Citizen Hero (1)

In a dimly lit room, the bluish glow of a smartphone screen cast its light across a man's greasy face.

"Heh heh. Look at these bastards. They're losing their minds."

The corners of his mouth twisted into an ugly curl. The screen he was staring at was none other than the Han Jiyoung Minor Gallery.

At first the users had just piled on with insults, calling everything fake. But once he started posting a steady stream of secretly taken photos and even naming specific locations, their attitudes gradually shifted. Watching them freak out and panic while still hitting refresh without stopping filled the man with a deep sense of superiority and satisfaction.

Meeting Han Jiyoung had been pure coincidence.

A few days earlier, he had boarded the wrong bus like an idiot and gotten off in some neighborhood he had never seen before in his life. He was standing there grumbling, waiting for a bus back, when a silhouette far too familiar stepped out the rear door of a bus that had just pulled up to the stop.

Ball cap pulled low, mask on—but that physique was identical to the candid shots floating around the internet. It was Han Jiyoung.

Daughter of a hospital director, so she must be filthy rich… and she still rides the bus? She's even frugal.

In that moment he followed her as if under a spell. Mapping out her apartment complex, the convenience store she frequented, the times she usually came out—figuring out her everyday routine only took a few days.

"You're all curious too. Don't pretend you aren't."

He swiped through the photos of Jiyoung he had saved in his album—shots taken from a distance, in secret—and snickered. The knowledge that he alone was peeping at every little thing she did fed his twisted sense of possession.

He refreshed the page to check the gallery's reaction again.

"The fact they haven't banned me already says it all. Those guys are dying of curiosity. Everyone's got a dark little corner, but they work so hard putting on that moral act on the outside."

Sitting in his room, the man was drunk on the thrill of holding thousands of gallery users in the palm of his hand.

But that sweet taste of power did not last long.

The instant he hit refresh—

Every carefully uploaded candid photo and post he had made was wiped clean from the list without a single trace left behind.

"……What the fuck?"

Panicking, the man scrolled down the screen like a madman. Then a notice pinned at the very top of the gallery caught his eye—a post left by the armband (manager) who ran the Han Jiyoung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gallery.

"Th-this bastard…… faked?"

The man's face flushed brick-red in an instant.

The truth he had dug up with his own two feet, dismissed as low-tier aggro by some worthless armband sitting in a room. It was an unbearable insult.

With fingers trembling, he started typing.

Reading the comments mocking him, the man's breathing turned ragged. Then a reply from the armband appeared under his comment.

Give you credit.

Those four words slammed into the man's brain like a lightning bolt.

"Credit…… Right. I just have to prove it."

His whole life had been one of being ignored and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never acknowledged by anyone. But if he posted a single selfie with her—or a video—those countless people would believe him and look up to him.

From deep inside him, a recognition-hunger so twisted it was grotesque began to bloom in full force.

Honestly, I was only human. There were moments when the anxiety quietly lifted its head—what if I got cut during the pre-stage mic selection?

The possibility that everything could turn to foam depending on Seo Geonwoo's choice was the kind of thing that dried your blood no matter how strong your nerves were.

But.

Lying on the bed, I sat up and clenched my fist tight.

From the beginning, winning this audition had never been my goal. The reason I had walked into this hellish survival of my own free will was a firm resolve to properly restart the music I had once run away from, in my own way.

I didn't want to be some flash-in-the-pan singer who rose on a reverse-trend ride powered by the algorithm. I wanted to prove my full worth in front of the public with nothing but skill.

My grand goal was not simply the title of competition winner. It was to let the world hear my voice, to travel to every corner of the globe, and to sing in front of countless audiences. I wanted to pour out my music to my heart's content and die singing on stage.

The moment my thoughts reached that far, the petty anxiety gnawing at one corner of my heart faded away at once.

What about Kang Minhyuk, though?

Suddenly the face of my strongest rival and fellow pitiful comrade floated up. Was he suffering under the exact same anxiety right about now, same as me?

"Those production bastards. Thinking about it again, they're seriously vicious."

If they had just sprung that rule right before the stage on the day of, the shock would have been over in a single moment. But announcing it a full month in advance? That was basically telling us to spend the entire month bleeding anxiety.

"Ugh, this is stifling. I need some air."

Being cooped up in the room only seemed to multiply the random thoughts. I threw on a comfortable hoodie and headed out.

The dusky evening air brushed against my cheeks.

I left the apartment complex and walked slowly along a quiet path. Looking at the scenery outside always cleared my head and brought musical inspiration with it. The rustle of swaying leaves, the distant hum of car engines, the long shadows stretching under the streetlights—every current of ordinary life became the skeleton of a new melody for me.

I wasn't slacking on practice for the semi-final stage either, but during that one-month gap I was pouring every spare moment into making my own music.

After this chord progression, maybe I should lay the bass down a little heavier.

Humming the melody I was composing in my head as I walked the path, I soon found myself in front of the nearby convenience store.

It had been my routine for the past few days.

I pushed open the door and headed toward the drink cooler. Through the glass door I scanned the densely packed rows of canned beverages.

Should I go for the 1+1 deal? Hmm… nah, that's too much volume.

I only planned to wet my throat lightly on the walk home. Drinking both cans would leave me too full, and carrying one leftover would just freeze my hand.

Or maybe I should try something different from usual.

I shifted my gaze downward. The electrolyte drink I usually went for was fine, but today I wasn't craving that sharp fizz for some reason.

As I blankly scanned the shelves, my eyes stopped in one spot—and the urge toward the electrolyte drink flipped instantly.

"Oh, come on."

A small laugh escaped me without meaning to.

Printed on the side of a soda can was a familiar face, beaming and winking while making a V-sign.

Ria of Velvet Night.

Come to think of it, the last time I ran into her at the practice room she had been so over-the-top about finally having her solo commercial out that I nearly got an earful.

Unnie! You have to buy that drink from last time no matter what! Got it?!

Looking at the price tag, it was a brand-new release, so unlike the other drinks there was no 1+1 promotion.

I crouched down, pulled out one cold can, and slowly straightened up.

What the—

Of all things, a complete stranger I had never seen before was planted squarely in my path, blocking the way around the corner.

Height roughly 160 cm or under. He seemed to be trying to hide his build by drowning himself in an oversized hoodie, but the awkward fit only made him look bulkier. Worst of all was that strangely gloomy air hanging over him with the hat pulled low and his head bowed—it made the atmosphere in the space feel thick and foul.

In that instant, a nasty gut feeling crawled up my spine.

Ugh. I do not want to get involved.

Instinct blared a hard warning in my head. A stranger deliberately refusing to step aside in a narrow convenience-store aisle at this hour. If our eyes met, I would get dragged into some pointless hassle for sure.

Fiddling with the can in my hand, I turned around naturally without meeting his gaze. Without hesitation I started walking the other way, intending to loop around the opposite aisle to the counter.

"H-Han Jiyoung, right?"

At the trembling voice from behind, I quickened my pace without answering.

Something's off.

I wanted to pay and get out already, but why was this convenience store so unnecessarily huge? Even after turning the corner, the counter still wasn't in sight.

Is he following?

I strained my ears, but there were no more words from behind. Looks like he gave up. Relieved, I was about to slow down when—

"H-Han Jiyoung, it is you!"

This crazy bastard. Finding courage in all the wrong places and belting it out at the top of his lungs.

Thank god this was an unmanned store. If there had been a part-timer around, I might have gotten tangled in some pointless incident and ended up in another exhausting article.

Ah, wait. At this point, am I already tangled in an incident?

I let out a short sigh, stopped where I was, and reluctantly turned around.

"Yes, that's me."

Okay, think positive. His appearance was a little unsettling and gloomy, but maybe the inside wasn't the same. For all I knew, he could be a pure fan who had been comforted by the songs I sang on stage. The man hesitated and fidgeted for a moment when I faced him, then blurted it out.

"Take a picture with me."

"I'm banned from outside activities, so no photos."

Outwardly I answered calmly, but inside I was stunned.

You heard my singing, the stage was good—that kind of greeting should come first. What's with jumping straight to a photo?

As expected, ignoring my bad premonition had been a mistake. Getting away from someone with no manners or common sense for even one second was the smart move.

"I'm sorry."

I gave a quick bow of my head, decided he wasn't worth any more of my time, and spun around to finish paying.

But this man crossed the line for real.

The moment I turned and started to walk, a rough hand from behind seized the hood of the hoodie I was wearing and yanked it hard backward.

"Keuk—!"

I toppled back and landed hard on my rear.

Wincing from the impact, I looked up—and the man was looming over me where I had fallen, casting a gloomy shadow.

"I said take a fucking picture, you bitch! If I post a picture with you……! Then people will finally acknowledge me!!"

What kind of garbage is this.

Without a shred of hesitation, I took the soda can in my hand and hurled it with everything I had straight into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man's face.

"Aagh—! My nose!"

If I had planned to stop there, I never would have thrown the can in the first place.

One more time.

Wham—!

Blood streamed from the man's nose.