Chapter Text
Lu Guang knew Cheng Xiaoshi was going to die that night.
He swung between the city’s buildings with such speed and force that the muscles in his arms burned red-hot. Sweat gathered beneath his mask, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t hesitate… not again.
As he pushed forward, whenever exhaustion became too much and he let himself stumble onto the sidewalk to run through the crowds, people stared at him with undeserved admiration and cheered a hero’s name that, in that moment, felt far too heavy for him to carry. And with every step, he cursed himself for having been so blind, for missing the signs and for trusting without hesitation.
He prided himself on being observant, on having the ability to anticipate any outcome, no matter how disastrous. Yet out of all possible scenarios, this was the one he hadn’t been fast enough to prevent. And because of that mistake—because of that stupid mistake—he was now racing desperately toward the Time Photo Studio, clinging to the hope that he wasn’t already too late.
Late. Time. A word that had become a sentence.
How could he call himself a hero when he wouldn’t even be able to save Cheng Xiaoshi—his best friend, the person most precious to him?
The answer was simple: Lu Guang had never been a hero.
He was the catalyst of his own tragedy, the villain in his own story, and Cheng Xiaoshi… his greatest victim.