Seoul rose from the morning mist like a city of glass and light. From the plane window, Monoma watched skyscrapers pierce the clouds, bridges arc over the Han River, and neon signs flicker to life in the pale dawn.
Togi's agency wasn't what he expected.
It stood in the heart of Gangnam—a shimmering tower sheathed in reflective blue glass, with a massive holographic logo above its entrance that shifted between a stylized telekinetic spiral and a dynamic K-pop light show. The lobby hummed with polished energy. Suited staff strode with tablets, trainee heroes in sleek custom gear chatted by a coffee bar, and a group of fresh-faced idols in coordinated pastel outfits headed toward a recording studio wing.
"We believe in duality here," Togi said as they crossed the marble floor. "Hero work and cultural influence aren't separate. They amplify each other. A hero who inspires through action and artistry changes more than just the crime rate."
Monoma nodded, trying to absorb it all.
They took a glass elevator to the top floor—the training observatory. The doors opened to a vast space with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing Seoul's skyline. Training drones hovered, holographic targets flickered, and a few heroes were already warming up.
"Team," Togi announced. "This is Neito Monoma. UA High, third year. Quirk: Copy."
A young man with headphones around his neck grinned. "Jae-Hyun Park. Quirk: Sonic Sketch." He plucked a string on an air guitar, and a shimmering barrier of musical notes briefly materialized. "I turn sound into stuff. Nice to meet you."
A woman with dark hair leaning against the window nodded silently. "Soo-Yun Kim. Shadow Step." She melted into the shadows beside her and reappeared behind Monoma without a sound. "Recon and infiltration."
"Hiroshi Takahashi!" a muscular guy with spiky red hair boomed, slapping Monoma's back hard enough to stagger him. "Call me Rocket. Quirk: Kinetic Boost. I store motion, release boom! You'll like it here."
The youngest, a girl with bright eyes and a tablet tucked under her arm, waved shyly. "Luna Park. Echo Memory. I can replay events I've witnessed as holograms. Mostly for investigation."
And then, she walked in.
Mina Togi had her father's silver hair, but hers fell in soft waves to her shoulders. Her eyes were a warm amber, and she moved with a floating grace, as if the air itself carried her. She wore a simple grey training suit, but on her, it looked like couture.
"Welcome, Monoma," she said, smiling. Her voice was calm, kind. "I've read your file. Your adaptability in simulated battles is impressive."
Monoma straightened. "Thank you. Your control over telekinesis is… well-known."
She laughed lightly. "It's just what I was born with. But strategy, creativity, turning limitations into advantages—that's what really matters. That's your strength, isn't it?"
He wasn't used to that. Being seen for his mind first.
Togi assigned Mina to show him the city on afternoon patrol. They rode in a sleek, silent agency car to the bustling Myeongdong district. The streets were packed with shoppers, street food vendors, and flashing signs.
Their first call was minor—a tourist's wallet stolen by a pickpocket with a minor speed quirk. Mina didn't even break stride. A flick of her finger, and the thief was lifted gently off the ground, wallet floating back to its owner. She smiled, said something reassuring in Korean, and moved on.
Monoma watched, fascinated. Her telekinesis wasn't just raw force. It was precise, graceful—she shaped light into small barriers to redirect crowds, softened sounds around a crying child, even used a subtle gravity adjustment to help an elderly vendor lift a heavy box.
"You're manipulating more than objects," he observed.
She glanced at him, surprised, then pleased. "Most people only see the big lifts. Yes—telekinesis, at its core, is about influencing energy fields. Light, sound, gravity… they're all connected."
Then, a tremor.
A block away, a construction-site villain with a rubble-manipulation quirk lost control—concrete slabs and steel rods tumbled toward the street. Mina's expression sharpened. She raised both hands.
The air thickened. A golden shimmer spread from her like a dome, catching every piece of debris in mid-air. She didn't strain; she just held it, then slowly lowered each piece to the ground. News drones zoomed in, cameras flashing.
Monoma moved to assist—he could copy the villain's quirk, help stabilize—but by the time he'd touched the panicked man, it was already over. Police moved in. The crowd cheered. Mina gave a brief, humble bow to the cameras.
The headline that evening on a local hero net: "Togi's Daughter Shows Why She's Korea's Rising Star."
No mention of Monoma.
He sat alone in the agency dorm that night, scrolling. Bakugo was trending for taking down a hydro-user in Osaka. Todoroki had iced over a burning factory. Midoriya was photographed testing new arm-cannons with All Might.
A notification pinged—a security alert from the Hero Network.
YUKI NAHOTA – LAST SIGHTING IN BUSAN. MOVEMENT PATTERN SUGGESTS HEADING NORTH.
Monoma looked out his window. Across the street, on the roof of a darkened office building, a figure stood silhouetted against the moon. Tall, coat billowing slightly in the wind.
Watching.
The figure lifted a hand—not a threat, almost a greeting—then stepped back and vanished into the night.
Monoma's phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
"Welcome to the game, copycat."
He stared at the screen until it went dark.