Picking Up Girls With My Pickup System-Chapter 10: Shadows Of Retaliation.

The hallway buzzed with the usual between-period chaos—lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking against linoleum, the endless chatter of a hundred half-heard conversations. Kent kept his head down, clutching his bag like a shield.

But today, something was different.

As he passed, heads turned. Not all of them—but enough to notice. Two juniors near the water fountain whispered and shot him quick, amused glances. A couple of guys he’d never spoken to nudged each other, grinning. And—God help him—one girl actually smirked at him as he shuffled past.

Kent’s chest tightened. Were they laughing at him or—?

Ding!

The familiar overlay blinked into view:

[Reputation +3 acknowledged.]

[New Social Opportunities unlocked.]

Kent blinked rapidly, shaking his head like he could rattle the screen away. Social opportunities? What was that even supposed to mean?

"Yo, Gilbert."

The voice made his stomach drop.

Two of Derek’s friends leaned against the lockers a few feet ahead, arms crossed, expressions sharp with quiet menace. One of them mimed adjusting an invisible helmet, grinning cruelly. The other cracked his knuckles.

Kent slowed, his sneakers dragging against the floor. For a second, he considered ducking into a random classroom, pretending he had somewhere to be.

But before he could decide, the System chimed again, almost cheerfully:

[Notice: Your actions have gained attention. Positive and negative reputation now coexist.]

[Caution: With attention comes danger.]

Kent swallowed hard, throat dry.

The whispers around him weren’t just about amusement. Some were admiration. Others, hungry for drama. And in the shadows, Derek’s friends looked ready to make good on every whispered threat.

Kent forced himself past Derek’s two friends, pretending he didn’t notice the way they tracked him like vultures eyeing roadkill. His palms were damp, his backpack strap slippery in his grip.

Just get to class. Just get to class.

"Hey, Gilbert."

The voice was warm, feminine, cutting through the tension like a bell. Kent stopped in his tracks.

Standing in front of him, arms folded, was Lena Moretti.

Sunlight from the windows framed her brown hair, catching faint golden streaks. She leaned casually against a locker like she owned the hallway. Half the guys in school probably thought she did.

Kent blinked, words jamming up in his throat. "L—Lena."

She arched an eyebrow. "So you do talk. Thought you were mute until today."

His mouth went dry. "I, uh..."

She smirked, the corner of her lips curling upward. "You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Nobody mouths off to Derek. Not unless they’ve got a death wish."

Kent wanted to crawl into the floor. But then the System screen pinged into existence:

[New Mission: Impress Lena with a confident conversation.]

[Reward: +5 Reputation. Charm Bonus applied.]

[Failure: -2 Reputation. Confidence penalty.]

His eyes widened. The System wasn’t even pretending to give him a break anymore.

Lena tilted her head, studying him. "So, tell me, Gilbert... was that all luck, or do you actually have a tongue sharp enough to back it up?"

Kent froze, staring at her, mind blank. His instincts screamed to stammer or run. But Quick Wit (Lv.2) pulsed at the edge of his vision, waiting to kick in.

He swallowed, lifted his chin, and tried to force something—anything—out of his mouth that wouldn’t sound like an idiot.

******

The locker room smelled of sweat, cheap deodorant, and metal. Derek slammed his locker shut so hard the sound rang out like a gunshot.

"Did you see their faces?" he barked, pacing the row. "Laughing at me—at me—because of that scrawny little bug."

One of his friends, Marcus, leaned back against a bench, smirking uneasily. "Yeah, but don’t sweat it, man. Everyone knows you own this place. He just got lucky with a comeback, that’s all."

Derek spun on him, eyes blazing. "Lucky? You think I got clowned by luck?"

The room went quiet. His crew exchanged glances. No one wanted to be the one to say the wrong thing.

Finally, another friend, tall and broad-shouldered, spoke carefully. "So... what do you want to do about it?"

Derek’s lips curled into something sharp and ugly. He ripped his football helmet out of his locker and slammed it down on the bench, hard enough to make the metal frame shudder.

"I don’t just want to beat him," Derek growled. "Anyone can throw a punch. No. I’m gonna break him."

The word break hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.

Marcus chuckled nervously. "So... after school?"

Derek’s eyes narrowed. "After school. But not just fists. I want him to wish he never opened his mouth."

His crew laughed, though it was the uneasy kind—more loyalty than joy.

Derek sat down, lacing his cleats with deliberate force, every motion tight with fury.

"Gilbert thinks he’s clever," he muttered. "We’ll see how clever he is when he’s choking on his own teeth."

******

Kent dropped into his desk, still rattled from his conversation with Lena. He replayed every second of it—her smirk, her words, the fact that she even looked at him. It felt unreal.

For once, he wasn’t invisible.

He cracked open his notebook, pretending to focus. That’s when a small folded square of paper slid across his desk.

He blinked, glancing around. Nobody looked his way. The classroom buzzed with chatter, the teacher not yet arrived.

Cautiously, he unfolded it.

Scrawled in thick black marker were three words:

"Dead after school."

Kent’s stomach lurched. His hands shook so badly he nearly tore the paper.

No, no, no. This is bad.

Ding!

The System’s glowing overlay flickered into place:

[Survival Mission Unlocked: Avoid Derek’s Retribution.]

[Options Available:]

(A) Run away after school.

(B) Seek protection.

(C) Confront Derek.

Kent’s eyes darted over the choices, heart hammering.

Run? He could. Just disappear, take the long way home, maybe hole up in a library until late. But what if Derek’s crew waited?

Seek protection? Who? A teacher? Another student? Asking for help would mark him as weak, and Derek would never let that go.

Confront Derek? His throat tightened. That was suicide.

And yet, the System didn’t let him close the mission. The options pulsed like a heartbeat, demanding he decide.

Kent crumpled the note in his fist, sweat slicking his palm.

The classroom door opened, and the teacher strolled in. Around him, the normal hum of school life resumed, but Kent couldn’t hear a thing.

All he could hear was Derek’s earlier whisper echoing in his skull:

Enjoy your little moment. It’s the last one you’re getting.

And now, the System agreed.