Seung's eyes narrowed, recognition flickering in his gaze. He smirked, feeling the weight of his daggers in his grip. "So it's you. Finally showed up. Maybe this time, it'll be the real thing."
The figure, his double—his fear—crossed his arms, sarcasm dripping from his posture. "Overpowered now, huh? But what's it really matter?" His voice was cold, mocking. "You're still dancing to my tune. Can't deny it, can you? All that intense training, that desperate struggle—because of me, right?" He leaned forward slightly, the smirk deepening. "You're welcome, by the way. That strong physique? Yeah, you owe it to me."
Seung tilted his head, meeting his double's arrogance with a cool smirk of his own. "If you're really my motivation," Seung's voice was sharp, "then I shouldn't be able to take you down in the next few minutes."
