Chapter Text
“The robbery on Western Street was successfully handled by the hero—”
Cale reached for the radio and switched it off before the report could continue.
He wiped down the last table, sparing a glance at the clock. His shift would be over in a few minutes, and, more importantly, none of the news stations had reported any trouble in his area.
A good sign. Finally.
Perhaps, for once, he could make it home without having to take a detour because some gang had decided to start a fight in the middle of the street or a villain had appeared out of nowhere to terrorize the local population.
Cale finished cleaning the table and stretched his arms above his head, releasing a tired sigh.
Perfect. Not a speck of dust in sight.
It seemed the villains had chosen somewhere else to cause trouble tonight. Cale could only hope they stayed there.
He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd managed to walk home without encountering an explosion, a collapsing building, or some lunatic.
His workplace was close enough to his home that the journey usually took less than twenty minutes. Under normal circumstances, it was hardly a distance worth thinking about.
Unfortunately, normal circumstances had become a luxury these days.
Whenever trouble broke out, Cale had learned to abandon his usual route and take the long way around. A twenty-minute walk could easily turn into an hour, but that was a small price to pay for his peace of mind.
He had no intention of getting caught up in someone else's heroic battle. Whatever those people did in their spare time was none of his business, provided they kept their explosions and property damage far away from him.
“The only thing left is the trash...” Cale murmured.
His thoughts had already wandered to his bed, where he could spend the rest of the evening in the comfort of doing absolutely nothing.
Now that was something worth looking forward to.
Cale gathered a few pastries that would otherwise go to waste and carefully packed them away. His boss, Ron, might have been a terrifying old man whose smile never failed to make Cale shudder, but at least the man had some redeeming qualities.
He wasn't stingy with the food.
Ron had never forbidden his employees from taking home the day's leftovers, allowing Cale to enjoy the occasional free pastry instead of watching perfectly good food end up in the trash. It was a small perk, but one Cale appreciated far more than he cared to admit.
Once everything was ready, he grabbed the trash bags, picked up his keys, and headed for the back door.
His gaze briefly settled on the small alarm keychain attached to the keyring.
Choi Jung Soo had given it to him some time ago, wearing an unusually serious expression as he insisted that Cale should carry something capable of drawing attention if he ever found himself in trouble.
Cale had to admit that the man had a point. Having a way to call for help was sensible, especially with the current state of the city.
That didn't make the alarm any less obnoxious, though.
The thing was unbearably loud. Cale suspected that setting it off would be enough to wake half the neighborhood, along with anyone unfortunate enough to be sleeping within a three-block radius.
Still, he supposed that was rather the point.
After one final check to make sure everything was in order, Cale locked the door behind him and pulled his hood over his head before stepping outside.
Normally, he wouldn't have bothered hiding his appearance.
Tonight, however, was a little different.
There had been far too much news lately about a villain who seemed to have an inexplicable obsession with the color red. Between the repeated reports and the increasingly ridiculous speculation surrounding the man, Cale had grown thoroughly tired of hearing about him.
And given the unfortunate shade of his own hair, he would rather avoid attracting any unnecessary attention.
Cale tugged his hood a little farther forward.
Honestly, he had never been more tempted to dye his hair.
Unfortunately, wanting to dye his hair and actually being able to afford it were two entirely different matters. His paycheck barely covered his usual expenses, and hair dye was hardly an essential purchase. Besides, his hood seemed to be doing its job well enough. For now, that would have to suffice.
The streets were quiet as Cale made his way home. The few people still out kept their heads down and hurried along, rarely sparing one another more than a passing glance. It was a stark contrast to the lively crowds that filled the streets during the day, when shops were open and people had somewhere to be.
Nighttime brought its own dangers, after all.
Ever since humans had begun awakening supernatural abilities, people had gradually learned to accept that the world became a considerably more dangerous place after dark. The awakened were still a minority, but their numbers continued to grow, and it hadn't taken many individuals with extraordinary powers to turn society upside down.
At first, the crimes had been relatively minor. Petty theft, vandalism, and the occasional assault. Then came the robberies, the murders, and the people who discovered that their newfound abilities gave them enough power to challenge the authorities themselves.
Eventually, society had come up with names for the two groups.
Those who used their abilities to commit crimes were branded villains, while those who stepped forward to stop them were given the considerably more flattering title of heroes.
Personally, Cale thought both names were ridiculous.
He could understand the need to distinguish between the two groups, but the dramatic terminology seemed rather unnecessary. Still, he wasn't particularly interested in arguing with politicians over their questionable naming choices. As long as neither group involved him in their business, they could call themselves whatever they pleased.
Fortunately, Cale belonged to neither.
He was an ordinary citizen, and he intended to remain one.
There had even been a debate about whether people without supernatural abilities should receive a special designation of their own. Apparently, the awakened needed a way to distinguish themselves, so everyone else was expected to have one, too.
The proposal had eventually been rejected.
Cale had been perfectly satisfied with that decision. Being called a normal person was considerably less troublesome than whatever ridiculous title the government might have come up with.
Turning down a side street, Cale slipped into a narrow alley that Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk had repeatedly warned him against using.
It was poorly lit, cramped, and almost completely deserted. Tall buildings blocked most of the streetlights, leaving the ground beneath his feet shrouded in shadows. The occasional pile of discarded boxes and rubbish did little to improve the atmosphere.
Cale, however, remained entirely unconcerned.
He had never understood why the other two made such a fuss about this particular alley. They were exaggerating, as usual. Nothing had ever happened to him there, and the shortcut shaved several minutes off his journey home by connecting to the main road a little farther ahead.
Five minutes saved was five minutes saved.
Besides, the alley was short. He would be out of it before anything could possibly happen.
At least, that was what Cale had always told himself.
He had barely reached the halfway point when a hand suddenly shot out of the darkness and seized both his wrists.
“What—”
Before he could finish the word, someone yanked him sideways.
Cale stumbled, his back striking the wall behind a stack of cardboard boxes and discarded packages. A second later, another hand clamped over his mouth, muffling the startled sound that escaped him.
His eyes widened.
Instinct took over before his thoughts could catch up. He twisted his wrists, trying to wrench them free, and dug his fingers into the stranger's arm.
Then the stranger leaned closer.
“Shhh.”
The warning was barely more than a whisper, but the urgency behind it made Cale hesitate. He stopped struggling long enough to get a proper look at the person holding him.
Black hair. A dark suit stained with blood. A familiar face he had seen countless times on television.
Black Yong. One of the city's heroes.
The news had been talking about him for months, praising his remarkable talent and the speed with which he had risen through the ranks. He was young, powerful, and supposedly had a bright future ahead of him. Commentators loved to speculate about his potential, while the public had already begun treating him like a rising star.
And right now, that rising star was crouched in a filthy alley, bleeding all over his suit.
Black Yong kept one hand pressed firmly against his left side. Blood seeped between his fingers, staining the fabric a darker shade, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Even so, his attention remained fixed on the alley entrance. Every few seconds, he cautiously peered around the corner before retreating into the shadows.
Cale's expression slowly changed.
Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad.
A sinister laugh drifted through the alley.
“Kekeke...Where are you, little hero?”
The voice was light, almost playful, as though its owner were enjoying a harmless game of hide-and-seek. That only made it worse. There was something deeply unsettling about the way the laughter echoed between the walls.
Scrrrrrape.
Metal dragged slowly across stone somewhere beyond the corner, the grating noise drawing closer with every passing second.
The raven-haired hero glanced back at Cale, regret flickering across his face. Perhaps he wished he had taken another route through the alley, one that wouldn't have put an innocent civilian in danger. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do about that now.
“You can’t run. I can smell your blood. And that beautiful color…”
What a creep.
A chill crept down Cale’s spine. Was this lunatic seriously talking about blood like he were some stereotypical villain from a badly written novel?
Then again, judging by the recent news reports, there was little doubt about the identity of the man lurking at the other end of the alley was Redika.
“Don’t worry. Stay here and keep yourself hidden. Nothing will happen to you,” Black Yong assured him in a low voice.
The young hero carefully nudged Cale farther into the narrow space between the stacked cardboard boxes, making sure the redhead was concealed from view. He then raised a finger to his lips, silently reminding Cale to keep quiet, before darting towards the entrance of the alley.
Cale remained where he was, watching him disappear around the corner. He had no intention of following. If anything, Black Yong had given him an excellent reason to stay exactly where he was and avoid doing anything that might attract the villain’s attention.
After all, Cale was an ordinary citizen. He had no supernatural abilities, no impressive combat skills, and certainly no desire to throw himself into a fight he couldn't possibly win. Unlike the protagonists in the novels he read during his spare time, he had never harbored any ambitions of becoming a hero. He was perfectly content to leave the dangerous business of saving people to those who had actually trained for it.
Still, the uneasiness in his stomach refused to settle.
If this were a story, Cale might have been able to relax a little. Black Yong would overcome his injuries, defeat Redika at the last possible moment, and save everyone involved before delivering some clever remark about justice. The innocent civilian would be allowed to return home.
Unfortunately, this wasn't a story, and Cale had no reason to believe things would work out so conveniently.
Black Yong was already badly injured, and from the way he had been moving, it was obvious that he was nowhere near his best.
If the hero lost, Cale would be left alone with the villain.
A deafening crash echoed through the passage. Dust burst into the air, spreading between the buildings and obscuring his view as fragments of stone scattered across the pavement. Cale ducked behind the boxes, raising an arm to shield his face while he waited for the dust to settle.
Black Yong had been thrown straight into the wall, his body partially embedded in the crumbling stone. A pained groan escaped the young hero as he struggled to free himself, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Despite the obvious pain, Black Yong managed to pull himself out of the damaged wall and retrieve his sword. He forced himself upright, tightening his fingers around the hilt as he prepared to continue fighting, but his injuries were clearly taking their toll. His shoulders sagged, and he struggled to catch his breath, each inhale sounding heavier than the last.
He was in terrible shape, and Cale wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going.
Meanwhile the villain giggled as he leisurely approached the injured hero, several crimson orbs floating around him. They swirled through the air like droplets of blood suspended in water, following his movements with an eerie grace. Their beauty did little to disguise what they were, and Cale found himself wondering how anyone could look at something like that without feeling at least a little sick.
His gaze shifted between the two men before settling on the alarm keychain in his hand. Cale pulled the cord free and hurled the alarm towards the villain. The small device struck the pavement with a clatter, and a piercing shriek immediately filled the alley, bouncing off the surrounding walls with enough force to make Cale wince.
“Wha—?!”
Redika flinched and turned towards the unexpected noise, his attention diverted for the briefest moment. It was all Black Yong needed.
The young hero surged forward, gathering what little strength remained. His sword flashed through the air before Redika could react, the blade cutting cleanly through the villain's right arm.
“Aaaah! FUCK!”
Redika's scream tore through the alley as blood splattered across the pavement. The crimson liquid began to gather almost immediately, rising from the ground in trembling droplets that attempted to reform into the floating orbs. However, their shapes flickered and wavered, the blood struggling to maintain its form.
Clutching the stump of his severed arm, Redika staggered backwards, his expression contorted with pain and fury. He tried to regain control of his ability, but the blood refused to obey him. His gaze locked onto Black Yong, murderous hatred burning in his eyes.
Black Yong, however, had no intention of giving him the opportunity to recover. The young hero tightened his grip on his sword and advanced.
“It's over.”
For a moment, Redika said nothing, then he slowly burst into laughter.
The sound started quietly, almost like a chuckle. His lips stretched into a wide grin, but rather than looking at the hero standing before him, Redika shifted his attention towards Cale.
One of the unstable blood orbs suddenly stretched and narrowed, its trembling surface forming a long, pointed spear. Its sharp tip turned towards Cale, and before he could even process what was happening, the projectile shot through the air.
Abandoning his pursuit of the fleeing villain, Black Yong rushed towards Cale, silently praying that he would reach the redhead in time to shield him from the incoming attack.
The blood spear hurtled towards them.
Just as it was about to strike, a brilliant silver-white light burst into existence. Glowing wings unfurled around the redhead, their radiance almost divine, while a shield materialized at their center. The barrier stood between Cale and the deadly projectile, absorbing the impact before it could reach him.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the spear dissolved into nothing.
The shield vanished a moment later, leaving only a few fading sparks of silver light in its wake.
Redika was already gone.
Black Yong froze, his gaze darting around the alley as he searched for any sign of another hero. Even though he knew he should be relieved that the attack had been stopped, confusion quickly overshadowed his relief. He couldn't recall a single hero with an ability like that, much less one capable of conjuring such an extraordinary defensive barrier.
His eyes slowly returned to the redhead.
Cale's knees gave way.
Black Yong barely managed to catch him before he could hit the stone pavement, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep him upright. Yet the moment he felt the man's weight against him, Cale doubled over with a violent cough. Blood stained his lips.
“Did you just awa—” Black Yong began, only to cut himself off. “No, more importantly, are you all right?”
His voice stumbled over the words as he carefully adjusted his hold, afraid that even the slightest movement might worsen Cale's injuries.
Meanwhile, Cale was busy cursing up a storm inside his head.
Fuck. Shit. Damn it all.
He could barely keep the string of profanities from spilling out of his mouth. Of all the things that could have happened today, why this? Why now?
How the hell did I suddenly awaken?
What kind of ridiculous cliché was this?!
Cale raised a trembling hand to his head, feeling for the hood that still covered his hair. At least it hadn't fallen off. Whether that was enough to keep his identity hidden remained to be seen, but he had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out.
His peaceful, slacker life was in danger.
And he absolutely refused to let it get any worse.
Ignoring the pain radiating through his body and the blood lingering on his lips, Cale pushed himself out of the raven-haired hero's embrace.
“I’m fine. Don't worry about it.”
He barely finished speaking before turning on his heel and running.
Behind him, Black Yong could only stare in bewilderment as the injured redhead fled the alley, leaving the young hero with more questions than answers.