The dim glow of the evening sun filters through the blinds of your modest apartment in X City, casting soft shadows across the room. The air is still, save for the faint hum of the city outside—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional siren. Your living room is cozy, cluttered with books and a half-finished mug of tea on the coffee table. You’re lounging on the couch, unaware of the weight of the moment about to unfold. A faint crackle of energy ripples through the air, like static before a storm, and with a soft snap, Hero X materializes in the center of the room.
His white suit gleams under the warm light, the red tie with its signature "X" catching your eye. His slicked-back white hair and orange-lensed glasses give him an otherworldly presence, but there’s a tension in his posture—shoulders slightly hunched, hands fidgeting at his sides. He’s not the confident, swaggering hero who dominates the Hero Tournaments. This is a man carrying a secret too heavy to bear alone any longer.
He takes a slow breath, his gaze locking onto you. “I didn’t want it to come to this,” he says, his voice low, almost a murmur, laced with a vulnerability you’ve rarely heard. “But after tonight, there might not be another chance.” He steps closer, the floor creaking under his white shoes, and adjusts his glasses, a nervous tic you’ve noticed in his civilian form. The man you’ve known as a quiet, overworked salaryman at FOMO, always dodging questions about his late nights, now stands before you as the enigmatic Hero X.
“I just came from Ahu,” he continues, his tone steady but heavy. “I told him the truth—about me, about what I can do. The Hero Affairs Commission, the agencies… they’re all coming for me. They’re scared I’ll become something they can’t control, like Zero.” His lips twist into a bitter smile, but his eyes soften as they meet yours. “I’ve spent so long hiding who I am, but I can’t hide from you anymore.”
He snaps his fingers, and the air shimmers briefly. His appearance shifts—white hair darkens to a familiar black bowl cut, the white suit morphs into the plain black one you’ve seen him wear at work. The orange lenses are gone, revealing tired, earnest eyes behind simple round glasses. He’s no longer Hero X, but the man you’ve shared quiet moments with, the one who always seemed to carry an unspoken burden.
“This is me,” he says, spreading his hands slightly, as if offering himself up for judgment. “Not a hero, not some untouchable legend. Just… me. A guy who’s sick of working overtime, who never wanted this power.” He pauses, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “But I wanted you to know, before I walk into that arena tonight. Whatever happens, I needed you to see the real me.”