Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine - Chapter 124

Chapter 124: Hollywood’s Vixen
… November in Metro City

The city was blanketed under a gray, overcast sky.

The air was cold.

Surely, winter was approaching.

Scott adjusted the black turtleneck he had on as he stared into the full-length mirror in Emma’s extravagant walk-in closet.

The closet itself was larger than some apartments, with rows of tailored suits, racks of designer coats, and shelves lined with shoes polished to perfection.

But Scott only had eyes for his own reflection right now.

“Jeez…”

He muttered under his breath as he ran a hand through his messy dark hair.

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to sign a modeling contract today.”

His tone was conflicted.

Half disbelief, half reluctant acceptance.

“As cheesy as this whole thing feels for a guy… I guess it’s not always cheesy. I mean, some of the top male models do look pretty badass.”

He let out a deep sigh as his words bounced faintly off the ornate, gold-framed mirror.

Scott took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“Besides… this’ll be a good way to keep my identity as Nightwatch under wraps. Especially now that I’m officially a goddamn terrorist for refusing to sign that Hero Agency’s bullshit contract.”

His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened for a moment.

“They think they’ve got the monopoly on justice? Let’s see how they feel when I launch the Overwatch Agency. That name alone should put some fear in their spines.”

Satisfied with the fit of the turtleneck, he slipped into a sleek black trench coat, smoothing it out before giving himself another look in the mirror. The coat was tailored to perfection and gave him a clean, almost intimidating figure.

“Okay!”

He turned his head slightly to examine his skin.

“I swear, my skin already looks flawless. If these people try to slap some crappy facial cream on me for an ad, I’m walking out.”

He turned to leave, but just as his hand reached for the door handle, the System chimed in.

[It is recommended that you post a picture of his outfit on your Instaflick account. This will keep your fanbase engaged and attract high-paying brands that have not yet approached you.]

Scott froze, then cast a glance at his phone lying on a nearby drawer.

“Really?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Isn’t it enough that I’m actually doing this modeling thing? Now I’ve got to keep up appearances online too?”

But he knew the System was right.

Reluctantly, he picked up the phone, opened the camera app, and pointed it at the mirror. He struck a simple pose—nothing fancy, just enough to show off the trench coat and turtleneck combo.

He snapped the photo and sighed.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.”

He quickly typed out a caption:

[Big day ahead—signing my first modeling contract with BlueForce. Fingers crossed it goes well. Wish me luck!]

Within seconds, the picture was live.

Scott navigated to his profile page to glance at his stats:

400 following… 10 posts… and 5 million followers.

Not bad for an account he’d started just last week.

His bio was still embarrassingly plain—just:

[Model | Internet Personality.]

As simple as that.

“This whole thing feels so… unlike me…”

He muttered and shook his head.

“But I guess it makes sense. Scott McQueen and Nightwatch have to be two different people.”

Just as he was about to put his phone away, it started dinging loudly as notifications came in rapid succession.

“What the──?!”

Scott nearly dropped the device but managed to catch it as he glared at the screen.

“What’s with all these notifications?”

He opened Instaflick, and his eyes widened.

The picture he’d posted barely five minutes ago already had over 6,000 likes.

“Six thousand?” he said, incredulous. “That fast?”

Curious, he scrolled through the comments, and his expression turned from shock to bemusement.

[OMGGG. The way I RAN to like this post. 😭 Scott, you’re literally perfection!]

[And somehow people still argue that William Roosevelt is hotter than this man. Be for real. Look at him. Just LOOK.]

[No one’s beating this man this year. Not in looks, not in style, not in charm. He’s an angel in human form.]

[I’m straight, but damn. This man is something else.]

Scott blinked as his face heated up slightly.

“What the hell…?”

It didn’t stop there.

[Does anyone know what brand that coat is? I NEED IT.]

└ [It’s a black Burberry Kensington Trench Coat and it cost somewhere from $3000 to $3,500. I’m not sure about the turtleneck, but I think it’s a Ralph Lauren product. The shoes are definitely Allen Edmonds Park Avenue Oxfords, those cost almost a $1000 tbf 😳 Handsome and rich is a crazy combo!]

└ [😭 SO SCOTT’S BEEN RICH ALL THIS TIME?!]

└ [I need this man, kyaaaaa ^-^!!]

[This guy is ruining my marriage. My wife photoshopped his face onto mine in our family picture and called it the perfect family.]

└ [Damn 💀]

└ [My girl would never do that to me. Stay safe tho ✌️]

└ [She’s got taste, though. 😭🙏]

└ [LMAO bro just hand her divorce papers at this point.]

･･･

There were some troll comments too, but Scott noticed that his fans—mostly women—were fiercely defending him.

[Bro really thinks he’s all that. Calm down, you’re just a pretty face.]

└ [Do a face reveal real quick 👀…]

[Imagine being this pressed. Scott isn’t stealing your girl, your personality is.]

└ [He doesn’t even know who you are. 😭🙏]

└ [And? Don’t tag my comments again…]

[Y’all mad Scott’s hotter than you and can pull your girls. Stay mad, losers.]

･･･

Scott groaned, running a hand down his face.

“This is… a little too much, don’t you think?”

But deep down, he couldn’t help but smirk.

The cold November air seeped into the mansion as faint gusts whistled past the large windows.

Scott adjusted his trench coat one last time.

Now, the black ensemble hugged his figure perfectly.

“Scott!”

Emma’s voice carried through the halls.

“Those shoes you ordered just got here! You might want to try them—they’re much better than those sneakers you were thinking of!”

Scott leaned out of the closet doorway, shouting back.

“Alright! I wasn’t feeling the sneakers today anyway!”

He reached for his phone, ready to slide it into his back pocket, but a fresh notification lit up his screen.

[@OfficialBellaTrevors: Hmm~ You look so manly in those clothes 🤭. I’m already on my way to Metro City… hope you can pay me a visit ❤️]

Scott froze as his thumb hovered over the screen.

“Wait… Bella Trevors?”

His eyes darted back to the post.

Her comment already had over 3K likes in mere moments, while his entire post had just hit 10K likes.

“Why me?”

Scott groaned, exasperated, as he scrolled down to the flood of replies beneath Bella’s comment.

[Scott, don’t fall for her! She’s just here for the drama!]

[Bella’s a walking PR stunt. RUN.]

[Every woman needs to give up now. If Bella wants him, it’s over for us. 😭]

[Bro, she’s coming for your career. First William, now Scott? Stay safe out there.]

└ [Don’t you dare compare William to Scott. Scott actually has a personality. 😤]

[Y’all are mad because Bella’s winning at life. Let her breathe, she’s iconic.]

└ [Winning in life? More like she’s carried in life. If it wasn’t for all of daddy’s money she’s always spending, I doubt anyone would give a fuck about her 🤷‍♂️]

└ [I mean, she’s an award-winning actress, but ok. Let’s conveniently ignore that.]

└ [Something her dad probably paid for. 💀]

[Scott, my guy, don’t let her trap you. She can’t have every handsome guy in Hollywood!]

└ [He’s too sigma for that 🗿]

└ [Get out with your sigma cringe bro. It’s almost 2046, we ain’t having nun of that garbage.]

･･･

Scott scrolled faster as the comments bounced between defenders, haters, and trolls.

One stood out that made him roll his eyes.

[Bella’s after him now? Bro, it’s like watching Thanos collect Infinity Stones but for boyfriends.]

└ [She’s like the meanest celebrity I know and yet every guy wants to date her 😭 HELP!]

･･･

“I don’t have time for this…”

Scott muttered under his breath.

He stuffed his phone into his pocket and rushed out of the walk-in closet as his coat flared behind him.

━ ━ ━ ━

Metro Airport, Metro City

Meanwhile, miles away in the back of a sleek black limousine, Bella Trevors lounged comfortably in her seat.

She was dressed in an elegant, form-fitting red dress, and her blonde hair was tied in its usual messy yet perfectly wavy style to complement her sexy, slender shoulders. Her phone was perched in her hand as her manicured fingers casually scrolled through her agenda for the day.

Balanced on her lap was a high-end laptop, which she’d been using to monitor Scott’s rising social media presence.

A sly smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“This Scott McQueen…”

She took another glance at his photo.

“He’s got quite the nerve.”

Her finger tapped the screen as she viewed her own comment on his post.

“I’ve commented on three of his posts now, and he hasn’t even bothered to DM me. How irritating…”

Her butler, Morgan, spoke up from the driver’s seat through the intercom.

“Miss Bella, wouldn’t it be simpler to just send him a message and politely request a meeting?”

Bella sighed, swirling a glass of sparkling cider in her hand.

“Oh, Morgan… if life were that simple, anyone could talk to a mega-celebrity.”

She leaned back against the leather seat as her tone shifted to one of feigned exasperation.

“I’m Bella Trevors, America’s sweetheart and Hollywood’s rising star. It’s not exactly good PR for me to go around DMing a newbie like Scott McQueen. That would give him way too much clout. It’s better if we grow together. You know… cross-pollinate our careers.”

Morgan chuckled softly, his voice calm but amused.

“I understand your reasoning, Miss, but… forgive me for asking—do you actually like him? Or is this just for the cameras?”

Bella cutely tilted her head as her tender lips curled into a thoughtful pout.

“Not exactly. But he wouldn’t be bad to date… or sleep with a few times.”

She took a sip of her cider.

“I don’t see it lasting, though. Guys with unbelievably godly faces like that? They’re usually either gay, have a small—”

“Miss!”

Morgan interjected like she was about to say something absolutely blasphemous.

Bella smirked, enjoying the teasing moment.

“… Or they’re just arrogant. Like William. God, I hated that son of a bitch. Not only was he insufferable, but he was giving off serious gay vibes by the end of it.”

Morgan frowned.

“I always thought William acted rudely because that’s the energy you gave him, Miss. The Trevors and Roosevelt families never did see eye to eye, after all.”

Bella hummed in thought, pressing the rim of her glass against her lip.

“Maybe. Whatever.”

Morgan cleared his throat.

“Forgive me for asking, but… since we’re on the topic of Mr. William, and he was a… rather muscular man, was he…”

Bella’s expression darkened, and she shot him a sharp look through the rearview mirror.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Morgan.”

Morgan chuckled, unbothered. “I’m just saying, Miss.”

“Well, let’s just say… he wasn’t my size…”

“Haha! You’re too mean, young miss.”

Bella rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her phone. With a flick of her hair, she held the device up and snapped a quick selfie.

… SNAP!

The photo was flawless—her smirk and fox-like eyes easily captured the aura of a star.

“Hmph. Scott McQueen…”

She muttered under her breath as she posted the selfie.

“Let’s see how long you can ignore me.”