Picking Up Girls With My Pickup System-Chapter 38: The Trap Tightens.

The morning after Derek’s cafeteria grin felt like stepping into a different world.

Kent walked the Ridgeway halls and every sound hit like a weapon. Locker doors slammed too loud. Sneakers squeaked too sharp. Laughter echoed too long, like it was following him.

It wasn’t paranoia. Not this time. He heard his name.

"Gilbert, right? They say he’s blackmailing people."

"I heard he records conversations. Like, on his phone. Creepy as hell."

"No way, he’s too much of a coward for that."

"Then why’s Derek looking so calm? Think about it."

The whispers slid under his skin like needles. Heads turned and darted away. People he barely knew pulled back from him in the hall, drifting toward lockers or doorways as though simply brushing his shoulder might curse them.

The System confirmed what his gut already screamed:

[Reputation: Declining Rapidly]

Student Support: 36% → 29%

Hostility: 33% → 42%

Status Effect Applied: Social Isolation]

Kent gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the floor tiles. Every step felt heavier.

At his locker, Jake was already waiting, jittery as always, hoodie pulled up like he was bracing for rain inside the building. His tray of nerves had been replaced with wildfire.

"Bro. They’re eating it up," Jake said the moment Kent appeared. His voice dropped to a furious whisper. "This is poison. Derek doesn’t even need to throw a punch, he’s killing you with words. If we don’t torch him with that log today, we’re done."

Kent shoved his books into the locker, trying to tune out the snickers echoing down the hall. "We don’t move yet."

Jake’s eyes went wide. "We don’t—bro, have you seen the looks you’re getting? It’s like they’re already holding your funeral. And you wanna wait?"

Before Kent could answer, Mia’s voice sliced in. "Lower your volume."

She stood a few lockers down, arms crossed, expression sharp as ever. Her presence was like a blade in a sheath—silent, controlled, dangerous.

Jake spun on her, practically vibrating. "Are you seriously chill with this? He’s being shredded out here. Everyone’s buying Derek’s lies. You want us to just sit back while he turns Gilbert into some villain?"

Mia’s gaze didn’t even flicker. "If we react like cornered rats, we confirm his narrative. The more desperate we look, the easier his lies stick."

Jake barked a laugh, too loud. "Oh, perfect. So we’ll just smile while the mob sharpens their pitchforks. Genius."

Samir appeared then, adjusting his glasses, calm as though the hallway wasn’t a battlefield. "The rumors are efficient. Derek discredits Kent, so when evidence emerges, it is dismissed. A classic maneuver. The correct response is not denial—it is redirection."

Jake threw his hands up, muttering, "I’m surrounded by lunatics."

Kent barely heard them. His vision fuzzed as the System pulsed again:

[Group Unity: 62% – Strained]

[Morale: Weakening] 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

[Countdown: 38h 27m]

He clenched his jaw, forcing air into his lungs. They were splintering, Derek’s rumors already tearing them apart. And he hadn’t even made his real move yet.

Kent closed his locker with a quiet click. His reflection in the metal was pale, eyes bloodshot from another sleepless night.

He whispered under his breath, so low none of them could hear: "We need a win. Fast."

The System chimed faintly, almost taunting:

[Questline Active: Counter-Entrapment]

Next Step: Define the Bait.

By lunch, Kent’s patience was already stretched to breaking. His tray sat untouched, the food blurring into gray shapes he had no appetite for. Every table in the cafeteria hummed with whispers, the kind that crawled under your skin no matter how hard you tried to ignore them.

It wasn’t just Derek’s loyalists. The poison had spread. Friends he’d traded homework with last week now avoided eye contact. A girl he’d once paired with in gym muttered to her group as he passed, the word "blackmail" slipping through the cracks of laughter.

The System made sure he didn’t forget the numbers:

[Reputation: 26%]

[Hostility: 47%]

Across the table, Jake slammed his soda can down, fizz spraying. "We can’t sit on our hands anymore. By tomorrow, they’ll be carving ’Snake Gilbert’ into the lockers. He’s burying you alive with gossip, man!"

Kent rubbed his temples. "I know."

"Do you?" Jake snapped, his voice rising. "Because you’re sitting there like it’s just gonna blow over, and newsflash—it isn’t."

Before Kent could bite back, another voice cut in, steady and calm as a blade sliding from its sheath.

Emily.

She slid into the seat beside Mia, setting her notebook on the table with a deliberate thud. Her eyes locked on Kent’s, sharp and unyielding.

"Jake’s right about one thing. Derek has momentum. If we keep reacting, he dictates the board. We need to flip it."

Kent frowned. "And how exactly do we do that?"

Emily flipped open her notebook, pages filled with scribbles, arrows, and little timelines. She tapped one section with her pen.

"By baiting him."

The word dropped like a stone into the table’s silence.

Jake nearly choked on his soda. "You’re joking, right? You want us to just... dangle ourselves in front of the school psycho and hope he takes a bite?"

Emily didn’t blink. "Not hope. Ensure."

Samir leaned forward, interest gleaming behind his glasses. "Entrapment. Predict the move, design the board so that any action he takes condemns him."

Emily nodded once. "Exactly."

Mia tilted her head, studying Emily with her usual unreadable expression. "Risky. Explain."

Emily’s pen sketched a quick diagram in her notebook: Kent’s name in the center, Derek’s orbit circling, arrows of gossip bleeding outward. She tapped Kent’s name.

"Derek’s entire play is credibility. If he breaks Kent socially, everything Kent says or shows later is dismissed as lies. The only way to win is to force Derek into a mistake—something undeniable, public, caught red-handed. We set the trap, he walks into it."

Jake threw his arms up. "Sure, sounds great in theory. Except we’re not masterminds in some spy movie—we’re four idiots in high school with phones!"

Emily’s gaze cut to him, sharp enough to silence. "Phones are all we need."

She leaned back, folding her arms. "Think. Derek’s arrogance is his weakness. He doesn’t just want to beat Kent. He wants to humiliate him. That means he won’t stop until he manufactures something big. We let him believe he has the perfect opening—something too good to resist—and when he takes it..."

Her pen tapped the paper, final and decisive.

"...we bury him."

The table fell quiet. Even Jake’s usual snappy comeback died on his lips.

Kent exhaled slowly, pulse hammering in his ears. He could already see the gears of the System churning behind her words:

[New Strategy Proposed: Entrapment Play]

Risk Level: Extreme

Potential Reward: Catastrophic Blow to Rival]

He swallowed hard. Entrapment. Bait Derek into revealing himself.

The only problem? To catch a predator, you had to bleed first.

The idea sat on the table like a live grenade.

No one spoke at first. Kent stared at Emily’s notebook, at the neat arrows and bold circles that turned his life into a tactical map. Entrapment. Just the word made his chest tighten.

Jake was the first to crack the silence. "Okay, let’s say we buy this... bait plan. Who’s supposed to dangle the steak in front of Derek? Because it sure as hell isn’t going to be me."

Samir adjusted his glasses, calm where Jake fidgeted. "The bait has to be someone Derek can’t resist targeting. Someone who already has his attention."

Jake snorted, jerking a thumb at Kent. "Well, congrats, dude. You’re the obvious chew toy."

Kent didn’t flinch, though his stomach coiled. He knew Jake wasn’t wrong.

Emily shook her head. "Too obvious. Derek expects Kent to resist him. He’ll be cautious now, more careful. No—we need something subtler. A crack he won’t suspect is deliberate."

Mia finally stirred. Her voice was soft but edged with steel. "You’re suggesting one of us?"

Emily’s eyes flicked to her, sharp. "I’m suggesting whoever Derek underestimates most. Someone he’ll think is safe prey."

The table shifted uncomfortably.

Jake leaned back hard in his chair. "Hold up. You’re talking about dangling Mia or yourself in front of Derek? That’s insane."

Emily didn’t look away. "It’s calculated."

Kent’s jaw tightened. "Calculated or not, I’m not letting anyone here take the hit for me. I’ll do it."

Emily’s pen stilled. She studied him a long moment before replying, her tone precise. "You’d like to think that. But this isn’t about pride. It’s about probability. If Derek thinks you’re laying a trap, he won’t bite. If he thinks Mia—quiet, detached Mia—slipped, or that I’m vulnerable, he’ll leap."

Mia’s calm gaze never wavered. "And if he does?"

Emily’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. "Then we record. We capture proof that buries his credibility forever."

Samir tapped his fingers against the table. "You’d need more than a shaky phone video. If this is entrapment, the evidence must be airtight. Texts, screenshots, audio—something the school and half the student body can’t dismiss."

Jake muttered, "You guys talk like you’re running a sting operation."

"Because we are," Emily said flatly.

The System pulsed in Kent’s vision:

[Strategic Branch: Entrapment Play]

Options available:

Kent as bait — High risk, low surprise.

Emily as bait — Medium risk, high chance of emotional escalation.

Mia as bait — Extreme risk, maximum probability of Derek overreaching.

Kent’s fists clenched under the table. His friends weren’t numbers. They weren’t pawns. But the System laid it out cold, like a menu of sacrifices.

He forced the words out, his voice low. "We’re not putting Mia on the line. End of story."

Emily didn’t argue—yet her silence said she was calculating anyway.

Jake finally broke in, slamming his hand on the table. "I hate this. I hate that Derek’s dragging us into his circus and the only way out is to play dirtier than him."

Samir’s tone was dry. "That’s because you’re thinking emotionally. Strategically, this is the only way forward. If Derek destroys Kent’s reputation, all of us are collateral. Better to strike first."

The bell rang, shrill and merciless, scattering the tension. Students rose around them, gossip humming like static in the air.

But at their table, no one moved. The plan hung there, unfinished.

Emily closed her notebook with a decisive snap. "We’ll finalize tonight. Derek’s expecting fear. Let’s give him a choice he can’t refuse instead."

The System chimed one last time as Kent stood, the cafeteria emptying around them:

[Event Triggered: Entrapment Path Activated]

Phase One: Selection of Bait. Deadline: 24 hours.]

Kent’s pulse pounded. One day to decide who’d play the sacrificial lamb.

That night, they met in Kent’s basement—the one place no neighbor or teacher would stumble in. The single lamp cast long shadows, and the old carpet muffled every restless shuffle of feet.

The log—their proof—sat on the table in its taped plastic sleeve, like a relic from some cursed museum. No one touched it. No one had to. Its weight filled the room.

Emily laid out her notebook again, clean pages this time, a new map already forming. "We don’t have the luxury of waiting anymore. If Derek’s smear campaign holds for another twenty-four hours, Kent’s credibility evaporates. When that happens, this—" she tapped the log, "—is worthless."

Jake dropped onto the couch, running both hands through his hair. "Yeah, great, thanks for the pep talk. We get it. But how about we figure out how not to die in the process?"

Samir’s voice was cool as ever. "The solution has already been framed. We bait him. The question is only who."

Silence stretched. Kent felt everyone’s eyes flick his way, then away.

"I said it before," he muttered. "It should be me. He’s already watching me."

Emily shook her head. "And because he’s watching you, he’ll tread carefully. Derek doesn’t underestimate you anymore. He won’t overextend if you’re the lure."

Jake pointed at her, almost desperate. "So what, it’s you? You think you can just... walk into his sights and come out fine?"

Her expression didn’t shift. "If it works, yes."

Kent’s gut twisted. He slammed his hand on the table, startling them all. "No. We’re not throwing you to him."

Emily’s eyes flashed, not angry but sharp. "You don’t get to decide that alone."

Before Kent could snap back, Mia’s quiet voice cut through. "Then it should be me."

The room froze.

Jake’s head whipped around. "Excuse me? No. Absolutely not. That’s—no."

But Mia’s gaze didn’t waver. "Derek doesn’t see me as a threat. He barely acknowledges me. That makes me the perfect angle."

Kent’s pulse spiked. "That makes you the most vulnerable. He’ll eat you alive."

Mia tilted her head, her tone flat. "Then catch him doing it."

The System pulsed viciously:

[Critical Choice Approaching]

Kent as bait — Low payoff, controlled risk.

Emily as bait — High volatility, high potential for exposure.

Mia as bait — Maximum risk, maximum gain.

Jake was already pacing, his voice cracking with frustration. "This is insane! We’re literally debating which one of us Derek gets to crush first. How is this a plan? This is a suicide lottery!"

Samir folded his hands calmly. "Incorrect. This is probability management. Someone must be bait. Refusal only ensures Derek dictates the battleground."

Jake spun on him. "You say that like you’re not volunteering."

Samir’s gaze was unreadable. "Because Derek wouldn’t take the bait with me. He respects strength. He dismisses vulnerability. Therefore, the efficient choice is obvious." His eyes flicked toward Mia.

Kent’s hands curled into fists. He could feel the group fracturing again, each side pulling harder. Jake’s raw panic. Mia’s cold determination. Emily’s ruthless calculation. Samir’s logic. And in the center, the System whispering in his head, daring him to choose who risked everything.

He slammed both palms on the table, voice cutting through the rising argument. "Enough."

They went quiet, but the tension thrummed like a live wire.

Kent looked at Mia first. "You’re not expendable. None of you are." Then Emily. "And you’re not using yourself as bait either."

Jake muttered, "Finally, some sense."

But Kent’s chest ached, because the truth was harsher than the words leaving his mouth. He had to choose.

The System pulsed again:

[Leadership Check: Pending...]

Deadline to Decide: 22h 14m

The clock ticked louder in his mind. Every second, Derek’s grin grew wider.

The room felt like it was shrinking. The basement walls pressed in closer with every tick of the clock, every faint hum of the lamp above their heads.

Jake paced like a caged animal, muttering under his breath. Mia sat perfectly still, but her eyes burned, sharp and unyielding. Emily leaned forward, calm but coiled, every word she hadn’t said thrumming like static in the air. Samir simply watched, patient as a blade waiting to be drawn.

Kent could feel the System whispering in the corners of his vision:

[Warning: Group Unity Falling]

[Loyalty Levels Dropping]

[Crisis Threshold Approaching...]

He wanted to scream. He wanted to rip the log in half just to end the weight crushing him. But he couldn’t. Proof wasn’t a lifeline—it was an anchor. The only thing keeping Derek from snapping them all like twigs.

And if Kent didn’t choose soon, the group would make the choice without him.

Jake stopped pacing, whipping around suddenly. "That’s it. Screw this. I’ll do it."

Mia blinked, startled. "You?"

Jake jabbed a thumb at his chest, his grin wild, jagged, dangerous. "Yeah. Me. Derek hates me. Always has. He’ll take the bait, no question."

Kent’s stomach dropped. The idea was insane—but he could see the jagged sense in it. Derek would go after Jake. He would bite.

Emily leaned back, studying him coldly. "Too volatile. You’d improvise. You’d lose control."

Jake’s grin only widened. "And you think Little Miss Ice Queen would be better? He wouldn’t even look at you twice unless Kent gift-wrapped you."

Mia’s glare could’ve cut steel. "At least I wouldn’t fold the second he breathed down my neck."

Jake took a step toward her. "Say that again—"

"Stop."

Kent’s voice cracked through the argument. He stood, heart hammering. His hand clenched around the edge of the table hard enough to hurt. "We’re not tearing each other apart for this. We don’t have the time."

The System pulsed, forcing the ultimatum:

[Final Decision Required]

Choose Jake.

Choose Mia.

Choose Emily.

Choose Yourself.

Deadline: 21h 52m

Kent’s throat locked. His mind raced, every option slicing him open in a different way. Jake’s recklessness. Mia’s cold resolve. Emily’s calculated ruthlessness. His own vulnerability.

No matter what, someone would bleed.

He looked at them—really looked. Jake, vibrating with desperate fire. Mia, cold but unshaken. Emily, unreadable, daring him to be ruthless. Samir, silent, waiting for him to shoulder the burden.

It had always been like this. They looked to him.

Kent’s hand slid into his hoodie pocket, brushing the folded log. The proof burned against his ribs, the System’s countdown pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, steady only because it had to be.

"I’ll do it."

The room exploded.

Jake: "What?! No, hell no, that’s suicide!"

Mia: "Kent, that’s exactly what Derek wants—"

Emily: "Predictable. But inevitable."

Samir: "Statistically high mortality, but efficient."

Kent’s chest ached as he met each of their eyes. "It’s me. It has to be me. Derek’s already watching me. He won’t settle for anyone else. If we want him to bite, it has to be me."

Jake’s fists clenched, tears of fury bright in his eyes. "You’re not a damn martyr, Kent! You don’t get to just—just decide to die for us!"

Kent’s voice cracked. "I’m not planning on dying. I’m planning on ending this."

The System chimed, brutal and cold:

[Choice Locked: Kent as Bait]

[Quest Updated: The Hunter’s Snare]

[Countdown: 21h 44m]

The room fell into brittle silence.

Jake dropped back onto the couch, head in his hands. Mia stared at him like she wanted to argue but couldn’t. Emily just closed her notebook with a quiet snap, her expression unreadable. Samir’s gaze lingered, thoughtful, calculating.

Kent sank back into his chair, every muscle trembling.

The die was cast.

And somewhere out there, Derek Lorn was smiling.