I Want to Fuck Heroes (2)
"February, huh...."
I checked the date on my phone right after stepping out of that familiar conference room—the one they'd used for my interview because they didn't have anywhere else, but normally it served as their meeting space—and let out a deep, troubled sigh.
Roughly ten years and three months.
What should I even call it? Time warp? Past regression? Whatever the label, something weird, weird, extremely fucking weird had happened.
My ability wasn't anything time-related. I was just a healing-type transcendent—rare, sure, but that was it. By touching a spot and channeling mana this way or that, I could heal wounds in a puff of magic, trading a bit of fatigue for the fix. That was the extent of it.
So why the hell had this happened? I'd racked my brain over it a hundred times, but no answers came.
I'd even slapped my own cheeks, bitten chunks out of my flesh and healed them along the way, just to confirm this wasn't some dream at least.... Plus, I'd never heard of any hero with time-manipulation powers, especially not among them.
And just now.... Well, the hero who'd tracked me down to this hideout ten years and three months from now? As far as I knew, she was a mutation-type transcendent. Heroes who wielded weapons were usually evolution or mutation types anyway.
Even if not, she was famous enough that I'd recognized her on sight. Codename: Reaper. Mutation type. Snake base. A woman who looked gloomier—face, hairstyle, figure, the works—than any villain, despite being a hero. Yeah, I knew her well.
Anyway, a mutation-type transcendent like her had no way to send me back to the past. Even if she did, she had no reason to. For redemption? To tell me to live right from now on? As if.
In ten years, she'd sworn to beat me and fuck me over! There were ways to train for that, right? Something felt off.... Something, something....
"...Oh. It's raining."
Maybe because it was unseasonably mild for February, the rain fell in a fine, transparent drizzle, trickling down the stairs.
Underground hideouts had their issues. Sure, they hit that middle-school nostalgia hard, but if you didn't dig the drainage right, shit like this happened fast. I'd nearly slipped and busted my ass a few times, so ditching it now was a blessing.
I grabbed a pitch-black umbrella from the stand, popped it open, and stepped out without a backward glance. Tongue clicking, I sidestepped a rainbow-slicked oil puddle by the car when—
The phone rang.
"......"
'Namho hyungnim' flashed on the screen. Back then, I'd saved it like that because it felt romantic. Even though I'd barely seen his face once.
Oh. Not that gorilla guy's name. There was a slightly rougher-looking uncle type instead.
...Thinking back now, it was like a circus of faces at that company. Everyone but me.
"Hmmm...."
I considered ignoring it, but pulled out my earphones from my pocket instead. I wasn't keen on living tired as a powerless student just yet. Awakening trends and new ability concepts were at least five years out anyway.
Gripping the umbrella tighter, I tapped the green call button.
"...Hey, Woojin."
A gravelly voice came through the earphones, like he'd smoked three packs a day, every day for twenty-four hours. If he hadn't looked so damn rough, I'd have dragged him to karaoke once.
"Yeah."
"So, we said all that previous talk is off the table, right?"
"In summary, yeah."
I liked how fast he got to it. Giving a half-assed reply out of habit, I rummaged in my front pocket. But all I felt was dank air. Pants pocket, back pocket—nothing.
Where the hell was it? Staring blankly at my empty hand, I snapped out of it and scratched my nape.
Cigarettes. I didn't smoke back then.
"...Ah. Should I cut off a finger or something? That's what they do in movies."
"You planning to let it happen nice and easy? You're a healer."
"A pinky segment might pass as quirky fashion."
Worried about getting snatched mid-call, I hustled to the main road and ducked my face under the umbrella brim.
"Anyway, Woojin."
"Yeah. Go ahead. Listening."
"Us Koreans have that bond, right? How do you just ghost after a few visits?"
"......"
"I treated you so well those few days, huh? Makes me sad for real."
Looking back, I shouldn't have even visited. Maybe because I was a full-grown adult in a barely legal body—it thrilled me, honestly. A villain alliance committing all sorts of crimes in the city's shadows? Heart-pounding stuff.
I'd figured I'd snag some female hero, tie her up, and do whatever. Never dreamed they'd stick to murder, threats, terror—everything but rape—for a solid ten years....
"Healing types are damn near nonexistent—you know that. Most end up as sidekicks for big-shot heroes."
"Yeah. Explains the sweet terms."
I kept it positive, scared he'd chase me down with a steel pipe for badmouthing. The contract really did dwarf major corp starting salaries—'and such.' Sure, it was sketchy as hell with performance bonuses baked into the base pay, but.... In ten years, I'd never made less. If anything, more.
"Water at the 'company' not agree with you on visit day? Jonghyeok even showed you some fun stuff."
"Nah. Just... no big reason. Wanna live straight, so I'm out."
Jonghyeok. The gorilla. Fun? All I remembered was him boiling ramen once. Damn good ramen, but that was it.
"Last time you said it was cool being a secret org."
"Secret org won't look good on a resume."
"Worried about jobs? You were on TV as a kid."
"Who knows. Sudden power-up, could vanish just as quick."
Couldn't say it was 'cause I wanted to fuck a few idolized heroes behind their fans' backs and train 'em to my tastes.
I danced around it vaguely, and a slow exhale came through—sigh or smoke, hard to tell.
"...Fine. Fuck off then."
"Thanks."
"Ugh. Good luck job hunting."
Click. Call ended.
Yanking out the earphones, the lively patter of rain tickled my eardrums again.
"Hmmm...."
...But something.... How to put it.
Way smoother than expected? He let me go too easy?
He knew the hideout location—real deal, not a decoy. Shouldn't he at least gag me somehow? If it were me, I'd kill first. If not, instill some fear.
That's why I'd offered the finger-chop. He bonds hard with his 'crew,' but wasn't this nice to outsiders.
...Time to bolt. Didn't get it, but I'd spin it positive. Maybe he figured clean send-off beat no revenge.
Made sense—healing types were extremely rare. Extremely times ten wouldn't cut it. Hell, without my 'fuck heroes' kink, I'd have ignored villain trash like them.
Sending me off since I seemed stubborn, then circling back in days? Possible.
Okay. Next moves.
Figure why I regressed, search net for similar cases.... Check hospital in case it's psychosis....
Hmm. Heroes.... Hate to quit. No women matched my tastes like them.
What to do. Quit villains, but stick near heroes. Something that wafts innocent first-love vibes, but rough and sticky too.
Mulling it over while crossing the crosswalk—
Tire screech.
Kyaaak! A shrill scream pierced beside me. Rain splashed violently.
Screeech! The air-tearing brake made my shoulders twitch.
From the direction of that impossible sound. Having crossed several white lines already, I quietly glanced left.
And swallowed hard.
Crunch, crumple! A white sedan mangled every which way tumbled wildly across the road—
"...."
—brushing past me and sliding to a slick stop.
Culprit: a dump truck barreling through the downpour. Didn't know the tonnage, but it could've pulverized sedans easy.
Saw the plates. But so what.
Couldn't make out the driver's face. Umbrella blocked some view, but the truck windows were blacked out pitch.
Aha. Was the easy send-off a setup for this? Or sleepy driving? Weird. No way they confirmed my face in this rain from there.
Targeting me specifically? Doubtful.
Coincidence? Inevitable? This time, a hollow chuckle escaped first.
What kinda bullshit ending was this? Probably 'cause I'd tasted death minutes ago.
And that absurd regression? IF. If I hadn't gone villain? Showing a short 'what if' then killing me per fate?
...Whatever. Double-dosing medicine after the cure sucked twice as bad. Ribs cracking hurt less than that probably.
Fuck. How bad would it hurt? Instant death might be mercy.
Acting accepting, cool, no regrets—even as thoughts trailed, pathetic clinginess seeped in at the edges.
The chuckle faded. A heavy sigh took its place.
Then—
—Krrrng!
Someone dashed past me on the crosswalk as I stood resigned. Wind gusting late, I lost my umbrella and fell flat.
Asphalt vs. bone? Asphalt wins nine times outta ten. Coccyx screamed like it'd cracked gold.
Before I could heal my ass—
BOOM! A massive explosion rocked the road. Not like blowing up a car or anything.
Startled by the bizarre volume, I forgot tailbone pain and looked toward the truck.
"What, what? Did you get it?"
"Nah, how the fuck you film that? Can't hit record the second it happens. Guy crossing almost got smeared."
"Tire marks insane...."
Onlookers babbled. Drizzle soaked my umbrella-less hair.
Amid popping airbags psshh and blaring sirens wee-oo wee-oo—
"...Fucked...."
A girl's small mutter slipped through the rain. Pretty calm tone for one.
"Truck's big, so... gotta be pricey, right...."
Pricey, yeah, but not that much. That white import that rolled probably cost more.
"Still, good deed done. Whew.... Hero grant come through...? Gotta sort weekend gig first...."
Not using something external—stepped on bumper barehanded and halted it, so not summon type. No flashy aerial spells, not magic. No wings, tail, horns— not mutation. Left: evolution type, super strength sans visible changes.
Foot off bumper, splashing puddle rippled.
"Ah, shit, ankle.... Need a hospital too...."
Sloppily grown black ponytail swung wet. Star-shaped ear piercing suggested she liked dolling up. Mint tee opaque even soaked, uniform jacket knotted at waist....
Student from Miren Academy, ten blocks off.
"...Ahem, uh, y-you okay? Truck guy? Still alive?"
"......"
"Y-you gotta take responsibility...."
Trainee hero.
An injured one at that.
"......"
A great idea hit me.