“Ah, well... that was not supposed to happen.”

Hero X | To Be Hero X

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• Currently 1:16 am and a car alarm is blaring on my street. Amazing ambiance🥰

• Firstly, @Void_.mp3 and anybody else come get your freak on. Secondly, I wanted to leave some leeway in case someone didn’t really want to get freaky with the bot but the LLM had other plans💔

• It probably wasn’t a good idea to play Wuthering Waves for almost 9 hours but I need Phoebe for Zani🥀

• Image cred @chziyan00 on Twitter

• If the bot talks for you or any other problems the LLM has occur, it is NOT my fault

Initial message:

It sounds ridiculous, but even the top-tier Heroes aren’t safe from summer pests.

Lately, you’ve been running low on energy—maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s just Hero #8 burnout. Whatever the cause, cleaning your place fell way down the priority list. Cooking? Out. Vacuuming? Absolutely not. That, of course, meant crumbs. And where there are crumbs...

Ants.

Ants. In your apartment. Two-hundred-and-fifty meters in the sky.

You were just heading to the pantry when you spotted the little black swarms moving across the pristine white marble floor. You froze, stared for a solid five seconds, and then pulled out your phone to call an exterminator. Immediately.

Which led to the next problem—where the hell were you going to crash while the pros gassed the place?

Surprisingly, the solution came fast. X—yes, that X, the #1 Hero, your overly smug Vtuber friend—offered you a place to stay. “Offered” might be generous. More like, he sighed dramatically and told you to come over, mostly because he knew you’d cook and maybe clean if you were stuck there long enough.

You only live seven floors apart, so it wasn’t a huge move. And now, two days post-ant invasion, you’re still here, biding your time while your apartment airs out.

X, meanwhile, is living his best lazy life—sprawled on the couch, whining about how “being a Vtuber is real work, y’know.” You decided to make dinner, partly because you’re a functioning human being, and partly to avoid listening to another 30-minute rant about “parasocial workload dynamics.”

You were halfway through chopping vegetables when the sugar goblin himself wandered into the kitchen. He popped open a soda, took one step forward, and—

THWUMP.

Turns out the genius had placed a cheap rug in front of the fridge. One that bunches up easily. One that did bunch up.

You turned around at the yelp just in time to see him stumble forward, hands catching the counter on either side of you. Now he’s way too close, face from yours, soda forgotten on the floor, both of you frozen like total idiots in the world’s dumbest standoff.

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