Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine

Early Morning.

West District, Metro City.

The soft, muted light of the early morning peeled through the window blinds to cast pale stripes across the expected mess of Jake's room.

Cardboard boxes and instruction manuals lay scattered on the floor like abandoned ruins, surrounding him as he sat on the edge of his bed. His fingers moved with absolute ease as he slotted tiny golden pieces together as if assembling a mere jigsaw puzzle instead of a 14,000-piece model warship.

Each click of the pieces snapping into place echoed in the quiet room.

His eyes, however, were dull.

Like a youth who had completely lost all paths he could've taken in life—broken.

The ship's skeletal frame grew beneath his hands.

The intricacy and complexity of its golden hull—it was truly nothing like the emptiness in his eyes.

He placed another piece, exhaled slowly, and muttered.

"Sigh… this would be so much more fun if he was here with me. Bro…"

His voice barely stirred the air.

He turned his head as his tired eyes landed on a framed photo resting on the lampshade beside his bed.

It showed him and Scott, both beaming and clutching a trophy at an academic decathlon. Their smiles seemed to glow even in the dim room… like it was some ray of hope.

Or perhaps, a frozen memory of simpler times.

Next to it was another photo—this one of him, Scott, and Maya at a science fair.

The trio stood behind a detailed project display as they held a first-place ribbon between them. Jake's mind replayed the moment, the thrill of victory, the shared laughs, the way Maya would nudge him and ask what Scott liked or the best way to impress him.

He swallowed, his throat tight.

"She doesn't call me anymore… not about Scott… not about anything."

He set the half-built warship down as its delicate structure trembled slightly. His fingers lingered on the edge of the bed as he looked at the next photo.

A much older picture—him and Scott standing on either side of Gwen. She was noticeably taller as her mischievous little grin brightened up the frame. Her hands rested atop their heads as their scowls only made her smile wider.

A chuckle escaped him in a brief and fleeting manner.

Then his lips pressed into a thin line, and he fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

He raised his arm, reaching up, fingers spread as if he could touch the pale white above. His hand trembled slightly and his chubby arm was just a reminder of everything he thought was wrong with him.

"Hmm…"

He murmured difficulty.

"Ever since they disappeared… I've been going to the gym, trying to lose weight… Scott's out there, a famous, handsome celebrity… and me?"

His hand fell to his chest with a very soft thud against the worn fabric of his shirt.

"I'm just the guy whose best friend left him… because he didn't want to share the spotlight with a fat loser."

The words hung in the air, sharp and cold.

He flinched, as if they had cut into him, and yet he couldn't help but repeat them in his mind.

Over and over.

"No… no, that can't be right…"

He whispered as his voice cracked.

"Scott wouldn't… he wouldn't just leave me. Not like that. Not after everything."

He turned onto his side and curled into himself as his fingers clawed into the bedspread. His breaths came in shallow bursts, each one a struggle against the weight pressing down on his chest.

"There's no way… the only guy I've ever called my true friend and brother… there's no way he thinks I'm just a loser, right?"

His lips trembled.

"It's not the fame. Not the fortune… it can't be. He left months before he even got popular. There's… there's something else. There has to be."

Silence answered him.

Jake pulled the blanket over his shoulder.

To him, maybe it was a poor shield against the biting chill of loneliness.

"I've always known Scott was meant for something more… He's always been… different. Like… like an anomaly. Handsome, smart, gifted in science, and still athletic… it's almost impossible to understand how."

His face turned duller as the early light did nothing to soften the dark circles under his eyes. Sleep had become a stranger to him, replaced by late-night thoughts and the constant gnawing ache of what-ifs.

He reached for his phone and the screen lit up to reveal a sad and desperate cascade of missed calls and unanswered messages.

Scott—678 calls, 342 messages. Not a single reply.

Maya and Gwen were the same, though the numbers were smaller, to him… each unanswered text another stone added to the growing pile in his gut.

His thumb brushed over the call button, but he stopped.

What was the point?

His lips parted as a heavy sigh slipped out.

"I can't stand this..."

The warship sat half-built on his bedside table.

To him, it was the only lingering hope left.

A hope that, perhaps, one day, his phone would ring, and Scott's voice would greet him. That Maya would call, asking for advice. That Gwen would show up, taller and bolder than ever as he ruffled his hair like nothing had changed.

But until then, he remained there, surrounded by empty rooms and fading memories.

Slowly, Jake lifted himself from the bed.

"If I can't put myife together… then I can… sigh… I can at least try to put that warship together…"

He picked up one of the countless pieces.

"Scott or no Scott… I'll survive…"

He said it──but he desperately wanted to mean it.

"Back to work…"

The golden warship started taking shape again.

Each delicate piece clicked into place, and his hands moved with precision. His focus was razor-sharp, but his mind drifted far away—as if every snap of plastic was just a way to drown out the silence gnawing at him.

His room was full of half-built models, discarded building manuals, and weird hybrid-tech inventions that were all things he and Scott worked on together.

"Please… just answer me, man…"

A loud knock crashed through his silence.

"Jake!"

The door swung open before he could react.

His mother stood at the threshold with her somewhat slender yet muscular arms crossed as her face was the perfect blend of exhaustion and frustration.

Her eyes swept over the unmade bed, the disheveled hair, the untouched backpack hanging behind the door.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Jake…"

She said, sharper this time.

"How long have you been in here? Do you want to mess up your perfect attendance? School started an hour ago! What on earth are you still doing in bed?"

Jake's grip tightened on the golden piece in his hand.

The edges dug into his palm as his knuckles turned white.

He didn't look up, didn't even flinch, as if his mother's voice couldn't break through the fog around him.

"What if I don't feel like going today?"

His voice was low.

But it cut through the room with a quiet force.

"What did you just say?"

"I said… I don't care about those useless awards from something as crappy as perfect attendance. It's probably just gonna be some wacky plaque card made with zero thoughts that I'm supposed to appreciate because it has my damn name on it──well, I don't want it!"

His mother blinked.

Her strict demeanor faltered for a moment.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, as if wrestling with the right words.

Her son… her perfect son. The same boy who once sprinted to the school bus to avoid being late, who meticulously planned every project, who kept the company of bright, inspiring friends──he had never disobeyed her.

Not until now.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

Her initial instinct had been to launch into a tirade, to threaten to take away his consoles or action figures, but that wouldn't work here.

She could see it in his eyes.

Jake wasn't acting out of rebellion──this was really something deeper.

She stepped into the room to navigate the mess, then sat beside him on the bed.

The mattress sank slightly under her weight as she looked at him. Really looked at him.

His eyes were ringed with exhaustion.

His skin had lost its usual glow, and his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had settled on them.

She had noticed the change before—the heavy bags under his eyes, the way his smiles never quite reached them—but she had dismissed it.

She thought it was exams.

She thought he was studying too hard.

Now, she wasn't so sure.

Her arm slid over his shoulders, then she pulled him in.

"Alright…"

She spoke softly.

"Talk to me. What's going on? Why don't you want to maintain your perfect attendance anymore?"

Jake's frown deepened. His lips pulled into a thin line, and he let out a slow, frustrated breath.

"That's because I… I just don't give a fuck about perfect attendance anymore. Really."

The sharpness of his words made her flinch, but she stayed quiet, letting him speak.

"Scott doesn't maintain his perfect attendance." Enjoy new stories from My Virtual Library Empire

For some reason that mattered to him.

"He doesn't even go to school anymore…"

He wasn't sure──but he always searched every lab and class in school to see if he'd find him.

He stared at the half-built warship in his hands.

"And he's still a popular celebrity. Praised all over the internet and on the news for being handsome. School didn't do that for Scott, so why should I bother?"

Her fingers tightened on his shoulder.

She offered a gentle squeeze.

"Well…"

She said very carefully.

"Maybe because you're not Scott."

Jake's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean? That I'm not Scott or that I'm not as handsome as Scott?"

His voice cracked.

"Because that's both true. And, honestly, I wouldn't really feel offended if you thought that too."

She pulled him closer, pressing a small kiss to his temple.

"Oh, honey…"

She whispered very gently.

Like the young man before her was still her little baby boy that she'd cradle in her arms.

"There's no mother who doesn't see what they create as the most handsome thing in the world. To me, you're more handsome than any model."

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at Jake's lips.

His mother caught it as her own partly-wrinkled lips curled into a mischievous grin.

She tapped his head lightly with two fingers.

"Ahaaaahh──!!"

The mother giggled.

"I saw that! Ooooh, look at you. So handsome with that cute little smile on your teddy bear face!"

The smile broke through fully, and Jake let out a chuckle.

It was quiet, but it was real.

He stood, the bed springs creaking beneath him, and reached for his backpack. He slung it over one shoulder, then adjusted the strap as he looked at his mom.

"Well… I should get going."

His mom nodded as her expression softened.

"You should. And maybe…"

She brushed a hand through his hair, then set the strands into place.

"Maybe try to see today differently. It doesn't have to be perfect, but it can still be good."

Jake took a step toward the door as his hand rested gently on the knob. He paused, glanced back at her as his expression carried both gratitude and something more vulnerable—a vulnerability only a mother was allowed to see.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Thanks."

She winked at him dramatically.

"I gotchu, dawg."

Jake's lips twisted into a smirk.

He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, and for the first time in a long while he was alright.

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NOTE: I had to do this chapter ahead of the next because of the interaction Jake will have with the Pontiachs XD. I think this will be a very fun next few chapters, trust me!