The Hero Couple of the Superhero Age
The city was at peace. People went about their day as they always did—office workers hurrying to and fro, cars streaming across black asphalt, patrons smiling over fragrant cups of coffee in sidewalk cafés. Everything was just as it always was.
Until the explosion.
BOOM!!
A sudden roar split the air, and a pillar of crimson flame punched into the sky. Those caught in the blast were flung upward and slammed back down onto the pavement. Others were swallowed by the fire, their bodies blackening as they burned.
Then, silence. A thick, stunned hush settled over the city, as if no one could quite force their minds to accept what their eyes had just seen.
"AAAAAHHHH!!!"
A woman's scream shattered the quiet, and in an instant the streets dissolved into pandemonium.
"Kyahaha! Kyahahaha! I'll burn it all!!"
At the heart of the chaos stood a man. An ability user. The white hospital gown hanging off his frame made it obvious enough—he had broken out of a psychiatric ward.
"Everything has to burn!!! That's purification!!! I'll make this world clean!!!"
His eyes were unfocused, his mouth pouring out words that made no sense to anyone but himself.
"I-it's a villain! Run!"
"AAAAH! Somebody help!!!"
People fled in blind terror. The man hurled fireballs after them, winding up with his whole body and pitching them like baseballs. Each blazing sphere traced a clean arc through the air. Given the destruction he had already shown, anyone hit by one of those would not simply be burned—they would be blown apart.
"Get down!!!"
That was when she appeared. A woman cut between the civilians and the oncoming fireball, her voice ringing out over the screams.
A mask hid her face, but anyone looking would have known at a glance that she was beautiful. Long black hair spilled down her back against skin as white as porcelain. Her eyes were large and round, the irises as dark and clear as her hair. Her breasts were lush and full, set above a waist so slender it looked almost fragile by comparison. She was short, even for a woman—and yet her proportions were so exquisite that her height never registered as small.
She was a hero. And she dressed the part: a white uniform cut so close it traced every line of her body, picked out with accents of red and blue, and a mask that wrapped over the bridge of her nose to conceal her identity. Petite, slight, and wrapped in white, she gave off an impression of something almost delicate. Could a woman who looked that fragile really take down villains and keep the public safe?
The people on the street knew better. The moment she appeared, they exhaled in relief. They knew exactly how terrifying the power inside that small body really was. As if to prove it, she flicked a fist at the fireball screaming toward her and swatted it out of the air like it was nothing.
"Guh! White Rabbit!!"
"It's not White Rabbit—it's White Fang!"
Her hero name was White Rabbit, and she was one of the vanishingly few S-class heroes in the world. The name she had originally chosen for herself was White Fang. The white uniform, the close-quarters fighting—she had wanted to be a white wolf. But that small, lovely face of hers had doomed the idea from the start. People did not see a wolf. They saw a rabbit. She still corrected them every time, insisting it was Fang, not Rabbit. By now, nobody listened.
"Get out of my way and don't interfere! White Rabbit!"
"No! It's White Fang, not White Rab— sigh. Fine. Whatever. Looks like you broke out of a psychiatric hospital. How about you go back quietly?"
"Sh-shut up! If I go back there, they'll just drug me and put me to sleep again!"
"Then maybe try behaving yourself?! They give you sedatives because you're always causing a scene!!"
White Rabbit's voice cracked across the street, and the man's face went rigid. Hero ranks ran by letter, starting at F-class and climbing through D-class, C-class, B-class, and A-class, with S-class standing alone at the very peak. Earning that rank was brutally difficult. Skill, results, public recognition—even a psychological evaluation. You had to pass all of it. Which meant the woman standing in front of him was, by every measure that existed, a perfect and overwhelmingly powerful hero.
He hesitated, turning it over, and then he ran. He knew perfectly well he could not win.
"I-I didn't break out just to get caught here!!"
He bellowed some wordless cry and hurled gouts of flame into the ground at his feet.
Fwoosh! Fwoosh!
The fire hit the asphalt and bloomed outward, swallowing the street in a curtain of heat and smoke.
"You're not getting away!!"
White Rabbit had no intention of letting him go. She kicked off the pavement, plunged straight through the wall of fire, and came out the other side flying at him.
"Stay back! G-get away from me!!"
He screamed at the white figure streaking toward him, tripped, and went down hard. Then her fist came around at his face.
CRASH!
The sound was enormous—far too enormous to have come from a fist that small.
"Hah— hah—"
The man gasped for air and turned his head. White Rabbit's fist was buried in the asphalt beside him, having missed his skull by inches. The pavement had shattered outward in a spiderweb of cracks, fragments still skittering across the street.
"W-whoa. That's an S-class hero for you."
"That's so fucking cool."
The man's eyes rolled back, and he went limp. White Rabbit handed him off to the police officers jogging up behind her, gave them a light little wave, and lifted into the sky.
"Man, I'd have no regrets left if I could date a woman like that. She's gorgeous, she's powerful—and White Rabbit is famous for being a sweetheart, too."
"I wouldn't stand a chance if I asked her out, would I?"
"You even have to ask?"
The men stood watching her vanish into the sky, muttering among themselves. At the confession remark, one of them gave his friend a look of pure pity.
"White Rabbit's a married woman."
White Rabbit. Real name: Choi Min-seo.
She was already someone else's wife.
News of White Rabbit taking down a villain poured from every channel without pause. A man sat on his sofa, watching every report.
The anchors offered a brief rundown of the villain Flint, then pivoted, as they always did, to White Rabbit's abilities, tossing the facts back and forth like a well-rehearsed comedy act.
"White Rabbit is a hero with no fewer than three superpowers—and every last one of them ranks at S-class."
"Physical enhancement, levitation, and ultra-regeneration."
"In her entire career, there is only one villain she has never captured: Doomsday."
"But isn't Doomsday considered more of an urban legend at this point?"
"That's right. However, once it came to light that Doomsday has been referenced in Hero Association records…"
"What must it feel like, living as a hero like that's husband? He's known to be a C-class non-combat hero."
Anonymity was one of the most important things a hero had. If a villain ever learned a hero's real name, would they leave that hero's family and friends alone? Of course not. The Hero Association hammered the point constantly, and no one—not the public, not even other heroes—knew the true identity of White Rabbit or anyone else who wore a mask. Her husband's identity was just as carefully buried.
"How do I feel? Like I'm dying, that's how."
The man on the sofa—Lee Jun—scowled at the screen as the anchor wondered aloud what it would be like to be White Rabbit's husband. Because that was exactly what he was: a C-class non-combat hero, and White Rabbit's husband.
He was less handsome than pretty. His blonde hair was cut in a neat bob that followed the line of his jaw, and his eyes were large and round and almost painfully cute. His skin was so fair and fine that, at a glance, he could easily have been taken for a woman. He was short and slight on top of it, which did not help.
His ability was hacking. When other heroes fought on the front line, he supported them from behind—a non-combat hero, through and through. At the moment, though, he was at home, nervously knocking back stamina tonics one after another.
He loved Choi Min-seo more than anything. If she asked for it, he would have cut out his own heart and placed it in her hands. And yet every time he watched her on the news, taking down villains in front of the whole country, a familiar dread coiled in his gut.
Was it because she had become so famous that some other hero might steal her away? Because he was afraid she would get hurt?
No. Not even close.
He knew she loved him. He did not doubt for a second that she would cut out her own heart for him, too. And it was not jealousy, either—not of her success. Every time she brought a villain in and the crowds roared her name, his shoulders started doing a little dance all on their own.
So why, then? Why did her victories make him so anxious?
"Honey! I'm home!"
The front door opened, and White Rabbit—Choi Min-seo—stepped inside. Her face, still framed by the white suit, was flushed a deep, telling red.
"Ah. Were you getting ready?"
"Hmm? Oh. Yeah."
She looked at the tonic in his hand, and her tongue flicked out to wet her lips.
"Sh-should we take a shower first?"
"Sorry. I can't wait."
She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him straight to the bedroom. Then she tore the white suit off her body as if she meant to rip it apart and climbed onto the bed.
Choi Min-seo naked was a sight that never stopped being beautiful. Skin as smooth as glazed porcelain. Breasts as soft as if they had been filled with air. Pink nipples standing tight on top of them. Lee Jun's cock stiffened at once, twitching hungrily against his stomach.
"Nnh. Nnnhhh. Juuun~"
She pounced on him in a voice so spoiled and sweet that no one who knew White Rabbit would have believed it. Korea's S-class hero, Choi Min-seo, had a constitution that sent her into heat every time she used her powers.
Three hours later.
"I-I can't… a-anymore…"
Lee Jun made a dying sound into the mattress. He had come so many times his balls were still twitching, and his cock hung limp and spent against his thigh. He looked ready to pass out. Choi Min-seo, on the other hand, only stared at him with open disappointment.
Physical enhancement and ultra-regeneration had given her a well of stamina that simply did not run dry. Lee Jun was a non-combat hero. His body had limits. He had trained for years specifically to keep up with her, and by now his endurance would not have shamed a professional athlete—but it was nowhere near enough to satisfy Choi Min-seo.
"Nnh. It's not enoughhh. Haaahn♡"
In the end she lay back on the bed alone and started touching herself. Lee Jun watched her and bit down on his lip. The woman he loved more than his own life, and he could not even satisfy her. The shame of it sat on his shoulders like a stone.
What do I do? There has to be something.
He picked up his phone and posted a question online.
Comments sprouted like weeds the instant he hit post.
Dozens of replies piled up. Not a single one was any help. Lee Jun was about to set the phone down when it chimed.
Ding!
One more comment. He lifted the screen and read it.
"…What a load of garbage."
Lee Jun shook his head and tossed the phone onto the sofa.
And that night, he dreamed of his beloved wife, Choi Min-seo, wrapped in another man's arms.
