Building Self-Esteem

"Th-thank you, Professor..."

Sitting across from me in a quiet corner of the cafeteria, Ariel offered her thanks while nervously gauging my reaction.

"Of course. Eat up, enjoy your meal."

"Y-yes!"

When I offered a gentle smile, she bowed her head once more in deep gratitude before reaching out a trembling hand toward the feast laid before her.

"...Ah, um."

Suddenly, Ariel's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gaze flickered between my tray and her own, and a flush of embarrassment tinted her cheeks.

It really is a mountain, isn't it?

She had piled an astonishing amount of food onto her plate. Aside from the Salisbury steak that cafeteria staff served in fixed portions, every single side dish was stacked nearly twice as high as mine. But in my eyes, growing teenagers deserved to eat at least that much. To be healthy, one had to eat well, and for heroes who burned obscene amounts of calories daily, proper nutrition was an absolute necessity.

"Don't feel self-conscious. Eat as much as you want," I said, giving her a reassuring nudge. "Eating well is part of a hero's duty."

"I-in that case, thank you for the meal!"

With my blessing putting her reservations to rest, a determined spark ignited in Ariel's eyes, and she dove in.

"Mmh..."

Her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel storing nuts as she devoured the food. An involuntary shudder of pure bliss ran through her small frame. "It's so good..."

Look at her go.

Watching her with a warm, satisfied smile, I soon drifted into quiet contemplation.

...Still, are her finances really in that dire of a state?

Her late guardian, Justia, had raked in astronomical sums as the world's Rank 1 Hero, yet her personal wealth had remained remarkably modest. She had consistently donated nearly every cent of her fortune to orphanages and disaster relief zones. An absolute paragon of virtue who possessed overwhelming power yet devoted her entire being solely to others—that was the kind of hero Justia had been.

Even so, it doesn't make sense for Ariel to be this broke...

No matter how aggressively Justia had given away her wealth, a reasonable inheritance should have been left behind for Ariel. So why had the girl been starving for days on end?

"Hmm...?"

As I pondered the puzzle, I felt a longing gaze fixed on me from across the table.

"........."

Ariel, who had already scraped her tray almost completely clean, was staring blankly at the Salisbury steak on mine before hastily darting her eyes aside.

Grumble...

At that exact moment, a faint, phantom ache twinged in my own stomach.

"Right."

Growing kids certainly operated on a different scale.

"Here, you take this."

"Wh-what? Ah, no, I couldn't...!"

"I'm not particularly fond of Salisbury steak anyway."

Besides, the hunger gnawing at my gut was merely an echo, a simulated phantom pain. Without a shred of hesitation, I slid the steak onto her tray. Ariel stared back at me, wide-eyed and stunned.

"...Thank you so much, Professor."

As I met her gaze with an easy grin, her face turned bright red. She cast her eyes downward and murmured her thanks in a hushed, trembling voice.

"Nom."

Perhaps overcome with embarrassment, she stuffed a bite of steak into her mouth, avoided my eyes, and pulled out her smartphone to look at the screen.

Staring at a screen while eating ruins your digestion.

I watched her with mild amusement, but as she chewed on the steak, her expression suddenly darkened.

"........."

Her jaw froze midway through a chew. She stared fixedly at the display, her eyes turning hollow.

"Um, Professor."

"Yes?"

"May I excuse myself to the restroom?"

"...Of course, go ahead."

Quietly gritting her teeth, Ariel stood from the table and hurried off toward the corridor.

".........."

Ding-dong, ding♪

Just as I was gazing after her retreating back with growing concern, my phone chimed and vibrated in my pocket.

I wondered who it could be, but it was just Pandora. Then again, she was the only person in the world who ever contacted me when I wasn't operating under my real identity. Though whether forcibly pushing chat messages through a hacked device really counted as "contacting" someone was up for debate.

As I quietly scanned the screen, a message arrived written in an uncharacteristically solemn tone.

A surge of heat rushed straight to my head.

Ever since discovering the existence of the "kaijin," a single question had gnawed at the back of my mind. What kind of entity had killed Justia—the world's strongest hero, a titan on an entirely different plane from ordinary superhumans? Could the Non-Standard magical beast responsible have been a kaijin all along?

My suspicion had been spot-on.

"...Are you certain?" I muttered under my breath.

The fiery heat boiling in my head began to cool. No, it went far past cooling—it plummeted into frigid, pitch-black ice.

"I see."

The vague, shadowy targets of my vengeance had finally snapped into crystal-clear focus.

"Then I'll just have to track every single one of them down and slaughter them."

First, kill every kaijin involved in Justia's death. Then, rip apart every other kaijin walking the face of this earth until their entire species was wiped out down to the very last seed. Starting today, that would be my primary objective.

"........."

Clutching the smartphone in a white-knuckled grip, I brought my racing thoughts under control and shifted my gaze toward the empty chair across from me—where my other primary objective had been sitting just moments ago.

"Pandora."

My second absolute priority was raising Ariel, Justia's sole surviving blood relative, into the greatest hero alive. To achieve that, I needed to understand her current situation down to the finest detail.

"Dig up some background on Ariel for me."

"...I will, so please, just check."

Having sealed a devil's pact to sit through an all-night, nine-hour playthrough of an otaku dating sim in Pandora's room, files began flooding into my phone almost instantly.

Wondering how on earth she had pulled it up this fast, I tapped on the image. A deep frown settled over my face.

Massive sums of money had been drained from the account over the past few months. Every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠single recipient was an organization that had practically relied on Justia's donations to survive.

"So that's what happened."

Now I finally understood why Ariel was starving. She had systematically emptied her inheritance, distributing it among the charities Justia had supported. She likely couldn't bear the thought of squandering her sister's legacy on herself. Like sister, like sister—she shared not only Justia's appearance, but her selfless heart as well.

Silly girl.

Unfortunately, her habit of turning into a complete fool whenever justice was involved was also an exact match. What good was charity if she couldn't even afford to feed herself? I clearly needed to find a way to assist her financially.

"Pandora, run an audit on every single place listed here."

My mind spun rapidly as I issued the instruction. These were foundations Justia had supported, so outright embezzlement was unlikely. But if, by some terrible chance, any of these organizations were playing games with her legacy, Trauma would pay them a personal visit.

As my eyes narrowed in thought, another large file appeared in the chat.

"What's this...?"

I tapped it absentmindedly, only for a long list of search queries to fill my screen.

Staring at the logs in disbelief, my brow furrowed as I whispered into the phone.

"Where did you get all this?"

"Hey, that's a massive invasion of privacy! I just asked for basic background info."

Flipping the blame onto me with zero shame, Pandora promptly sent another batch of screenshots.

A foul taste coated my mouth. I went to hit the back button, but as the contents of the thread deteriorated, my expression hardened and I kept scrolling.

The screenshot ended there.

".........."

My chest aches.

I understood how she felt all too well. When someone is suddenly thrust into the limelight and becomes the center of global attention, it is only human nature to search one's own name to see what the world is saying. Back when Justia first gained fame, she too had stumbled across venomous online posts, and her self-esteem had taken a hit. But Justia had already been a fully realized hero, capable of shaking off the malice and moving forward.

Ariel, who had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠barely taken her very first steps as an aspirant, possessed no such armor.

Is this why my heart has been aching so persistently lately?

The crushing pressure to surpass her sister—to surpass me. The steady erosion of her self-worth under the harsh, mocking glare of the public eye. Searching her own name in a desperate attempt to grasp even a sliver of validation, only for the bile she found to devour her from the inside out.

She put on a brave face, acting bright and cheerful on the outside, but underneath, she had already been driven to the edge.

As I stared at the phone with a grim scowl, one last file came through.

"...Ha."

Scanning the image, I clicked my tongue in utter disgust.

Pure, unadulterated slander had been published and disguised as legitimate journalism.

The headline was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so absurd that I didn't even feel anger at first. But as I stared in silent silence, a sharp, stinging throb flared behind my eyelids.

"........."

Reflected in the polished metal surface of the cafeteria tray, my eyes were bloodshot and red. Exactly like someone who was hiding in a bathroom stall right now, weeping her eyes out in suffocating silence.

"Pandora."

I rose quietly from the table, my hand instinctively drifting to brush against the mask concealed beneath my coat.

"Can you trace the location of the reporter who wrote this?"

"I'll play the visual novel's sequel with you, too."

Rebuild Ariel's self-esteem.

It seemed that would be the very first assignment in my mission to raise a hero.

That night, inside the designated safe zone of Navire Artificial Island.

Clack... clack-clack...

Cheon Sang-myeong, a reporter for News Guide, lifted his hands from his keyboard and stretched his arms above his head with a contented groan.

"Today's article is pulling numbers, too."

The explosive metrics from the piece he had published that morning reflected in his eyes. Capitalizing on the trending buzzwords "Justia" and "Academy Corruption" had been the absolute right call. It hadn't even been up for a full twenty-four hours, yet hundreds of comments were already rolling in.

"Hmm..."

Humming a jaunty tune, he browsed down to the comment section, only for his eyebrows to twitch slightly.

As expected, the discourse was an absolute cesspool of vitriol.

"Well, I only reported the facts."

Scratching the back of his head, Cheon Sang-myeong muttered the justification under his breath and hit the back button. It was an objective fact that Justia's younger sister was facing allegations of unfair admission, and it was equally factual that she had botched her entrance test. His piece was built purely on those truths. How the public chose to interpret those facts was entirely up to the readers. In other words, as a mere messenger, he was completely blameless.

"Besides, clicks and upvotes are innocent."

Cheon Sang-myeong was well aware that his writing leaned heavily into sensationalism. But in an era where shocking scandals erupted daily, vanilla reporting simply couldn't compete for attention. Viewed from that perspective, wasn't he actually a commendable journalist, constantly feeding the public's appetite for compelling drama?

Ring-ring-ring♪

"Huh?"

Just as he turned back toward his word processor, the sudden chime of his phone interrupted his thoughts. He glared at the screen in mild annoyance.

...At this hour?

He was meticulous about separating his personal life from his job; no one should have been calling him regarding work so late at night.

Is it a protest call?

Every now and then—or rather, quite frequently—people called him demanding retractions or screaming complaints. Especially whenever a comment section caught fire like this.

"Tsk..."

Grimacing with an ominous foreboding, Cheon Sang-myeong swiped the screen and brought the phone to his ear.

"Who is this?"

Right on cue, the voice on the other end confirmed his identity.

"Yeah, that's me. Look, I don't take work-related calls at—"

Assuming this was just another angry reader, he answered in an irritated snap, only for a strange anomaly to cut him short.

"Ah, so it really is you."

".........?"

For some reason, the voice hadn't come from the phone pressed to his ear. It had come from his bedroom window. Cheon Sang-myeong whipped his head around, eyes bulging in shock.

"Wh-what the...!"

"Good work, Pandora."

Perched casually upon his windowsill was a figure cloaked in darkness, wearing an all-too-familiar mask.

"Y-you! Where do you think you are—"

Snapping out of his stupor, Cheon Sang-myeong scrambled to his feet, knocking his chair back as he stumbled away in panic.

"...Wait. That mask...?"

"Excuse me, reporter. I have a question for you."

Gazing down at the trembling man whose eyes were wide with dawning horror, Trauma spoke in a low, measured voice.

"Are you right-handed? Or left-handed?"

Cheon Sang-myeong stood paralyzed, terror choking off any words he tried to form. Watching him stammer in frozen silence, Trauma let out a soft, understanding murmur.

"Ah, right. You type on a keyboard with both hands anyway."

A thick bead of cold sweat broke out across Cheon Sang-myeong's forehead and rolled down his pale face.