China, Beijing. 2026, 20:39 PM.
The sound of tires slicing through puddles, heavy rain pours over a sleek black car. The vehicle moves with incredible speed, like a bullet locked onto its target.
Eventually, a conversation is heard from inside.
"What did he say?" A woman with pink hair asks the orange-haired man with a wolf cut inside the car. "Seems like he's angry," the man replies, his tone drifting.
Before putting his phone away, he glances at his own reflection in the dark screen. "All good..." he whispers, slipping the phone into his pocket.
The man speaks again, "Nanao, how's my little brother doing at school?" He leans back into the seat.
(Nanao, 5th Hero)
"After what happened back then, he's been sulking non-stop, drowning in guilt." Nanao shifts to look out the dark window. "Shoryu... never expected that kid who was always friendly and cheerful... could get that angry."
The man rests his arm on his chin, legs spread slightly. "That blue-haired kid... I don't get why he exists." His voice drops a little. "It's like his very presence isn't even there..." His brow hardens.
Nanao brushes it off. "That's just your stupid gut feeling, Swan."
(Swan, 4th Hero)
Silence now fills the air-conditioned vehicle as it speeds down the highway toward a mysterious junction.
Soon, the car veers left, onto a dark service road littered with construction materials everywhere.
A road no ordinary person should take — especially on a night being lashed by relentless rain.
. . .
When they arrive, a massive mansion stands bright amidst the glittering night. Every structure carries the architectural essence of Imperial China from ancient times, yet kissed with touches of modern design.
Nanao remarks, "Wow, definitely old money." She opens the car door, letting her body get drenched by the rain.
Swan grins, stepping out slowly. "Of course, he's someone who knows the world's hidden history..." He then calls out to the driver. "Sir, you can head inside in a bit."
The driver nods warmly. "Ah, yes, you go ahead, sir... My pleasure." He then lights a match and ignites a cigarette.
. . .
As they step up to the large brown entrance door of the mansion.
They remove their special hero jackets, soaked through by the rain.
Oversized jackets with stiff, high collars. Lined with hints of yellow, blue, and pink.
As they hang the jackets on the tall, towering white pillar nearby, the black and white color scheme embodies the jacket's resilient meaning.
A strong wind blows, knocking Nanao's jacket off the pillar.
She picks it up. Visible now, the sharp, bright 'S' logo glows faintly in the night.
Swan opens his mouth, trying to speak while shaking out his jacket. "Seriously, what have we all been chasing all this time, damn it." He looks annoyed, staring at his still-wet jacket.
Nanao lets out a slow breath before whispering to Swan. "Who even knows any of this? We were born into a world that shouldn't exist." Nanao mutters.
Swan puts his jacket back on. "So, the powers in this world weren't supposed to exi—" But someone opens the large mansion door.
A blast of warm, radiant light spills out. "Are you Mr. Swan and Miss—" Nanao cuts in, waving a hand. "Ah, no 'Miss,' I'm still around 18, sir..."
The male servant smiles. "Very well, then please wait a moment. I'll inform Mr. Wang Wei." The door closes shut again.
Swan mumbles, surprised. "Wait, you speak Chinese?!" He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.
Nanao answers with a slightly higher pitch. "Goodness... Haven't you bought the all-purpose lens yet?" She grins at Swan.
Swan goes quiet, confused, leaning his body against the white wall. "What other gadgets have they made, damn it." He closes his eyes, crossing his arms.
Nanao peeks through a slightly high window, partially blocked by the mansion's elegant curtains. "Anyway, you can use it as you command." She takes a step back.
"In the system I bought, this lens is already synced to Japan's server. If it hears any language other than Japanese..." She steps closer to Swan.
"The lens will translate it live, right on display." Her face moves close to Swan's, her tone a little teasing.
Soon, the door opens again. "Apologies for the wait, please come in." A beautiful woman, wearing white sleepwear that reveals her slim, sexy figure, appears.
Swan stares. Nanao, noticing, pinches Swan's side hard while smiling at the woman. "Ah, yes, thank you, ma'am, we're here..." The pinching intensifies as she keeps smiling.
Swan, trying to hold in the pain with a strained grin, though his face wants to scream. "We... are here..."
. . .
As they are invited inside, the opulence makes them shiver. Numerous classic Chinese literary statues are displayed prominently in the vast living room.
Step by step, they are led toward what feels like eternal wealth. The design is immaculate, structured with paintings of historical figures like:
Sun Tzu, Guan Yu, Laozi, and others. All lined up neatly and consistently.
As they climb the winding staircase, their feet sinking into the expensive red silk carpet.
Their final step lands on the top floor, and the woman guides them toward Mr. Wang Wei's private chamber.
From above, they can see everything.
. . .
The woman stops at the end of the hallway, a horse statue beside her. She holds the door handle. "Alright, my husband is inside. Please try not to speak too much; he's drunk right now."
Then, as the wife slowly opens the door— "Oh my god... What is all this?!" Nanao gapes, her mouth wide open. Swan's body trembles.
His wife giggles, covering her laugh with her arm. "Hehe... This is the library passed down in his family for centuries... They are remarkable people in history."
"Go on in... Enjoy yourselves." Swan and Nanao step inside, and the door closes behind them.
Immediately visible: an enormous library surrounding them like a basketball stadium. Every corner, every nook is filled with books neatly arranged, organized by color.
They walk down a few steps, allowing them a better view of the lower level.
"This is absolutely insane... Like a prehistoric library." Swan exclaims, his eyes unable to stop scanning everything.
Until finally, they spot a man, about 35 years old, with neatly combed white hair.
A sharp jawline, a neck that would make women want to— well.
And the man is sitting at a desk, writing something.
Nanao whispers softly, nudging Swan's waist. "Is that him?" Swan immediately walks, ascending a few more steps. "Follow me." Nanao nods and follows.
The closer they climb, the clearer the man becomes. Their final step leaves them standing a meter away from the writing man.
Swan asks, "Sir, are you truly Mr. Wang Wei?" His gaze holds a hint of wariness.
The man answers without looking up, his hand still writing. "No, I am merely his past." The man says, his voice heavy, resonant, and firm.
Shortly after, the man vanishes from the desk like fireflies scattering into the night.
Swan and Nanao are stunned, eyes wide. Yet in their minds, they hold onto a sense of awe.
Until finally, someone with the same voice calls to them from behind. "I am here... What are you looking for?" Swan and Nanao freeze.
The man asks again. "Are you people who bring peace?"
"Or are you mere gatherers of firewood?"
. . .
End.