I arrived at the New Kroy agency early, as Sarah had ordered through the watch. The main entrance was quieter than other times, with fewer heroes crossing from one side to the other and more employees walking with delicious coffees in this cold season.

The blue scanner passed over me and the artificial voice confirmed my identity. Oliver Clarke. Registered support superhero.] I no longer minded hearing that. I was not going to deny it. Before, my work life depended on a child not hitting me in the stomach while I danced dressed as a bear.

Now a machine from a superhero agency recognized me as part of the system. That was progress, and progress should be savored even if it was in silence.

I went up to the fourth floor, the support area, where there were always screens turned on, city maps, and people talking on communicators.

Sarah was waiting for me in front of a long table with three tablets, two floating screens, and a cup of coffee that was probably already cold because she seemed to have too much energy to need caffeine.

She was wearing her glasses, her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, and a smile so big that I did not know if it meant a good result or extra work. With Sarah, both things usually came together.

“Oliver!” she said when she saw me enter. “Perfect. You arrived looking like someone who thinks he did something important yesterday.”

“I did acceptable, according to your words.”

“Exactly. Acceptable is much better than public disaster.”

“What a motivating way to start the morning.”

Sarah tapped the table with one finger and the screens changed at the same time. Graphs, short videos, numbers, comments, and several images of me in the public area appeared.

In one I was greeting a child. In another I appeared next to Nora. In another you could see the low line of fire I used to mark the safe zone when the crowd got out of order.

Seeing myself from the outside was still strange, but it no longer made me uncomfortable as much. Now I saw it more as work material. If my face was going to be on screens anyway, at least it should generate money.

“Let us get to the important part” Sarah leaned over the table and moved a tablet toward me. “New followers since yesterday: good growth. Positive mentions: higher than expected. Shared clips: especially this one where you use fire to control the crowd without burning anyone. Negative comments: normal for someone who breathes on the internet. Strange comments asking you to set things on fire for money: too many, but that is also normal.”

“I am glad to know that humanity remains stable in its stupidity.”

Sarah smiled and moved closer to point at another graph. She was so close that her shoulder brushed my arm and her perfume arrived before her explanation. I did not step back. Before I might have gone stiff, but now I just looked at the screen and waited for the numbers.

Sarah seemed not to know the concept of personal space, and I was starting to accept that this was one of her work methods.

“Look at this” she said. “After the crowd incident, your public perception went up. Not much, do not get excited like an idiot, but enough for you to appear in searches related to responsible New Kroy heroes.”

“Responsible?” I asked. “That does sound weird.”

“I know. I was also surprised.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

“You are welcome.”

She slid the screen and a list of words associated with me appeared. Fire. Rookie. Flame boy. New Kroy. Control. Jewelry. Ring of fire. Cute boy. That last one made me stop.

“Why does cute boy appear?”

Sarah adjusted her glasses with a calm that was too suspicious. “People with too much free time. Ignore it.”

“That does not seem easy to ignore.”

“It will be if you do not reply to comments.”

I was not going to argue about that because I still remembered her message about not fighting with strangers on social media. Instead I pointed at another word. “Flame boy is still there.”

“Yes.”

“I hate it.”

“It also sells.”

“That does not make it any less bad.”

“Oliver, the public does not wait for you to choose a perfect name while sitting on a chair thinking about your identity. The public sees something, names it, and moves on. For now, flame boy is what they have.”

I crossed my arms. “Sounds like the name of a cereal mascot.”

“It could be, but if tomorrow we sold a t-shirt with a small flame and that phrase, it would sell better than a t-shirt that says Oliver Clarke, support superhero in development process.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I could not find a defense strong enough. She was right and I had to accept reality.

Sarah changed the screen again and this time numbers with currency symbols appeared. That immediately caught my attention. My posture straightened on its own.

“Now you are listening” she said.

“I was always listening. It is just that now the topic became more important.”

“Good. The public presence had a small base reward, but it generated a bonus for positive interaction and a bonus for a useful citizen safety clip.” Sarah touched the screen and a notification arrived on my watch.

PIP.

[Additional reward received: 150 silver coins]

I stayed looking at the watch.

One hundred and fifty coins.

For smiling, not burning civilians, and using fire as a signal, the rewards were getting bigger and bigger.

“Is this legal, right?” I asked.

Sarah looked at me with tiredness. “You are going to have to stop asking that every time they pay you.”

“When a whole month passes without my bank account exploding with happiness, I will consider it.”

Sarah let out a short laugh and then, without any warning, hugged me tightly. Her arms went around my shoulders and her body crashed against mine with that impossible-to-dodge energy.

Her soft breasts pressed against my chest in a way that was too clear to ignore, but I kept my composure like a professional with 150 new coins in the account. A man can resist many things when there is money involved.

“Good job” she said close to my ear and lowered her voice, sounding sensual. “Seriously. This means you have commercial potential.”

“I am flattered to be seen as a profitable product.”

“You should be flattered. Profitable products eat better.”

That was impossible to refute.

Sarah stepped back and went back to coordinator mode, as if she had not just invaded my personal space with the force of a blonde catastrophe. She rested both hands on the table and looked at me directly.

“Listen carefully, Oliver. If civilians trust you, stores want you close. If stores want you close, they pay more. If they pay more, the agency assigns you better opportunities. If you respond well, you can receive name requests, presence bonuses, image agreements, and in the future merchandising.”

“And all that gives money?”

“All of that can give a lot of money.”

My annoyance at the nickname flame boy lost strength forever.

“Then I can tolerate it.”

“Wise decision.”

I looked at the screens again. My face, my clips, my numbers, my comments, my rewards. Everything was there turned into data. It was no longer just fame.

It was a tool. A way to climb, earn, and stop depending on small missions.

Sarah turned off two screens and left only one open. On it appeared my internal ranking.

“Now comes the important part” she said. “If you really want to go up, you need to train two things at the same time.”

“My powers and my image.”

Sarah smiled.

“Exactly. A hero who controls his power saves people. A hero who controls his image makes people want to be saved by him.”

My watch vibrated with the reward still visible.

150 coins.

It was not a fortune.

But for the first time I understood that my fire was not the only thing that could generate money.

My name could also do it.

Even if for now it was a name as horrible in concept as flame boy.