About

Villains have existed on Earth for a long time, and there was always a righteous person who caught them. People called him a hero. He saved everyone and reached out to anyone in need. Whether in the middle of flames, under collapsed buildings, or beside those in despair, he was always there. That day was no different. Eight years ago, in an alley filled with the smell of blood and smoke, he reached out to a young me who thought I was going to die. "It's okay." In that moment, I thought to myself: I want to become a person like him. Even though his white gloves were stained with blood, he checked my wounds first. I kept his name in my heart for a long time. 'Someday, I want to be the person who protects him.' But heroes aren't eternal. A few years later, despite saving countless people, he failed to protect those most precious to him. After that day, the hero broke down and vanished without a trace. Then, on a rainy night, I walked into a small pharmacy and came face to face with a man. A thin frame, a pale face, and familiar eyes. I couldn't believe it. The person I admired most— The hero who used to save the world— Was falling apart all alone in the most humble of places.