episode_0001

On a warm spring day.

Starting with news of wildfires, reports of harmful substances detected in some company’s food products, and warnings about high chances of rain by lunchtime—urging everyone to carry an umbrella.

The news anchor on TV, who had been spouting trivial breaking news, suddenly fell silent.

A broadcasting mishap, perhaps?

The man lying on the couch, lazily scratching his stomach, yawned as he watched.

This didn’t seem ordinary—now even the sound had cut out completely.

“…….”

The anchor on screen briefly glanced away from the camera, whispering to someone off-screen.

Ah. Now that he looked closely, the edge of a beige hoodie was just barely visible.

Given the slight paunch peeking out, it was probably a crew member. They seemed to be discussing something.

Must be important—now they were handing her a sheet of paper.

The anchor stood there, flipping through the pages before tilting her head in confusion.

Maybe because she was pretty, even that simple gesture looked cute.

After nearly a minute of hushed conversation, she neatly straightened the freshly printed A4 papers and delivered the next report.

“…Uh, well.”

Now she was stumbling over her words.

Hmm. He’d seen clips like this online before.

Anchors fumbling on air.

Last time, one had been so embarrassed she nearly cried. Wonder if that’d pop up if he searched for it.

The man stretched his arm out, grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

And then—

He was met with an internet browser flooded with a single breaking news headline.

“B-breaking news. A baby… breathing fire…? Has appeared in Canada…”

What the hell is this nonsense?

He blinked hard.

—

1.

Honestly.

Living like this, he’d thought he’d at least get to fck a few heroes along the way.

“Ugh…”

Because that’s the image of a villain, right?

A vicious criminal.

A terrorist.

Some unhinged psycho.

An orphan with a tragic backstory.

A piece of trash rotting society from within.

Even after all the insults, as a kid, they still seemed kinda cool.

And what about heroes?

Mascots.

Idols.

Elites.

Judges who eradicate evil.

And those who sacrifice themselves for others…

Total idiots.

He’d thought that after being a villain long enough, he’d eventually get to use a few of those heroes like tissues.

TV.

Smartphones.

YouTube.

Countless eyewitness accounts.

Verified photos posted in forums.

Among them, the heroes who shone brightly as beacons of hope—

He’d imagined dragging one of them, unnoticed by their cheering fans, into his filthy, cramped room reeking of villainy.

Onto a bed dirtied by used condoms, even more cramped than the room itself.

Forcing the resisting hero down, watching them pant as he pounded into them.

By his early twenties, he’d lived happily as a villain, fueled by such hopeful fantasies.

Back then, he was just a freshly legal teenager with a grown man’s body.

…Looking back now, that was the age where lust took priority over everything else.

“…Ugh…”

Had he lost too much blood?

Clutching his right side, slashed open by a scythe, I let out an ugly groan as I slumped against the wall.

The searing pain, like being burned, was slowly fading.

At the same time, my head grew foggy, my vision blurring.

At seven, when I first got my ability, I never thought I’d die like some petty criminal.

Holding my torn side with a trembling arm, I tried to steady my breathing.

But it wasn’t working.

This was probably the first time I’d been hurt this badly.

I’d worked out religiously every day—were all those muscles just for show?

“Damn… bitch…”

If I’d been a combat-type Transcendent, I could’ve at least struggled.

If I’d known I’d be taken down this easily, I should’ve spat in that pretty face before dying.

Instead of fcking a hero, I’d die without even getting to curse properly.

“Ghk…”

Unfortunately, I couldn’t breathe fire.

I couldn’t summon giant ice spears to impale buildings like famous heroes.

I couldn’t call forth spirits to avenge me.

I didn’t have the power to end everything with a single sword like the Named in our organization.

I only had one ability.

The power to rapidly heal wounds by touching them…

“Fck…”

And now, even that wasn’t working.

Forget the shattered ribs needing surgery—

The pain from my pierced organs made it impossible to focus on using my ability.

Now I finally understood what agonizing to death really meant.

Should’ve healed those kids faster when they got hurt outside.

Regret washed over me too late.

“Hah… hah…”

Is this how doctors feel when they can’t heal themselves?

It’s so fcking miserable I can’t even laugh.

“Life…”

…If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve ignored that rude bitch when she randomly texted me to drink.

Then, even if I couldn’t fck a famous hero, I could’ve at least fcked a famous villain until the sheets were soaked before dying.

Sure, I’d brought home a few no-name villains…

But they were just practice.

After just one night, they’d call me Master and submit without resistance—boring, brainless sluts.

A hero would’ve resisted to the end.

This violence… it doesn’t feel good at all.

Stop while I’m asking nicely.

Once this is over, I’ll kill you.

Yeah. That’s what makes breaking them fun.

“…Pfft…”

What’s the point now?

Exhaling deeply, I slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor.

The thick blood soaking my body felt like chocolate diluted with water.

The warmth had faded, leaving it cold and sticky before drying stiff.

I closed my eyes.

Even keeping them open was exhausting now.

Old men say they’d still have sex as long as they could lift a spoon.

Total bullshit.

Is this what it’s like when death is near?

Regrets surfaced one by one.

The sex tapes I’d recorded for blackmail, now useless.

The countless extra-large condoms I’d stocked, checking expiration dates so I’d always be ready.

And the notes I’d kept on every hero’s weaknesses and how to exploit them.

…Huh. Seems like everything’s related to sex.

“…….”

Should’ve lived a little nicer.

Without any heroic last words, I lay in a pool of my own blood, breathing raggedly—just another dime-a-dozen villain.

My breaths grew shallower.

Like someone was pressing down on my sternum. Slowly. Slowly.

As I was about to lose consciousness—

The bitter scent of coffee hit me, and I blinked my eyes open again.

“You don’t need to read it too carefully. Healing-type Transcendents are rare—we’ll give you top-tier treatment.”

“…Huh?”

“Actually, scratch that. We shouldn’t even need this scrap of paper to talk.”

Clap. A loud, deliberate sound, as if to say, Look here.

Then, a massive, muscular right hand stretched toward me.

Under the rolled-up sleeve was an arm covered in thick fur.

So, like…

A gorilla?

A mutation-type ability.

“Looking forward to working with you, Woojin.”

“…….”

The scene felt unfamiliar yet quickly familiar.

The vanity-filled interior, thanks to solid backing.

A secondhand couch so worn it looked like it’d leak grease.

…That coffee machine the rude bitch loved so much.

(I only drank instant, so I never used it.)

And.

This furry arm in front of me.

This face grinning obnoxiously.

I knew them all too well.

“…What’s wrong? Woojin. Still hungover after days? Why’re you spacing out?”

Ten years ago.

The day I’d just turned legal and gotten blackout drunk, this guy had dragged me into a back alley and made a “scouting offer.”

I’ve been watching you, a healing-type Transcendent, for days.

Creepy stalker talk.

Of course, since my dream was to be a villain anyway, I got street-cast without much resistance.

But that wasn’t the point right now.

Why was this memory replaying before my eyes?

“…….”

After calmly assessing the situation, I reached a conclusion.

This seemed like… the past.

Sounded insane, but the scene in front of me said otherwise.

Ah, right. The life flashback.

Maybe this was it.

But it felt way too slow for something that was supposed to pass in an instant.

What the hell was this?

Had I lost my mind?

A dream, maybe?

Staring at the furry hand extended toward me—

—Slap!

“Wha…”

I smacked my own cheek so hard my neck cracked.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

I kept hitting until the confusion cleared.

Then the other side.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Blood and spit splattered onto the table.

Hard.

“…Hm.”

Weird.

Even after all that, the scene didn’t change.

Swallowing the blood in my mouth, I numbly stared at the still-clenched furry hand.

It hurt.

Enough to confirm this was reality.

I’d only hit my cheek, but my nose stung too.

Maybe a nosebleed?

Wiping my nose with a finger, I placed a hand on my face and used my healing ability to soothe the heat.

…It worked.

Just like in the reality I knew.

Still confused, I sat dazed until blood suddenly trickled from my nose onto my lips.

No need to check if it tasted like blood—my cheek was busted inside from the slaps, so I’d already swallowed plenty.

Nose blood was dirtier anyway.

So.

Had I really returned to the past with my memories?

Or had I gone insane, believing I’d gone back?

Blinking for a while, I grabbed a tissue from the box and wiped my nose.

The latter would be too depressing, right?

So I’d force myself to believe the former.

That living as a villain would get me killed by a hero raiding my hideout in ten years.

That after dying—or so I thought—I’d somehow returned to the past.

That the contract in front of me, deciding my future, was real.

All of it, undeniable reality.

“Phew…”

Red-stained tissues piled up in the trash bin over discarded rice crust candy wrappers.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”

“…….”

“Woojin?”

“…….”

…Ah, right. This guy in front of me is one of the combatants.

The ones who clash with heroes most often.

The ones with the easiest access to defeated heroes.

And according to what I’d heard two months ago at a drinking party, just the two of us—

He was still a virgin.

“Uh, you’re scaring me. Say something…”

“Sorry.”

So.

Staring at the contract (decent terms, just missing the four major insurances), I—

“For what?”

“Just… suddenly felt like living properly.”

“What?”

“So I slapped myself to snap out of it.”

Seizing this chance—

“Huh?”

“I’d like to cancel this contract.”

“Can—what?”

“Goodbye.”

I quit.

Being a villain.

Even if I could avoid dying in ten years somehow—

This job…

A shtty job where I couldn’t even properly fck a hero.