Chapter 25

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 25

Chapter Title: The Mayor's Lunchbox

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A few days had passed.

Or rather, it might be more accurate to say they had 'gone by'.

The word "passed" implied something flowing by naturally like water, but for Hanasia, these past few days felt less like a flow and more like a change.

Change. Yes, change.

Humans operate on simpler principles than one might think. This was the truth Hanasia had realized back at the orphanage.

A full belly means happiness, an empty one means misery.

Which meant her daily life had clearly shifted into the happiness category lately.

"Mmm~ Delicious!"

On the rooftop of a building in Neo Incheon's Namdong-gu, during a break from patrol.

In her hands was a luxurious bento box she'd never seen the likes of before.

What made it luxurious? For starters, it wasn't plastic. It was wood.

Real carved wood, lacquered to perfection—a wooden craft item.

People used something like this as a lunchbox container? It was beyond Hanasia's common sense.

It was worlds apart from the convenience store bentos she usually ate. No, this wasn't a lunchbox; it was closer to artwork.

Opening the lid released curls of steam. Perfectly grilled eel glistened atop white rice cooked the traditional way, accompanied by colorful seasoned vegetables, rolled omelet, braised lotus root, and more—a vibrant, meticulously prepared arrangement.

And the Post-it note stuck to the tied-down lid.

Why was there a "Heh heh" in parentheses? She decided not to think about it anymore. Ignorance is bliss sometimes.

The name seemed a bit suspicious, but the taste was anything but. No, calling it "not suspicious" was an insult. The taste was perfect. Miraculous.

"Since I'm not spending the sponsorship money, he sends food instead. This guy's impossible."

She grumbled with her mouth, but the smile tugging at her lips wouldn't fade.

Her one and only fan, "I'llwait".

Somehow knowing she hadn't touched a single penny of the sponsorship funds and was saving it all, he'd been sending these ultra-luxury bentos and snacks every day for the past few days.

The truth was, the reason these bentos started arriving was... well, extremely— no, mortifyingly embarrassing.

A few days ago, after finishing her night shift at the convenience ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠store, she'd had one can of beer. That single can was the root of it all.

In her beer-fueled haze, she'd habitually started a live stream.

[Uh... Huh? One viewer? Wow, Uncle I'llwait! You're watching again! Hehe.]

She was practically drunk. She spilled stories she'd never share sober, rambling on.

[Uncle, have I ever told you about my childhood? I grew up in an orphanage. As a kid, I stuck glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling and stared at them every night. The Big Dipper, Cassiopeia...]

With the alcohol kicking in, she couldn't control her emotions. Her shoulders started shaking as she choked up.

[I've wanted to be a star since I was little. A star that gives hope to someone. But... but lately, nothing's going right...]

Could she really become a star? Or did she even want to?

Such doubts writhed in a corner of her heart.

[Uncle, I had cup ramen again today. And the day before. Actually, it's been a week of cup ramen. But I have no money, so what can I do? D-rank heroes are... so hungry...]

In Maslow's hierarchy of needs, self-actualization sits at the very top.

But to reach that peak, the lower levels must first be fulfilled.

Physiological needs, safety needs, belongingness, esteem.

Only then comes self-actualization.

Hanasia was still wandering at the very first level.

[Haa... Sorry, Uncle. You didn't come to hear pathetic stuff like this... I was just having a really tough day... Sob, waaah...]

She'd whined and cried for a while before ending the stream and passing out. The next day, these luxury bentos started getting delivered.

At first, she tried refusing them. She already received plenty of sponsorships; ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠accepting this too felt wrong.

But the delivery guy's words were the clincher.

"If you don't take it, it'll all be thrown out, they said. The orderer instructed that if the recipient refuses, toss it straight in the trash."

Thrown in the trash? Something this expensive?

Food waste is a sin. Especially discarding food made with such care—it's practically a crime.

A hero can't commit a crime, can she?

So, pretending to reluctantly accept, she started eating them.

Of course, the "reluctance" was just for show; inside, she looked forward to it every day.

Thanks to them, color returned to her gaunt cheeks, and post-battle fatigue recovery sped up.

And above all, her heart felt full.

Just knowing someone was looking out for her.

Life felt worth living.

Yes, this was it.

The small happinesses. The comfort of a warm meal.

With warmth like this, she felt she could endure the hardships of hero work no matter what.

"Alright, time to get back to patrol!"

With her belly full as always, Hanasia stretched and stood up.

Time to resume her role as a cog in society's machine.

She was a diligent hero who patrolled the same area at the same time every day.

Hanasia began slowly flying around Namdong-gu, resuming her patrol.

"Sir! Please wait for the signal at the crosswalk!"

"Hey, mister! You can't just toss your cigarette butts anywhere!"

"Kids, wear your helmets when riding scooters!"

Truly the kind of things a neighborhood beat cop would do.

The D-rank hero patrol system.

On the surface, it was touted as "providing real-world experience for the next generation of heroes," but in reality, it was exploiting passion and dreams for free labor.

It lured in young, naive hero hopefuls to patrol cities for four hours a day. If you hired actual civil servants or security firms for this, how much would the public safety budget cost?

But dangle the carrot called "dreams," and the youth gladly do it.

For free. No, they even spent their own money. A clever system in Korean society.

But Polaris gladly—no, joyfully—carried out the duties.

A single small smile from a citizen, a simple "Thanks for your work"—those were worth more than any reward.

"Whoa, it's Polaris!"

"Sis, you're so sparkly!"

"Catch the horned rabbits again!"

The kids waved excitedly upon seeing her.

Thanks to her recent hard work, she was starting to become known around the neighborhood.

"Hi, kids! Play safe today too!"

Hanasia waved back with a bright smile.

This was it. This was why she became a hero.

The sparkle of admiration and expectation in the children's eyes.

That alone was enough.

Even as a D-rank.

In moments like these, she truly felt like a hero.

"Another peaceful day."

What more could she ask for?

As Hanasia murmured contentedly with a pleased smile—

KABOOM!

A massive explosion erupted from the bustling street below.

The time it took for that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠peace to shatter: exactly one second.

Citizens' cheerful noise turned to terrified screams in an instant.

Happy sounds became sounds of despair: also one second.

And the cloyingly sweet smell assaulting her nostrils.

This smell. Unforgettable.

"No way..."

Hanasia's face drained of color.

Rushing to the rooftop railing and looking down, the worst scene unfolded before her eyes.

The street was turning into a giant cream cake.

Sticky chocolate rivers flowed, colorful macarons flying like artillery shells.

Macaron shells. What a grotesque combination.

French elegant desserts turned into weapons of war.

And at the center, a twintailed girl wielding a lollipop-shaped staff.

"Alright, everyone! Dessert time is here! Special cream edition today!"

C-rank villain, Sugargirl.

The memory she'd wanted to erase from her mind resurfaced.

The humiliating defeat, her body covered in sticky caramel syrup.

The helplessness of being glued to the asphalt, unable to move.

And Sugargirl's mocking laughter.

Physical wounds heal with time, but emotional scars sometimes follow you forever.

And they reopen and bleed at the most unexpected moments.

Like right now.

She was scared.

Her legs trembled; she could barely stand.

She wanted to run.

She couldn't win. She hadn't last time. She wouldn't this time either.

The skill gap was clear: D-rank vs. C-rank. Apprentice vs. full-fledged.

But should she step up anyway? Suffer humiliation again? Lose powerlessly once more?

But...

She checked her communicator.

No active heroes nearby.

The nearest B-rank hero team was estimated to arrive in 30 minutes.

If she left the sugar witch unchecked for 30 minutes, how many people would get hurt? How much destruction?

"If not me... then who...?"

Her lips went dry.

Yes. Right now, the only hero who could stop that villain here was her.

She wasn't stepping up because she could win.

She was stepping up because she had to.

Only acting when victory is assured isn't courage—it's calculation.

Stepping up despite knowing fear—that's true courage.

That's why heroes are heroes.

Beings defined by will, not win rates. By heart, not ability.

"A single ray of light piercing the darkness... Your North Star... Polaris arrives!"

Her entrance line lacked its usual confidence.

Hanasia—Polaris—blocked Sugargirl's path.

"Oh? Look who it is. The sparkly princess I pickled in my syrup last time?"

Sugargirl spotted her and laughed exaggeratedly.

"No learning ability, huh? Came back for another spanking? Or do you like getting sticky? Masochist?"

"Stop it, Sugargirl! I won't forgive you for tormenting people!"

"Forgive? Pfft! Why should I need your forgiveness? I just want to sweeten up this bland, boring world."

"I'll stop you!"

"You? Your faint starlight couldn't even light a birthday candle!!"

The attack began the moment her words ended.

Having diligently prepared for days, the scale was incomparable to before.

Premeditated malice is more destructive than impulsive evil.

Hardened sugar cubes poured like machine-gun fire.

Sticky maple syrup surged like waves.

Hanasia could barely dodge and block.

'She's stronger... Way stronger than last time!'

Evil grows too. Good isn't the only thing that progresses. That's the world's balance.

She felt pathetic for getting cocky over catching a few horned rabbits.

"Starlight Shot!"

The starlight from her fingertips was blocked by Sugargirl's roll cake shield and vanished pathetically.

"That's all you got? Not even a tickle!"

A chocolate whip extended from Sugargirl's hand and lashed Hanasia's back.

"Ugh!"

She screamed and tumbled to the ground.

Her hero suit tore grotesquely.

Her body was smeared in sticky whipped cream and chocolate.

Humiliating in itself, but the bigger issue was the restriction on movement.

Stickiness steals freedom.

'Can I really win?'

Negative thoughts swirled in her mind as she struggled to stand.

Doubt. Suspicion. Lack of self-trust. Skepticism about victory.

The human brain is optimized for trauma.

Good memories fade easily; bad ones remain vivid.

Past failures flashed by like a montage.

Freezing up, unable to do anything, the first time she faced a villain.

The despair of failing the hero ranking exam.

Internet comments calling D-rank hero applications a waste of tax money.

Countless nights crying alone, worn down by disdain and indifference.

Records of failure. History of defeat.

Those experiences crashed over her at once, crushing her.

"Sob... Ahh..."

No matter how hard she tried, was this her limit?

Her legs gave out.

The star called "Polaris" was dimly losing its light.

"Aw, already done? Lame. I thought we'd play more."

Sugargirl raised her lollipop staff high.

The tip morphed into a cake knife.

This was the end.

Hanasia closed her eyes, giving up everything.

Born an orphan, she'd thrashed about dreaming of becoming a hero, but ended up as nothing.

Just a pathetic glow-in-the-dark star struggling to shine alone in a dark, cold reality.

Sorry, Uncle.

For failing to live up to your expectations.

For wasting your investment.

For betraying your heart.

Just as despair was about to swallow her whole—

Beep-beep-beep!

A blaring alert rang from the communicator in her pocket.

Forcing her eyes open, a familiar nickname appeared on the screen.

Ten million won. An amount in a whole different league.

But the money wasn't what mattered.

It was the message below.

No trace of his usual "Heh heh" playfulness.

"Saying that now... such a cliché line..."

So trite it felt awkward.

But sometimes, the most hackneyed words hold the greatest power.

Old truths outshine new words.

Clichés are clichés because they're universal truths.

Valid even after thousands, tens of thousands of repetitions.

'Stars shine brighter in the dark.'

A phrase she'd repeated to herself hundreds, thousands of times since childhood.

So overused it had lost all impact.

But right now, the sincerity from that person beyond the screen changed everything.

"You idiot... Uncle..."

Heat welled in her eyes.

The same words mean different things depending on who says them.

Muttering to yourself versus someone offering them—they're worlds apart.

It poured oil on the dying embers in her heart.

No, not oil—starlight.

Yes.

"I can't give up now!!"

Hanasia gritted her teeth and pushed off the ground.

She pulled her broken body back to its feet.

Humanity's most basic—and most heroic—act.

Standing up after falling.

A soft starlight emanated from her entire body.