Don't You Recognize My Face?

Dan Chuyeon set an apple floating in the empty air. It was ripe and red, so plump and full that it looked sweet from the sight of it alone.

"Ngh...!"

His brow knotted. He glared at the apple as if it were the sworn enemy of his entire life, and under that burning stare the fruit seemed liable to ripen even redder. Sweat beaded on his forehead — proof that his focus had climbed as high as it could go.

"Hnnnngh—!"

The fingers resting on the peel twitched. A small pulse of energy born at his fingertips seeped into the apple, and the skin came away as if the fruit were undressing itself. Not a scrap of flesh clung to it.

Dan Chuyeon's brow smoothed. The moment he ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had waited for, and waited for, had finally arrived.

"I did it!"

He threw both arms overhead, unable to contain himself. There was no holding in the thrill of succeeding at a task that had given him nothing but failure.

"That's my boy. Your power's taken a real step up."

"It was really hard."

Seated on the hospital bed, Mi Soryeong clapped, bright with delight at her son's success.

Dan Chuyeon set the apple on a plate and gave it a light tap. At the touch, it fell into eight neat slices.

"Here. Have some."

"Ahh."

He speared a slice with a fork and held it out, and Mi Soryeong took it from him with a happy little hum through her nose.

"It's so much better when my son cuts it. Is that because you used your power?"

"You've already eaten plenty. Last time you said if I gave you too much, you'd get fat."

"This time is different. There's success in this apple."

"I've still got a long way to go."

Dan Chuyeon glanced at the basket of fruit he had brought for training. Pineapple, pear, mango, kiwi — color after color packed in together. He drew out the pineapple. Even gripped in both hands, it had a thickness he could barely contain.

"I only just managed the apple. When am I ever supposed to get to this?"

"Save the modesty. You're doing well. You thought up your own way to train, and you've kept at it. I'm not sure even a pro hero could manage that much."

"A hero's whole life is training. How am I supposed to compare myself to people like that?"

"You've been through things even pros never see, and listen to you fuss."

Mi Soryeong stroked her son's hair. What met her palm felt limp, the life gone out of it, and her heart ached. He put on a sturdy front, but she could see how badly this was wearing on him. How could it not? His father had gone to fight the worst villain alive, his master had been kidnapped, and his mother was lying in a hospital bed.

Experience had matured him, yes, but this child was still a high school boy. Without a pause to breathe, he had been struck by a tangle of ordeals that even an adult would struggle to endure. Of course his body and his mind were exhausted.

I need to get back on my feet...

The body that hung slack and weak, against every wish of her heart, felt hateful to her. It was a housewife's body now, nothing like the old days, but it was not a body that ought to collapse over nothing. In her youth this would have been unimaginable. Hospitalized from a shock to the mind — she, who could fight ten days and ten nights and never tire.

When I get home, I need to get my edge back.

Unlike her son and her husband, she was an ordinary person, with no superpower to her name. Even so, she ought to at least be able to look after her own body.

"Mom. Stop petting my head."

"Ah. Sorry."

Lost in those thoughts, she had thoroughly mussed his hair. She snatched her hand back at once, and Dan Chuyeon mashed it flat again, pouting.

"Never mind that. How's school? Break's over. Are ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they making you go in?"

"I only stopped by the day break ended. After that, classes have been online. It's a disaster out there. Parents are saying they won't send their kids, and there are stories from other places about villains raiding schools. Nothing anyone can do."

"That's a relief. So the school had some common sense."

"Plenty of them don't. Kids at other schools are going in like normal. They've lost their minds."

Mi Soryeong held her tongue. In truth, Dan Chuyeon's school had meant to resume regular classes as well, until Dan Miryu put a stop to it. The school belonged to the Dan clan, so the remedy had been a simple one.

"Are you eating properly? You're on your own. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm buying everything on your card. How could I not be fine?"

"Don't just live on takeout. Keep the place clean, too."

"Yeah, yeah."

A worried scolding was about to come pouring out, so Dan Chuyeon used his training as an excuse and fixed his attention on the pineapple. Mi Soryeong gave a bitter little smile and looked out the window.

The job ought to be finished by now... right?

One corner of her heart was still heavy. Had the subjugation ended in success? Was her friend alive? People said no news was good news, but the longer the silence stretched, the larger her fear became.

Nothing's happened. It can't have.

Watching her son wrestle with the pineapple, she comforted herself. She hoped no danger would reach this child. She hoped he would see only a clean future. Even if it was impossible, she wanted to give him that.

Then the door of the room slid open.

"Hm?"

"Huh?"

Mother and son looked toward the door at the same time. In the opening stood a young man with a cap pulled low.

"...Who are you?"

Dan Chuyeon rose slowly, on his guard. This was a VVIP room. No one but family and those with business here could come calling, and the security around it was professional. It was not a place a person could reach even by taking a wrong turn.

The young man walked in without a shred of hesitation. A thick smell climbed to just beneath Dan Chuyeon's nose — raw, ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and damp.

This was the reek of blood. Enough to fill the entire room and spill past it.

"Back up."

The floor split. The young man stopped dead, and his head tipped down a fraction. A deep gouge had opened in front of his feet.

"Who the hell are you. How did you get in here."

Wind rose. The ornaments dressing the room trembled where they hung.

The young man lifted his head. Beneath the brim of the cap, two eyes shone with a chill, and Dan Chuyeon gave a small start at irises as green as his own.

"Chuyeon."

Mi Soryeong caught his sleeve, anxious — the signal that she would handle this, and that he should fall back. Dan Chuyeon threw an arm out and put himself in front of her.

"Chuyeon..."

"Don't move."

He could not take his eyes off the young man. Look away for even a second, and it would be over. Out of sight, Mi Soryeong pressed the emergency bell. In a matter of minutes, a hero from the Hero Association would come.

"Who are you? This isn't a place you can walk into as you please. Leave. Now."

The young man's eyes turned to Mi Soryeong.

"...Mi Soryeong. That is you, isn't it."

The voice was young, and far too cold, as if he had soaked his throat in the dead of winter.

"...What gives you the right to throw my mom's name around."

"Chuyeon."

"Why wouldn't I. We're relatives."

"Relatives...?"

Mother and son both faltered at words that made no sense.

"That's right. Relatives."

The young man took off his cap. Vivid green hair spilled down like a waterfall, long enough to brush his shoulders. He swept it back. Had it not been for the voice, the face was one a person might have mistaken for a woman's.