Chapter Text
The funny thing about living a boring life like the one he led—unaltered, routine. Just like anyone else: a job he got after several attempts, a stable trust index, routines that surprised no one.
Life wasn’t simple, of course. But before becoming Hero X, before rising above the rest, there were foundations: responsibility, discipline, days that repeated themselves without brilliance.
And that hadn’t changed. X doubted it ever would.
Still, what turned his ordinary days into something strange, something interesting, was precisely… this.
Any sane person—responsible, normal—would’ve gone straight to the nearest police station to report what they were seeing. Maybe, first, they would’ve filmed it, posted it online. Or maybe not.
But X wasn’t that kind of person. Or at least, today, he didn’t want to be.
He watched. Without fear. Without worrying about dying or being killed for getting involved. Human curiosity worked like that: strange, unstoppable, a hook lodged deep in the mind.
And he fell for it. Like a mouse into a trap, he approached, knowing that this girl—like him—was different.
A power disconnected from the world’s trust system. A power she had been born with.
He knew.
And still, he kept walking.
She was small, with pale features: hair as red as burning embers at sunset, eyes green and deep like a forgotten forest. She wore a simple brown dress, worn down by time or flight. But what truly set her apart from the world was the crimson energy wrapped around her—dense, like a cocoon of burning silk.
She wasn’t asleep. She wasn’t dead.
She was awake.
Stunned, tears slipping down her cheeks, she stared at something X couldn’t see. And in her tiny, fragile hands, her fingers were stained black. It wasn’t dirt, nor blood. They looked like spilled constellations of ink, as if someone had dipped her fingertips into darkness itself.
Her power was protecting her. That much was clear. But there was something else…
The heat.
The sensation of her magic humming in the air, like a buzz under his skin. It crept down his arms, raised the hairs on his neck.
She’s strong.
That was the only conclusion, no words needed. His own abilities vibrated in response, like two opposing notes seeking harmonic collision.
Then, the girl stopped looking at nothing.
And looked at him.
It was slow. Deliberate. As if the universe held its breath. As if everything else—the wind, the sound, time—vanished for a moment, obedient.
Ah.
She manipulates reality…
How curious.
How dangerous.
And yet, X smiled with confidence.
“Hello,” he said, not sure if she would understand. After all, few people learned Simplified Chinese or Mandarin by choice. He left it up to chance.
She didn’t react. But it didn’t matter. X snapped his fingers, and in an instant, the transformation was complete. The appearance of the average citizen vanished, and in its place emerged the instantly recognizable figure: Hero X, the number one hero in existence.
His power, always contained beneath his skin, pulsed stronger now, like a river clashing against stone. Meanwhile, the chaos in the girl’s aura stirred—but not to harm, rather as a confused echo, searching.
It happened fast—too fast.
The girl’s eyes widened.
She seemed to see something in him, something that made the scarlet light around her vanish instantly. Her bare feet, once suspended in midair, touched the grass gently.
And then, she ran.
No—she teleported, though the distance was short. As if space itself bent to her will. Her small arms, too short to wrap around him fully, clung to him with unexpected strength. She pressed her face against X’s white pants, like a frightened cat seeking shelter.
“Brother…” she whispered, and a red light washed over her from head to toe.
The change was immediate.
Her red hair darkened, turning black as night. Her green eyes shifted to brown—just like his.
When she looked up, innocent and childlike, X couldn’t move.
That… truly surprised him.
Should he step back?
Logically, he should. It would be the sensible thing. But there are connections that transcend reason, forces drawn to each other like opposing tides. Two powers, distant poles, now entangled in a silent embrace.
X witnessed her magic.
And his responded.
As their energies collided, memories flowed freely:
A girl turned into a weapon. Parents reduced to ashes in an explosion. A twin lost amid gunfire. Experiments. Gems. Six of them, cursed and etched into her history like scars. An adulthood marked by fear, her power growing like a tumor, fed by pain.
No one warned her of the abyss she carried inside.
The chaos, always hungry, fed on her emotions: rage, despair, madness. A power like that, in trembling hands, could only end in sacrifice.
She had kidnapped an entire town. Created her own world, her own heaven and hell. Ripped lives from other universes like withered flowers.
They called her the Scarlet Witch.
For her power. For the time she bent, the reality she unraveled at will.
A version of him… but without control. Without peace.
X looked down. The girl—now with his same dark hair, his same brown eyes—was hugging him as if he were the last piece of the world she had left.
His large, steady hands lifted her to his chest.
“Yes, I’m your brother.”
The echo of those words resonated beyond the two of them.
You’re not alone.
Neither are you.
And in that moment, their chaos stilled, like a sea after a storm.
Patience had never been his virtue. Training rookies at work was tedious, but kids… kids were supposed to be simpler. Right?
The girl smiled, unaware of his doubts, ready to play along.
Or maybe—just maybe—by digging through her memories, X had triggered something irreversible. What remained of that cosmic entity, of the feared Scarlet Witch, was now just a creature with his eyes and surname. A little girl who existed in this world simply because he (or she) had imagined it.
He adjusted her with one arm while the other searched inside his jacket. With the ease of someone who had signed a thousand documents, he pulled out the family hukou. The new name gleamed on the paper, fresh and legitimate, as if it had always been there.
As easy as wishing it, he thought wryly.
His glasses slipped down his nose. He pushed them back with the back of his hand, a habitual gesture.
“A gem in the mud,” he chuckled, though he wasn’t sure which of them he meant.
But in the end, what could he do? This girl was like those stray cats that choose a human on a whim and refuse to let go. X didn’t protest.
They left the forest. The wind played with his dark hair, and he glanced down at the mud stains on his suit with resignation. Luckily, I’ve got more in the closet, he thought. Tomorrow was another day.
“Rib soup with vegetables doesn’t sound bad…” he muttered as they walked. The girl watched the streets with wide eyes, amazed. He didn’t blame her. “Although fàntuán is delicious too.”
Just imagining those sticky rice balls—filled with egg, lean meat, and seaweed—made his stomach growl.
“Rice balls…” the girl echoed, in a whisper so soft it nearly got carried away by the wind.
X stopped cold.
“Mhm?” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Clever. You learned the language just by listening.” A genuine smile appeared on his lips. “A prodigy. I like that.”
And he kept walking, his new sister in his arms and hunger by his side. The world kept turning, but something—something small and red like a bud—had changed forever.
The street food stall appeared before them like a beacon in the night, wrapped in tempting vapors: the sweet scent of steamed rice, the smoky touch of grilled meat, the earthy perfume of roasted seaweed. X stopped, and the girl—still holding his hand—did the same, her eyes glowing at the feast of smells.
The woman behind the counter, hands worn from work and smile warm, looked at them with curiosity.
“Two fàntuán, auntie,” X said, while the girl stood on tiptoes to get a better look.
The cook nodded efficiently. Her fingers, quick as birds, shaped the sticky rice around the fillings: golden egg, marinated pork bits, fresh vegetables. She wrapped them in bamboo leaves with movements perfected over years and dropped them into boiling water.
The girl watched, fascinated.
“Do you like cooking?” X asked, noticing her gaze.
She shook her head but pointed to the woman’s hands.
“Ah… it’s like magic, right?”
A shy nod.
The vendor, seeing the girl stretch her neck to watch every expert move, couldn’t help but smile tenderly.
“Is she your sister?” she asked, while wrapping another fàntuán with precise gestures.
X looked at the girl—her brown eyes glowing with curiosity, her fingers clean, no longer stained.
“She is, auntie,” he replied, and his voice sounded firmer than expected.
The fàntuán were ready in minutes. The woman handed them over, steaming, wrapped in rice paper. X paid with a few coins, and upon receiving them, noticed the girl blowing on hers seriously, mimicking an adult.
The first bite was an explosion: the rice, sticky and sweet; the meat, juicy; the seaweed, a salty contrast. The girl closed her eyes, savoring it like it was heavenly.
“Good?”
“Good,” she repeated, mouth full.
X smiled. Maybe this new life—with its unexpected responsibilities—wouldn’t be so bad.
Well, that’s what he thought.
“I’d like one too… please, ma’am.”
The new voice came like a familiar whisper. X didn’t need to look to know who it was: that calm tone, that perfect cadence. Lin Ling, the newly appointed hero of the Federation. The “good-hearted boy,” as they called him.
Even with a cap pulled low and his head bowed, there were things that couldn’t be hidden: the straight posture, firm shoulders, that disciplined military air. People had already learned to tell the difference between the perfection of the former Nice and Lin Ling, who never went unnoticed.
The vendor blinked, surprised. For a moment, her hands paused in the air, but professionalism triumphed over astonishment.
“Of course, young man,” she said, beginning to mold another fàntuán with fingers that barely trembled.
But the damage was done.
A murmur ran through the street. Heads turned. Footsteps approached. In seconds, they were surrounded: fans, onlookers, people holding up phones like offerings.
The girl shrank. Her hands, marked by those dark stains, rose instinctively. Her palms glowed with a faint crimson light—subtle but dangerous.
X reacted fast.
His hand covered hers, snuffing out the light before it fully emerged.
“We don’t do that in public,” he whispered, so softly only she could hear.
To his surprise, the girl nodded. No tantrum, no confusion. She simply understood—shockingly fast, as if she’d always known those unspoken rules.
“I-I’m sorry… I…” Lin Ling stammered, uncomfortable with the growing circle of people crowding out others just trying to get food.
His eyes, full of regret, sought out the man and the girl who still held her fàntuán like a treasure. With his usual warm smile, he crouched down to her level, trying to connect like he often did with children. The crowd parted for him, but before he could speak, the little one hid behind the man’s legs, clutching his pants tightly.
Lin Ling couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and sincere.
“Forgive me, miss,” he said, kneeling to meet her gaze. His voice was gentle, like wind rustling leaves. The girl peeked out, curious but not entirely trusting.
Her brown eyes, now full of life, turned to the man for confirmation.
“She’s just my little sister,” the man replied casually, adjusting his glasses with one finger while the other rested protectively on the girl’s head. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was something in his posture—something firm—that made it clear he wouldn’t allow further intrusion.
Lin Ling nodded, understanding. He stood gracefully, brushing invisible dust from his knee.
“I get it,” he said, though his gaze lingered on the pair with unhidden curiosity. “It’s a blessing to have siblings.”
The girl, now a little braver, nibbled on her fàntuán while eyeing the hero with a squint, as if trying to figure him out.
X smiled, but this time, words weren’t needed.
“Thank you. It’s an honor to meet a hero in person,” he said with a polite bow, his voice tinged with the kind of professional courtesy he used at the office. Too polished to be fully genuine, but respectful enough to pass.
Lin Ling stayed a moment longer than necessary, his eyes scanning X’s flawless demeanor. Something about that smile felt… familiar. As if behind those glasses and that perfect posture, something unnamed was hiding.
But the crowd kept pressing, phones kept recording, and duty called.
“The honor is mine,” he finally said, with a smile that couldn’t quite hide his curiosity.
As he walked away, X felt the girl squeeze his hand tighter.
“You don’t like him?” she whispered, with that childlike perceptiveness that could be unsettling.
X bent down to tuck a loose strand behind her ear.
“What heroes have to endure is complicated, little one. But don’t worry about that now.”
He held her fàntuán as she took another bite, already distracted by the sweet taste of rice.
The sun began to set, painting the streets in golden hues. X checked his watch.
“How about we take a few more for dinner?”
The girl nodded enthusiastically, worries forgotten for now.
And so, amid the murmur of the street and the aroma of food, they kept walking.
Two figures against the sunset.
One hiding secrets.
The other, a future yet to be written.