Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine - Chapter 205

Chapter 205: Misplaced
The kitchen was quiet. Too quiet.

Tension was still in the air like a fog that refused to lift.

No one said anything. No one dared.

The only sound was the awkward, rhythmic, and almost aggressive thud-thud of Martha chopping onions like the onions owed her something. Her head was bowed and her face was blank — though the redness around her eyes could’ve been from the onions… or the fact that she’d just walked in on something she couldn’t unsee.

On the other side of the kitchen, Scott stood by the sink, sleeves rolled up, hands soaked in soap and water as he scrubbed at a plate that had long since stopped needing attention. His jaw was clenched, and his tired eyes stared blankly at the porcelain.

He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in weeks.

Which, frankly, was kind of true.

Because how else was he supposed to look when his own mother — whom he hadn’t seen in nearly a year — just caught him with a handful of some girl’s ass?

He sighed heavily, muttering under his breath—

“It’s not even her business…”

But it somewhat was.

And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Then, like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box, Brigid popped up at his side as her big green eyes peered at the plate with a curious tilt of her head.

Her soft voice broke the silence.

“Uhm… Lord Nightwatch… is everything alright?”

Scott didn’t even look at her.

Just gave her a deadpan side-eye and replied flatly—

“Yeah. Why?”

Brigid leaned lazily against the sleek marble frame of the sink and gestured to the plate in his hand.

“Well, I mean… you’ve kinda been washing that same plate for like… I dunno, six minutes. You’ve basically scrubbed the design right off.”

Scott blinked. Looked down.

“… Shit.”

Brigid tilted her head.

Her thin lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.

“Is it about what happened in the living room? I mean, it’s not like your mom’s still thinking about it, right? All you did was grope my butt. It’s not like you grabbed me by the neck till I couldn’t breathe while pounding my innocent little vagina and licking my armpit at the same ti—”

“Brigid.”

Scott’s voice cut right through her perverted thoughts like a sword slash.

She immediately straightened like a soldier at roll call.

“Sorry!”

But not even a heartbeat later, she looked to the side with a salivating, pervy grin as she mumbled—

“But that would feel really good though…”

She even giggled like a weird old man.

Scott stared at her.

“Do I have to discipline you again…?”

“YE—! I mean… oh no, please don’t spank me…”

She shut her eyes and pretended to be scared.

“…”

No response from Scott.

She was THAT bad at acting.

“Ufufu… maybe I went too far? (￣ω￣;)”

“…”

He just sighed and went back to scrubbing.

“To be honest… I just don’t want her getting the wrong idea. I mean, I—”

Brigid suddenly smacked her fist into the palm of her other hand, her eyes lighting up with discovery.

“Aha! You’re scared she’ll think you’re some sleazeball pervert! Because if she thinks we’re together and she doesn’t even know about Gwen and Miss Em—”

Scott’s instincts kicked in before she could finish.

Both his soapy hands slapped over her mouth mid-word like a scene from a spy movie.

“No one…”

He whispered harshly.

“… is telling her about that, are we clear?”

Brigid blinked twice.

Then nodded. Calmly. Sweetly. Innocently.

Scott released her mouth with a groan and wiped his tired face — he looked like a salaryman with rent due and a family of five to take care of.

Brigid glanced toward Martha and tilted her head.

“But like… your mom looks pretty normal though? I don’t think she’s still thinking about it.”

Scott looked up—and instantly deadpanned.

“Oh, she’s thinking about it.”

How could he tell? Easy.

She was cutting onions like they were personal enemies.

Her eyes were wide open in sheer panic.

Brigid followed his gaze. “… Huh?”

Scott leaned slightly toward her and muttered—

“You can read minds. But emotions? Not so much.”

Brigid scratched the back of her head and chuckled sheepishly.

“Ehehe… yeah. That…”

Meanwhile, on Martha’s end of the kitchen—

Thud. Thud. THUD.

Each chop came down harder than the last. Her thoughts raced like a rollercoaster with no brakes.

『Oh my gosh… My son’s already… sexually active…! Why am I even shocked? Maxwell and I used to hump like mindless animals—we were practically wild boars in heat… of course he inherited that, he got my genes! My looks! He’s probably swarmed by girls!!』

Her mind darted again.

『Wait—didn’t that Marcus boy say this mansion belongs to his aunt? And she’s… Sc-, Sc-, Scott’s girlfriend’s? So he’s dating some older lady?! Oh no… OH NO—!!』

Her eyes widened in horror.

『Has he touched Tess’s daughter?! (゜ロ゜) What was her name again… GWEN!』

Martha gasped as she clutched her head like it was going to split open, and began to wiggle side to side like a panicked worm on a frying pan.

Across the kitchen, Scott and Brigid just… watched.

Blank expressions.

In perfect unison, they muttered—

“Yeah. She’s definitely thinking about it… (;一_一)”

Then awkward smiles crept onto their faces.

Brigid turned to him.

“But… is it really that bad if she knows? I mean… I never got that far with my mom, but she used to give me advice. On men. And… the kind of man I should marry…”

Her cheeks turned a little pink.

Scott frowned and his blue eyes softened just a little as he stared at Martha.

“Thing is… she’s not really supposed to be here. Me and her… we’re not on the best of terms. She doesn’t know much about my life. And I kinda like keeping it that way.”

Brigid nodded solemnly.

“Hmm… I see.”

Then with a tilt of her head, she asked—

“Is that why you never want to talk about her? Not even with Miss Emma?”

Scott froze.

His hands stopped mid-scrub.

His gaze drifted downward.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

That was final.

Brigid clutched her chest and her face twisted in pain — as if she’d just been hit with a tragic twist in her favorite romance drama.

『Just as I thought! My flawless, glorious, blue-eyed prince must harbor inner wounds! Hidden sorrow! Dark pasts that shape him into the perfect tragic hero!!』

Her eyes glimmered.

『Even his FLAWS make him PERFECT! (〃ﾟдﾟ〃)』

She scooted a little closer, practically giggling and vibrating with emotion. Her voice turned soft, pleading, fluttering with hope like a cute puppy trying to win affection.

“Oh come ooon… you can tell me anyth—”

“No.”

Scott didn’t even look up. His voice was firm.

Brigid instantly deflated as her face fell. She turned and slowly walked away, shoulders sagged, head low like a rejected puppy, muttering under her breath—

“Yes, my liege…”

━ ━ ━ ━

— Met U, Metro City —

Gwen was sprawled across her bed like a lazy cat, limbs everywhere, bottle of water balanced on her stomach as she sluggishly swung her feet. The rhythm of the cold plastic bumping against her skin matched the loud pssshhhhhh of the shower in the bathroom nearby.

Her brows twitched as the water raged on.

“Come onnnn, don’t use up all the hot water!”

She shouted, her voice cracking halfway through as she lazily raised her head from the pillow.

No response. Figures.

She groaned and flopped back down, frowning deeper into the mattress like it was the source of all her life problems. She took a half-hearted sip from the bottle, her grip loose like it could fall at any moment.

And then—click—the bathroom door opened.

A mist of steam rolled out into the room.

Standing right there, with zero sense of modesty or shame, was Dark Elf — glistening and completely naked.

Her wet ebony skin shimmered with droplets as she stood with her hands on her massive hips, her sculpted body and toned abs on full display like she just walked off a fantasy battle manga cover. Her white-silver hair clung to her body in soaked strands, and her ears twitched faintly.

Gwen choked.

Then immediately spat her water halfway across the room.

“WHAGH—! (☉д⊙)”

The bottle slipped from her fingers and rolled off the bed as she scrambled for the towel beside her. In a panic, she grabbed it and hurled it straight at Dark Elf’s face.

WOP!

The towel landed squarely, obscuring her face like she was now some towel-covered floor lamp with legs.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Gwen shrieked, still wiping water from her chin.

“D-, Don’t just fucking stand there all naked! It’s… it’s like SUPER WEIRD!”

Dark Elf didn’t even flinch. She just stood there, towel still on her face, arms relaxed at her sides.

“… But it’s just the two of us?”

She said plainly, like she wasn’t just air-drying her entire pride in the middle of their dorm room.

“Back at my old apartment, I used to walk around naked all the time. I only stopped when I moved in with you guys ’cause Scott kept yelling at me.”

She pulled the towel from her face, slung it around her neck, and held both ends lazily.

“Then again… there was that one time I forgot, and he took away my chip privileges for a whole week…”

She started mumbling to herself.

Gwen stared with dead eyes and sighed in pure spiritual exhaustion.

“… Bree said there are creeps—like, weird seniors that use high-vision tech to peep into dorms from afar. Since we’re new, we’re probably prime targets.”

Dark Elf blinked, still unmoved.

Gwen added with a smirk—

“Also… we have those lesbian girls across the hostel. You look like prime lesbian bait.”

Dark Elf tilted her head. “What’s that?”

“Dunno. Emma said it once.”

Gwen shrugged, then leaned back and picked up the bottle again for another swig.

That’s when Dark Elf’s eyes flicked to the label.

“Wait. Did you go out to get water? I remember Emma packed a whole box of those for us.”

Gwen waved dismissively.

“Nah, Bree went out to grab some stuff. So I did a little… ahem, exploring. Found this weird stash of bottled water in a mini fridge she’s got hidden under her bunk. Figured I’d help myself.”

Dark Elf’s expression didn’t change.

“What happened to privacy?”

Gwen scoffed.

“Maybe I wouldn’t snoop if she didn’t act like we’re BFFs and start barging into our room all the time.”

Dark Elf folded her arms under her bare breasts.

“… Okay. Fair.”

“SEE?!” Gwen grinned triumphantly.

But her smile quickly disappeared.

Steam. A lot of it. Pouring in like a haunted sauna.

“Ugh, Elf!”

She groaned.

“I told you to close the door after hot showers! Now the whole room’s a damn rice cooker!”

Dark Elf blinked.

“Oh…”

She looked around like it just now hit her.

“Don’t worry, I got it…”

Gwen grunted, raising her hand confidently.

“I’ll just control the steam and make it float out through the windows…”

Nothing happened.

Gwen strained harder. “Hnnnnnghhhhh—!!”

Still nothing.

Dark Elf squinted. “… Is something wrong?”

“M-, My powers!”

Gwen stuttered, eyes wide.

“They’re not working!”

Her voice hit a high pitch as she threw the bottle aside and leapt off the bed in a panic.

“H–HOW DID I LOSE THEM?!”

She was already shaking, fumbling for her phone.

“I’m calling Scott! Maybe it’s the air pressure or the wind or—I don’t know!”

Now calmly tying the towel around her waist, Dark Elf looked down at the tossed bottle Gwen had been drinking from. She crouched down and picked it up, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“… I might have an answer.”

Gwen paused, mid-call. “Huh?”

━ ━ ━ ━

Meanwhile, back at Emma’s Mansion—

Dinner was long over.

Brigid’s legs trembled like twigs in a storm as she hauled Marcus on her back up the grand staircase. The guy was out cold, arms dangling, mouth wide open as he snored like a truck engine.

“Ohhh wow… your food’s amazing, Mrs. McQueen…”

Marcus mumbled mid-snore as he lazily rubbed his overstuffed belly.

“Oh shut up!”

Brigid growled under her breath as her face cringed at the weight pressing down on her.

“You’re lucky my lord’s mom is here…”

Downstairs, Martha stood smiling in the now-empty dining room. She watched them go before turning back to help with the dishes.

Scott was already there—fast, efficient, and silent.

He hadn’t said a word all evening.

Just served, cleaned, and nodded.

Like he couldn’t wait to be done.

Still smiling softly, placed a few more plates in the sink.

“Ufufu… I should thank Marcus for the compliment…”

She said aloud to no one in particular.

“I’ve been practicing my cooking a lot lately. The nurses were kind enough to let me browse recipes online.”

She glanced at Scott.

Nothing. Not even a glance.

Even while they ate, it had been all her talking with Brigid and Marcus who couldn’t stop talking about her beauty, which forced her to tell them a story about her days as a worldwide supermodel.

During all this, Scott said nothing. And even worse… he gave no reactions.

Martha sighed, gathering more dishes.

“We didn’t get to talk much… and the asylum’s already calling me back, so—”

Clatter! Scott yanked the plates from her hands and brushed past her.

“Then just leave…”

He said flatly, not even turning to face her.

Martha froze.

She still smiled, but it was an empty one.

“Ahaha… I’m just glad I got to see your life. Outside that visiting room.”

Still no response from her son.

Minutes passed.

The table was cleaned.

The room dipped into an uncomfortable silence.

Martha waited by the door, purse in hand.

Scott finally walked out of the kitchen, heading toward her — but never meeting her eyes.

Brigid peeked from behind the stairwell to watch carefully.

Martha smiled again.

“I really am so happy I got to see you li—”

Scott cut her off.

“Are you taking public transport? Or do you need me to drive you? Either is fine.”

Martha flinched, blinking.

“… Before that, I just wanted to say—”

“Hm, I should’ve filled the car this morning…”

Scott said, almost as if no one was in front of him.

“Got distracted with cat issues.”

She watched him.

He wasn’t seeing her. He was staring through her.

“I—LET ME TALK!!”

The words snapped out of her like a whip.

She gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth in disbelief.

“I-, I’m sorry. Honey, I didn’t mean—”

Scott’s voice was ice.

“I’m not surprised.”

And with that, the air suddenly felt heavy.

Even Brigid, peeking from her corner, winced tightly.

“Oooo, burn…”

She whispered, making sure to stay hidden.

Martha was already trembling on the inside. Her smile had cracked long ago, and now she stood with nothing but the bare bones of hope clutched in her chest.

She didn’t come here to fight.

She didn’t come here to be humiliated.

She came because… he was her son.

She exhaled softly, almost as if she was deflating.

“I know you don’t want to hear me talk… I know you don’t even want to see my face. But Scott… as your mother, I have a moral obligation to be in your life. Just for a minute… can you let me talk?”

Her voice cracked at the end — it trembled with something between desperation and defeat. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but she was trying her best to stand tall, trying not to fall apart in front of him.

Scott lets out a small, dry laugh.

“Haha… that’s nice. That’s great.”

There’s bitterness on his face, the kind that’s marinated for years. His lips twitch into something like a smile, but it died as fast as it formed.

“Obligation, huh?”

His voice rose.

“So where was that obligation back then… HUH?! Where the hell were you?!”

Martha flinched.

He stepped closer, shoulders trembling.

“You didn’t think it was your responsibility to show me even the smallest bit of love?! You think saying you’re my mother now makes it okay?!”

Martha’s face tightened.

Her lips pulled back in disgust as she snaps—

“Oh come on—how dare you—?!”

“How dare I?!”

Scott bellows, jabbing his finger at her like a dagger.

“No. How dare YOU?!”

His voice exploded through the room like broken glass.

“You LET Dad beat the living hell out of me like I was a damn criminal! He broke everything he could lift on my back! Chairs! Tables! A damn microwave once!”

Martha’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t speak.

“And you—you just stared! You stood there and did nothing! Because you were scared. Because you hated me. Because I was easier to sacrifice than your peace of mind!”

His voice cracked further as the sniffling started.

His eyes were red with tears.

“Because of you… I couldn’t even breathe when people talked about their moms. I had to lie and pretend mine was dead just so I wouldn’t have to explain you.”

He clutched at his own throat.

“And this?! This SCAR?!”

He yanked his shirt collar down to show a faded, jagged scar along his neck — it was pretty much gone.

“I carried this for THREE YEARS because you strangled me! With your own hands!”

Martha staggered a step back like she just got punched.

Her arms dropped to her sides, limp.

Her mouth opened slightly—but nothing came out.

She lowered her head.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” she muttered.

But not once… not once did she say sorry.

Scott glared at her with reddened eyes.

His breathing was ragged.

“You know what…? You know what?!”

He pointed toward the front door.

“I can’t do this. I don’t want to hear your voice. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t even want to look at you!”

He stepped forward and shouted—

“And I sure as hell don’t want to be your son!”

He presseed his palm against his chest with a twisted smile, eyes glassy and dead.

“I’m… *gulp* I’m ashamed, you know? Ashamed to have a sleazy, womanizing dad who humps every model on a cover… and a mentally deranged mother who should probably just stay locked up for life.”

He pointed again, louder now.

“GET OUT!”

Martha doesn’t even blink. She just… stood there. Lost.

There was so much pain in her eyes — but no tears.

Because she didn’t know how to let it out.

Not anymore.

Not after years of learning to bottle everything and take out all her frustrations on Scott the moment she caught just a glimpse of him. Beating him with a stick or strangling him as she hurled the most unforgivable insults at him… that was her own way of easing her stress.

She gave a tiny nod.

“If that’s what you want…”

And just like that, she turned around.

BLAM!

The doors slammed shut behind her.

Scott dropped to his knees right there, hands limp by his side as silent tears streamed down his face.

His shoulders shook. No screams. No rage.

Just… quiet, soul-crushing grief.

In the shadows of the stairs, Brigid watched it all happen.

She didn’t say a word.

Because honestly… she didn’t know what to say.