(Wednesday, April 3 – 6:11 a.m.)
The pavement was cold and the shadows still long. Namsoo went out for his usual jog, counting his steps, breathing through his nose to conserve energy. His body, though still weak, responded better than in previous days.
He stopped at the same park. Dropped to the ground and began his push-ups. The first set was twelve. Painful, but no longer unbearable. Endurance was starting to settle in. It wasn't transformation. It was accumulation. Each repetition was another stone in the wall.
(Time: 7:20 a.m. – Home)
Quick shower. Uniform on. Backpack over his shoulder. His mother no longer asked why he trained. She simply looked at him with a mix of intrigue and curiosity.
(J High School – Time: 8:05 a.m.)
The atmosphere in the classroom was quieter than usual. Glances slid around with less energy, but nothing seemed abnormal… yet. Namsoo sat calmly.
The real show began at lunch.
(Time: 12:38 p.m. – Cafeteria)
Daniel Park called Jiho Park to sit next to him. As he spoke, he greeted him with a friendly, relaxed expression, as if there were no barriers between them.
"Jiho, sit over here."
The murmuring was instant. Some were surprised. Others took it as a kind gesture. Eyes crossed paths, evaluating the meaning behind that invitation.
Jiho, nervous, replied:
"S… sure."
He sat stiffly, as if afraid he'd break the floor by breathing too hard.
Then Zack Lee, Doo Lee, and their lackeys walked in. Seeing Jiho next to Daniel, their gazes sharpened. Tension crawled across the floor.
"Well, well… the pet's changing owners," Doo whispered.
But what triggered everything was a mocking, clear, arrogant voice.
"Ohhh… isn't that the guy who knocked out Zack Lee with a single punch?"
Heads turned.
There he was: Vin Jin. Black hoodie, gray pants, expensive sneakers. But the most striking thing were his dark, heavily tinted sunglasses.
"He looks good, sure," said Vin Jin, pointing at Daniel. "But come on, I look better, right?"
Some laughed. Others watched without intervening.
Vin Jin continued:
"You got knocked out by that handsome guy, Zack. You deserved it for hanging out with ugly dudes. Hahaha."
Zack, hands in his pockets, smiled humorlessly.
"Maybe I lost to a handsome bastard… but I don't think I'll lose to you."
"Oh? You wanna die?" Vin Jin replied, stretching his neck, still smiling.
Zack threw his fist… and stopped it inches from Vin Jin's face.
"Kill me if you can," Zack said dryly, though his jaw was noticeably tense.
Vin Jin also had his hand raised, in a gripping motion, just a centimeter from Zack.
But before anything could happen, another voice broke the tension:
"What? A fight between Vin Jin and Zack Lee?"
It was Vasco. Tall, firm, with a confused expression.
Daniel Park stood up enthusiastically.
"Hi!"
Vasco looked at him, puzzled.
"You know me?"
He approached Daniel, facing him closely.
"You've always had it easy, huh? Just because you're good-looking… and a bit strong… doesn't mean you can act cocky."
And without warning, Vasco gave Daniel his famous grip, trying to humiliate him physically and morally.
But Daniel grabbed his wrist with ease.
"Sorry if I upset you… I must've mistaken you for someone else."
The gesture was clean, nonviolent, but enough to stop the grip.
Everyone went silent. Even Vin Jin, since that move from Vasco was usually pretty strong.
Before Vasco could act again, Jace Park appeared, with his carefree smile.
"Ahaha… you mistook him for someone else, huh?"
"Yeah, sorry," said Daniel, releasing Vasco.
"No worries. It happens," Jace replied, stepping in.
As Vasco left, he turned to Jiho Park.
"You, the weakling… don't submit to guys like those. Believe in yourself."
And they left.
(Time: 5:54 p.m. – Cho Institute)
Namsoo was back on the tatami. This time Master Cho had him practice basic movements, blocks, and falls. He corrected him with slaps on the thighs or elbows.
"Your center of gravity is too high. Learn to lower it. Let the ground recognize you."
He tried a controlled fall. His elbow felt the impact, but this time he didn't fall like a sheet of paper. His body was starting to accept its function.
(Time: 7:07 p.m.)
He showered, got dressed, and returned home. His mother no longer asked anything. She simply waited with a plate of well-cooked samgyeopsal, white rice, seaweed soup, and tofu.
"Eat. You look paler than yesterday," she said without judgment.
"Thanks," he replied, with a slight bow.
He ate in silence. Not out of discomfort, but because he was focused on the food. He was starving. His body needed energy and protein at that moment.
(Thursday, April 4 – 6:09 a.m.)
His legs hurt, but the jog remained a ritual. The streets were still asleep and the air, heavy with morning humidity, forced him to breathe deeply. Forty minutes later, after an irregular jog and two moments where he thought of giving up, he collapsed on the park ground.
Push-ups. Set after set, until his arms trembled. They were no longer exercise—they were mental endurance. His body, less fragile each day, was beginning to follow instructions. Though progress was slow, the habit was already carved in.
(Time: 8:02 a.m. – J High School)
Classes went on as usual. The classroom was noisy. Unnecessary comments, the usual.
But at lunch, something changed.
(Time: 12:32 p.m. – Cafeteria)
Jiho Park arrived with his tray, nervous, but more at ease with Namsoo than in previous days. He sat beside him, as if it were routine.
Then Daniel Park sat down too.
His face radiated kindness. He always looked like he'd just stepped out of a commercial, but his attitude was genuine.
"Hi," he said, with a sincere smile. "I'm Daniel."
"Namsoo Lee," he replied, bowing slightly.
Zoe Park fluttered around like a bee without a hive, constantly seeking attention. Daniel remained kind, though his eyes didn't seem distracted by her.
After that, the day went on normally. Namsoo went to train, then came home, showered, and went to sleep. Of course, he ate something first.
(Friday, April 4 – 12:48 p.m. – Cafeteria)
Daniel and Jiho walked with their trays. But their steps stopped.
A short, chubby boy was being slammed against a wall by Vin Jin. It was Duke Pyeon. The scene was uncomfortable, unnecessary. Vin Jin mocked him with a sarcastic tone.
Daniel watched. Then walked toward Duke.
"Hey, come here," he said. "Have you eaten yet?"
Duke looked at him, confused, with a fresh wound on his cheek.
Daniel led him to the table.
And just like that, without meaning to, there were four sitting together: Daniel, Jiho, Duke… and Namsoo.
The atmosphere filled with murmurs.
"Look at them." "They're the weird ones, right?" "Daniel is so kind… but those three are pathetic."
They didn't say it out loud. But everyone thought it. Daniel was admired. The others were looked at like lost animals. It wasn't hate. It was pity. And that… is sometimes worse.
Vin Jin, sitting cross-legged, threw an empty cup that rolled across the table.
"Duke, I'm thirsty. Bring me some water."
Then he looked at Daniel.
"Hey, pretty boy. Want a cigarette? Let's go smoke. Got something to say? Why are you looking at me like that? Does my style bother you?"
Before Daniel could respond, another voice broke the rhythm.
"Hey, Vin Jin. Get the water yourself. Or is there something wrong with your hands?"
Zack Lee, from a nearby table, hands in his pockets, with an annoyed expression.
Vin Jin stood up.
"You're acting like you want to get hit."
Zack stood up too.
"You can't see anything with those glasses. Is that why you're an idiot?"
But before the cup could fly, Vasco appeared.
"Hey, little glasses. Pick up the cup."
Vin Jin turned, annoyed.
"Do you guys want to die? You should leave while you still can."
Vasco frowned.
"Did your mom never scold you for throwing things on the ground?"
"What the hell are you saying? You wanna fight?"
"Alright. Let's fight. Take off your glasses."
"No," Vin Jin replied. "Don't even think about it."
"I don't hit guys with glasses," said Vasco, crossing his arms.
Vin Jin launched a brutal kick at the table, sending trays flying, frustrated.
"Don't mess with me! Get lost!"
And he left.
Murmurs flew among the students.
"There's not gonna be a fight?"
"Is it already over?"
The girls, in their parallel world, were talking about something else.
"Is Daniel going to be in the slave auction? It's part of the school festival! It'd be so fun to see him there…"
(Time: 5:56 p.m. – Cho Institute)
Training was mechanical. Chains of movement. Reflexes. Core control. Namsoo slammed his shoulder against the ground while practicing a fall. Master Cho corrected him without words. Adjusted his feet. Nothing more.
(Time: 7:12 p.m. – Home)
His mother was waiting with jeyuk bokkeum, which consisted of spicy stir-fried pork, white rice, and miso soup with tofu.
"Eat. You look like you fought the floor," she said with a half-mocking tone.
"Yeah," he replied, smiling. "The floor won."
He ate slowly. With gratitude. His body demanded it.
(Saturday, April 6 – 6:42 a.m.)
The dawn was still stretching over the city while Namsoo was already jogging with a backpack. But today he didn't go to the park. Instead, he went to the Cho Institute, since it always opened early.
Master Cho wasn't surprised. He pointed to the tatami with a nod and let silence guide the session.
Namsoo practiced falls. Basic movements. Slow defense drills. Sweat blurred his vision, but for the first time, he didn't care. He was alone, without external rhythm, just with his weakness.
(Time: 8:19 a.m. – Locker Room)
Cho approached while he was drying off the sweat.
"You've got good discipline," he murmured. "But if you overdo it, you can hurt yourself from pushing too hard, so try to rest more. I've noticed your body's a bit tense from all the training."
"Thanks for telling me that," Namsoo replied, scratching his neck. "I want to train well, but I also want to last."
Cho nodded. No praise. But no criticism either. Silent approval.
(Time: 10:37 a.m. – Namsoo's Room)
Namsoo was sitting in front of the computer, notebook open. He was studying his notes carefully. Phase Two could begin. That's right: it was about starting to steal from the bullies, then reselling their clothes. Now he was sure he could beat normal thugs. And if not, at least he could escape.
(Sunday, April 7 – 11:12 a.m.)
Since Sundays were for resting, he tried to relax as much as possible.
The body isn't built only in the forge. Also in the pause.
He spent most of the day organizing notes, reviewing names, hierarchies, connections. He also watched some videos on NewTube, about how to fight, from none other than Samdak.
(Time: 9:46 p.m.)
Sunday faded quickly. He showered. Prepared his uniform.
"Tomorrow's Monday. Another day at J High," he thought.