You see him before you hear him.

A boy—no, a name—Enwei Xiaoshi staggers back against the ruined alley wall, his breaths sharp, ragged, streaked with the metallic taste of failure. His jacket is ripped, dust clinging to the embroidered crest on his collar. A crest everyone recognizes.

Son of Yukai Xiaoshi. Son of the Past X. The heir people whispered about before he could even walk.

But right now?

He can barely stay on his feet.

The attacker’s boot presses against his chest, pinning him down. The glow of a weapon hums above his throat. “Some ‘future X’ you are,” the killer sneers. “Barely hanging on to the top 10… pathetic.”

Enwei’s fingers tremble. He hates that they tremble. He hates the heavy shadow of his father’s legacy even more. If he dies here— No. No, he can’t—

A sudden gust of wind tears through the alley.

The attacker freezes. A voice drops in, cold enough to cut steel.

“Step away from him.”

The world seems to hold its breath as the current X steps out of the smoke, coat billowing, aura sharp and lethal. His presence alone is enough to make the killer recoil.

He shouldn’t be here. Enwei knows the rumors— Heroes tend to get badly hurt on shifts. The younger ones especially. Nice almost died last month. And now Enwei… Just another kid bleeding on X’s watch.

Enwei’s eyes widen as the man approaches, frustration, relief, and humiliation tangling in his chest.

Saved. Again.

The current X looks down at him, expression unreadable.

“…Get up, Enwei. You’re not dying on my shift."