I glared at the statue.
Bronze. Heroic. Shirtless for no discernible reason. Muscles chiseled by someone clearly paid by the bicep.
The plaque read:
"Captain Valor: He Died for Peace. And Branding."
His left hand was outstretched like he was either reaching for justice or trying to flag down a cab. I hated him on sight.
Mostly because I was about to draw a mustache on him and couldn't find a good angle.
"Alright," I muttered, pulling the stolen marker from my pocket. "Let's commit some light civil disobedience and hope the System gets off my exhaust pipe."
I uncapped the marker with a pop, reached up, and started sketching. Curly. Villainous. A true handlebar of crime.
[UI ALERT]
"Crime Detected: Graffiti (Statue-Based)."
Villainy Points: +0.01
Note: Style deduction applied. Too whimsical.
"Whimsical?" I snapped at the sky. "It's a classic villain 'stache!"
"You've committed a misdemeanor in cursive."
I moved on to devil horns. One was longer than the other. The statue looked like it had opinions about dubstep now.
Satisfied—no, wait, the opposite of satisfied—I turned to the real prize.
Across the square stood a glowing white donation kiosk labeled:
HEROES FOR PEACE™ – Every Coin Defends Freedom!
Next to it, an AI-voiced sign chirped: "Thank you for your micro-support!"
I narrowed my eyes.
I had 27 cents. Time to cause mild fiscal anarchy.
I sauntered up to the kiosk, looked around dramatically to ensure no one was watching (they weren't), and reached into the slot.
One coin fell in.
By accident.
The machine chirped, "Generosity is heroic!"
[UI UPDATE]
"Action Registered: Donated to Heroes for Peace."
Hero Reputation: +0.5
Villainy Rating: "Disappointing."
"I was stealing!" I hissed. "That was an unauthorized refund!"
"Intent unclear. Actions speak louder than crime thoughts."
Suggested Next Crime: Arson, or at least littering aggressively.
I kicked the base of the donation box.
It hummed. Cheerfully.
"Thank you for your civic engagement," said a voice like a kindergarten teacher with a taser.
I turned on my heel and walked back toward the statue.
The pigeons had returned. Dozens of them. Perched on Captain Valor's shoulders like they were forming a tactical unit.
I stared them down. "Don't you start."
One cooed. Judgingly.
I sat on a bench nearby and cracked open a new Cursed Citrus™. It hissed ominously, like carbonation and disappointment had a baby.
My knees ached. My spine creaked. My soul smelled like failure and lemon.
[SYSTEM NOTE]
"Reminder: You are a Major Villain. Current acts suggest 'Local Nuisance' at best."
Would you like to commit:
• A real crime
• A fashion crime
• Emotional manipulation
"Can I commit a murder on my own reputation?" I muttered.
Then the air shifted.
That telltale prickling on the back of the neck. A shadow stretched long across the pavement. I tensed.
Slowly, I turned.
And froze.
She stood at the edge of the square. Silhouetted by sunlight. Sparkles. Literally sparkles. Where was the glitter coming from?
Wide eyes. Too wide. Sketchbook clutched to her chest like a holy relic. Her mouth slightly open in awe, like she'd just spotted a celebrity—or a particularly majestic plumbing fixture.
She gasped.
"You…"
Zoom-in. Shōjo anime style. Heartbeat sfx. Lens flare. Pigeon lands on her shoulder for dramatic effect.
"You're the one---"
I blinked.
"…What."
---
Hana sprinted across the park like a missile powered by serotonin and unresolved trauma.
"OH MY GOD. I KNEW IT!"
I flinched. There's a specific tone people reserve for spotting their childhood idol at a convention. Or maybe a cult leader. That was the tone.
She barreled toward me. I took a cautious step back, halfway through deciding between "run" and "disappear via spite."
"It's you!" she shouted.
"Nope," I said instantly. "Wrong immortal metaphysical man."
Then she launched herself at me.
She was small. Like, legally classified as "pocket-sized." But she hit like divine retribution wrapped in a sundress. Her arms clamped around my ribs. My spine whimpered.
"I KNEW I wasn't hallucinating!" she gasped. "The shimmer! The chrome! The majestic, terrifying roar! You're the one! The Truck of Fate!"
"…I'm sorry, the what?"
"The truck that killed me!"
People turned. Pigeons scattered. My soul tried to crawl out of my own ears and flee the scene.
I pried her off me like a defective barnacle. "Okay, let's rewind. You're saying I—killed you—and you're excited?"
She beamed. Absolutely glowed. I swear the air around her sparkled like her sheer enthusiasm had a visual effect budget.
"Oh, totally! It was beautiful. I was chasing my cat—Mochi, you would've loved her, total menace—and then BAM. Headlights. Engine noise. A warm feeling. Woke up in a glowing field with a sword and like, six passive buffs."
She clasped her hands together. "Best day of my life."
"I yeeted this girl off the mortal coil like a foul ball in a minor league game and she's THANKING me?"
"Do you…" I gestured vaguely at everything, "do you need a therapist? Or possibly… several?"
"No, no, I'm totally fine now!" she said cheerfully. "I got isekai'd, trained as a Player, bonded with a divine familiar, and then the tutorial glitched and dropped me back here. You know, like a software hiccup. But I remember everything."
"Cool. Cool cool cool. And uh… what's a Player?"
"Oh!" She pulled out a badge. Holographic. Shiny. Slightly singed.
"Registered Hero-in-Training," she said proudly. "I'm in the Urban Anomaly Reconnaissance Program! Tier 1. But they say my Aura Compatibility is like, really promising. I might get promoted next semester if I survive more than three battles."
"That's… very specific." I started inching backward. "And you're sure I'm the truck?"
"Oh, not you," she giggled. "Him." She pointed to my face. "The truck. In my dreams. I sketch him all the time!"
She pulled out a scrapbook. No, really. A full, spiral-bound, glitter-stickered scrapbook. With a cover that said "Thank You, Truck-chan 💖" in pastel letters.
She flipped it open.
And I saw me.
Not me-me. Not this sad-skin human meat-suit I was wearing. But truck me.
Chrome. Graceful. Murderous.
There were drawings. Action shots. Soft watercolor portraits. A charcoal piece titled "Wheels of Mercy."
I stared at it in stunned horror.
She flipped to a new page. "I added flames to this one! Because you were glowing that day. Like an angel. But vehicular."
My voice came out hoarse. "I have never, in all of eternity, been more alarmed by a craft project."
She beamed. "You inspired me. You changed my life. You gave me purpose."
"I gave you blunt-force trauma."
She waved a hand like that was irrelevant. "Semantics."
And then—because clearly reality had stopped caring—she pulled out her phone.
"We have to take a picture together!" she gasped. "My friends will not believe this."
Before I could object, she leaned in and clicked.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
Photo Uploaded: "#FoundMyTruck 💖🚛💥"
Public Sentiment: "Truck of Destiny 🥺💖"
Villainy Points: –3
Hero Reputation: +15
UNAUTHORIZED BOND FORMING.
Suggested Countermeasure: Arson, or ghosting her emotionally.
I took a long, agonized sip of Cursed Citrus™. It fizzed like lemon-scented mockery.
She clutched the phone to her chest. "This is the best day of my life. Again!"
"Cool," I muttered. "I'm going to walk into traffic."
[Tooltip: Emotional attachment detected. Recommend emotional firewall and/or therapy.]
I glared at the UI.
"Don't start."
---
Two shadows fell across us.
Not menacing shadows. No, these were enthusiastic shadows. The kind of shadows that come with clipboards and student debt.
"Hey there, citizen!" chirped a voice like a motivational speaker trapped in a protein bar.
I turned. Two Hero Academy interns approached, all shiny uniforms and blinding optimism. One had a foam bat labeled Training Weapon: Please Don't Sue. The other was dual-wielding what looked like pepper spray and a sparkle wand.
Their eyes locked onto my UI.
"Villain energy signature confirmed," said Foam Bat Guy. "Primary directive: suppress with mild violence!"
"Permission to use my aura pose?" asked Sparkle Wand Girl, already assuming a power stance.
"Denied. You fractured your own ankle doing that last time."
They stepped closer.
Leo.exe was already shutting down.
"Oh, come on," I muttered. "I'm not even doing anything illegal! I'm loitering at best."
Their eyes narrowed. Foam Bat lowered his visor dramatically. "That's what villains want you to think."
I turned to Hana. "You see what I'm dealing with?"
Before I could blink, she shoved herself between me and the interns, arms flung out like a discount magical girl shield.
"Back off!" she shouted.
Sparkle Wand paused. "Uh. Excuse me?"
"You're misreading this situation!" Hana declared. "He's not a villain! He's my destiny guide!"
I gagged on my own breath. "I literally killed you."
She waved it off. "With purpose!"
She turned to the stunned interns. "This man changed my life. He yeeted me into greatness! You're just jealous!"
Foam Bat raised his clipboard like a shield. "Ma'am, please calm down."
Sparkle Wand whispered, "Do we log this as a hostage situation or… romantic delusion?"
Then Hana's hands began to glow.
Literal sparkles. Pink and gold. The air shimmered. Her support aura bloomed like she'd dipped her emotions in glitter and shot them into the sky.
She chanted something that sounded suspiciously like a Sailor Moon monologue.
"By the light of my unjust death and the power of divine tire marks, I shield this man!"
[System Tooltip: Buff Received – "Unwarranted Devotion"]
Status Effect: Immune to minor self-esteem loss for 30s
"Oh great," I muttered, "I'm being healed with the power of blind affection."
The interns flinched.
"Deploy suppressive maneuvers!" shouted Foam Bat.
They lunged.
I sidestepped. Mostly.
Foam Bat's momentum turned him into a human trebuchet, and he launched himself directly into the park fountain with a scream that sounded like "For extra credit!"
SPLASH.
Sparkle Wand tried to cast something. Hana's aura flared—like a heart-shaped EMP—and sent the intern tumbling into a pile of commemorative pigeons.
Feathers. Screaming. Possibly a kazoo noise.
I stood in the middle of it all, trying not to look like I was responsible.
Which, of course, I wasn't. Technically.
[SYSTEM UI UPDATE]
Villainy Points: –6
Heroic Action Detected: "Protecting Hopeful Idiot"
Fan Following: +300
New Label: "Mentor of Light 🥹✨"
Public Sentiment: "Tragic Teacher???"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I need to commit a war crime before breakfast."
Hana spun toward me, eyes sparkling like anime betrayal had never occurred to her.
"That was amazing! You saved me! Again!"
"No. I tripped near you. While experiencing internal despair."
She held up her phone. "The fan account just broke 10k followers."
My UI dinged.
You have unlocked the trait: "Involuntary Role Model."
Warning: Romantic subplot probability increased.
I looked straight ahead.
Into nothing.
Into everything.
Like I was on The Office and the camera just caught me realizing I'd become a walking Tumblr gifset.
"Let's fight fate together!" Hana declared.
I turned.
Walked.
Sipped my cursed soda.
Did not look back.
[New Objective: Undo Public Adoration Before It Gets You a Book Deal]
---
I tried to leave town.
I really did.
I packed nothing. Told no one. Walked fast. Wore a hat. A villainous hat. Black, tattered brim, borrowed from a discount cosplay bin behind a laundromat.
I even turned off the UI.
(It turned itself back on. Twice.)
[Reminder: You're contractually obligated to the plot.]
[Attempted Narrative Evasion: Pathetic]
I kept walking.
City lights blurred into noise. Neon signs blinked like exhausted prophecies. Somewhere in the distance, a hero billboard exploded in slow motion. Not my fault. Probably.
Then I heard it:
"Sensei! Wait up!"
I froze. The kind of freeze a man does when he realizes the plot has legs. And pigtails.
Hana bounced up beside me, all sparkles and certainty. She was carrying a duffel bag. It sparkled too. It had a patch.
The patch read: TEAM DESTINY
Underneath: 'Ran Into Fate. Decided To Carpool.'
"You're following me," I said flatly.
"Obviously!" she beamed. "You're on a mission."
I kept walking.
She walked with me.
"You don't even know where I'm going."
She pulled out a notebook. "I dreamed it. There was ramen. And tragedy. And a goat."
"That was indigestion."
"And a villainous voice said, 'Go with the truck man, he has Issues.'"
"That was indigestion with sound design."
[UI PING]
[Trait Acquired: "Reluctant Mentor"]
[Companion Bond Formed: Hana Minase]
[Subplot Unlocked – "Teach Her What You Never Learned"]
Status: Irrevocable. You fool.
I stopped at the first ramen cart I saw. It was next to a dumpster. The sign read: RAMEN'T – Regret-Free Since 2098.
I sat. Ordered something spicy enough to erase memory. Hana sat beside me, humming the theme song from a magical girl show about tax fraud.
We ate.
In silence.
Except for the slurping. I slurped like I wanted God to flinch.
Hana wiped her mouth and looked at me with stars in her eyes. Literal stars. Might be a mutation.
"So… where are we going next, Sensei?"
Beat.
I didn't even look at her. Just reached for my soda.
"We're going to commit a felony," I muttered.
She gasped in delight.
"Is it arson?!"
I sipped.
"Not yet."
[Cue music: "Found Family but Make it a Liability" – Lo-Fi Villaincore Remix]
[Background status: "Bond Strengthening. Please panic responsibly."]
The UI shimmered quietly in the corner of my vision. Like it was proud of me.
I hated it.
---
END OF CHAPTER 3