my tracks. Natalia was there, bent over with her head deep in the refrigerator. She wore a cropped t-shirt that rode up her back, but what commanded my attention were the incredibly short, tight sleep shorts that hugged every curve of her ass. The fabric strained as she leaned further into the fridge, mumbling sothing about orange juice.

My mouth went dry. Images from last night flashed through my mind – her writhing beneath , gasping, begging. The sounds she’d made when I’d—

"Co on, I know we have so in here sowhere," she muttered, oblivious to my presence.

I moved silently across the kitchen. Without a single coherent thought, my hand ca up and delivered a loud, sharp SMACK right on the perfect curve of her left ass cheek.

The sound echoed in the quiet kitchen like a gunshot.

"KYAAAA!"

In the next instant, a wave of invisible force slamd into

with the subtlety of a freight train. My feet left the ground as Natalia’s telekinesis caught

square in the chest, throwing

backward across the kitchen. I hit the opposite wall with a sickening CRUNCH, knocking the wind from my lungs before sliding down to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

"FUCKING—OW!" I groaned. D-rank strength or not, being telekinetically bitch-slapped into a wall hurt like hell.

Natalia spun around, her face flushed crimson, one hand clutching the refrigerator door and the other on her hip. Her violet eyes were wide, her mouth open in a perfect ’O’ of shock. She stared at

crumpled against the wall, and for a mont, I thought she might hit

again.

Then, a snort escaped her. It was followed by a giggle, and suddenly she was leaning against the fridge, laughing – a genuine, beautiful sound of pure amusent.

"Are you okay?" she asked between giggles, her free hand covering her mouth in a failed attempt to stifle her laughter.

I glared up at her, rubbing my shoulder. "What do you think? You just threw

into a wall, you psycho."

Her laughter intensified. "You slapped my ass! What did you expect?"

"A little gratitude would be nice," I grumbled, pulling myself to my feet with as much dignity as I could muster. "After last night, I thought we were past the ’launching

into walls’ stage of our relationship."

Natalia’s laughter cut off abruptly, her cheeks darkening. "About that... we should probably talk—"

"Wait," I interrupted, finally noticing the subtle tension at the corners of her eyes. "What’s wrong?"

"I was trying to warn you," she hissed, suddenly all business. "Our parents are—"

A loud CRASH from the living room cut her off, followed by a woman’s shocked gasp.

"Baby...?" a soft, unfamiliar voice called out.

My blood turned to ice in my veins.

I turned my head slowly, wincing at the pain in my neck. Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room was a beautiful woman with the sa fiery red hair as the body I inhabited. Her eyes held a mixture of shock and dawning recognition as they traveled from my face down to my transford physique.

"Satori... is that you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

For the first ti, I was face-to-face with Kimiko Nakano. The mother of the boy I replaced.

I had no fra of reference for this. Kaelen Leone never had parents. Kaelen Leone never had a mother who looked at him with such... hope? Pride? Love?

My throat closed up. My mind raced for a script, for the right persona to slip into, but I ca up empty.

"Mom," I managed. "You’re... back early."

Kimiko stood frozen, her hand still covering her mouth. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, until she was standing directly in front of . Her hand reached up, trembling slightly, and touched my cheek.

"Look at you," she whispered. "What happened to my little boy?"

Before I could answer, heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway, and a mountain of a man appeared behind Kimiko. Luka Kuzmina was even more imposing in person than in the mories I’d inherited. Standing well over six feet tall with shoulders broad enough to fill the doorfra, he looked like he could bench press a car. His brown hair was cut in a practical, military style, and his eyes—warm brown—widened as they landed on .

"Holy shit!" he bood, his voice filling the kitchen. "Is that really you, kiddo?"

I stood rooted to the spot, unsure how to respond. In my past life, people looked at

with fear or deference. Never with this... naked affection.

"Hi... Dad," I tried, the word even stranger than the first.

Luka’s face split into a broad grin. He crossed the kitchen in three great strides and, before I could react, wrapped

in a bear hug that lifted

off my feet. The air whooshed out of my lungs for the second ti that morning.

"Would you look at this!" he laughed, setting

down and holding

at arm’s length to examine . "You’re almost as jacked as your old man! When did this happen?"

"I... started working out," I said laly, my brain still struggling to process this hurricane of parental affection. "A few weeks ago."

"A few weeks?" Luka’s eyebrows shot up. "That’s so serious progress for just a few weeks, son!"

"Luka, let him breathe," Kimiko said, laying a gentle hand on her husband’s massive arm. Her eyes hadn’t left my face, studying every inch of

with an intensity that made

want to squirm. "Satori, honey, we weren’t expecting... this."

I forced a smile. "Surprise?"

Kimiko laughed. "Surprise indeed! We thought we’d co ho early and take you kids to brunch, but I see you’ve been busy with... other changes."

Her eyes darted aningfully to Natalia, who stood awkwardly by the refrigerator, her face still flushed from our earlier encounter.

"Hey, Daddy," Natalia said, her voice strangled. "Kimiko. Welco ho."

Luka’s grin widened as he turned to his daughter. "There’s my girl! Co here!"

Natalia allowed herself to be swept into a hug, though her eyes remained fixed on

over Luka’s shoulder. The ssage was clear: We are so fucked.

"So," Kimiko said, her gaze moving between Natalia and

with a mother’s uncanny intuition. "What have you two been up to while we were gone? Anything interesting happen?"

"Nothing!" Natalia blurted out, too quickly. "Just studying for the entrance exams. Boring stuff."

"And I’ve been training," I added. "Working on... self-improvent."

Luka clapped a hand on my shoulder, nearly buckling my knees. "Well, whatever you’ve been doing, it’s working! You look like a completely different person, son!"

You have no idea.

"Thanks," I said, managing a more genuine smile this ti. There was sothing disarmingly likable about Luka’s straightforward enthusiasm.

"I’m making breakfast," Natalia interjected, clearly desperate to change the subject. "Eggs and bacon. Do you want so?"

"We’d love so!" Kimiko said, finally releasing

from her scrutiny. "But first, I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing, Satori. Last ti we talked, you were... well, let’s just say less motivated."

She gestured to the living room. "Co sit with . Let’s catch up while Natalia and Luka handle breakfast."

My heart rate spiked. One-on-one ti with my "mother" hadn’t been in the plan.

"Sure, Mom," I said, resigning myself to the inevitable. "Let’s catch up."

As Kimiko led

to the couch, her arm linked through mine in a gesture of maternal possession, I caught sight of Luka leaning down to whisper sothing to Natalia. Her face paled, then reddened spectacularly.

"So," Kimiko said as we sat down, her eyes searching mine with uncomfortable intensity. "Tell

everything."

[Your affection score with Kimiko Nakano has been initialized. Current standing: Neutral/Curious]

Oh, fuck .