Daewon Kim trudged through the school hallways, the echo of his footsteps mingling with the whispers and snickers of his classmates.

His shoulders were hunched, eyes focused on the ground, trying to escape the sting of the taunts that followed him."Hey, loser! What's the matter? Lost your way?" Joon Kim's voice cut through the air like a knife. Joon, the leader of a gang that terrorized the school, shoved Daewon into a locker.

The locker's door rattled, and the impact made Daewon wince."Leave him alone," another student sneered, adding to the chorus of laughter. Daewon's heart pounded as he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the torment would end soon.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, and Daewon quickly gathered his things and fled to the next class.Throughout the rest of the day, the harassment continued. He was tripped in the hallways, bumped into, and given scornful looks.

Each incident chipped away at his resolve, leaving him feeling smaller and more defeated. The day dragged on, every minute stretching longer than the last.

As the final bell rang, Daewon hurried home, his backpack feeling heavier with each step. He entered his modest apartment and sank into his small bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The frustration, sadness, and anger swirled within him, consuming his thoughts.

He wanted nothing more than to escape, to find a way to fight back.Hours later, he sat in his room, the walls closing in on him. The quiet of his home seemed to amplify the turmoil within him. His gaze wandered around the room until it landed on a framed photograph on the wall.

It was an old family picture, framed in a simple wooden frame.Without thinking, Daewon's anger erupted. He stood up, fists clenched, and began to throw things around his room—books, clothes, and trinkets scattered across the floor.

His frustration poured out, creating a chaotic mess of shattered objects and disarray. He needed to vent, to release the overwhelming anger that had consumed him.

As he grabbed the picture frame, preparing to hurl it across the room, something caught his eye. A small, metallic glint was visible on the back of the frame.

Daewon paused, curiosity replacing some of his fury. He turned the frame over and discovered a tiny key taped to the back.

His anger subsided as he examined the key. It was old and ornate, its surface worn from years of use. Intrigued, Daewon's attention shifted from his frustration to the key. He began searching the room for a lock it might fit.

After a frustrating hour of searching, he spotted something odd beneath the carpet in the corner of the room. With renewed curiosity, he pulled up the carpet and uncovered a small, inconspicuous door safe, embedded in the floor.

The safe had a keyhole that matched the key in his hand. His hands trembled with anticipation as he inserted the key and turned it.

A click echoed through the room, and the safe door creaked open. Inside, Daewon found a collection of old scrolls and books. The covers were faded, and the pages were yellowed with age.

Hand-drawn illustrations and handwritten notes were visible on the covers, with titles like "Learn How to Fight," "Martial Arts," and simply "Fight."Daewon's heart raced as he pulled the books and scrolls from the safe. He leafed through the pages, absorbing the information with growing excitement.

The thought of learning to fight, of gaining control over his own life, sparked a flicker of hope in him.He stared at the cover of one particular scroll, his mind racing with possibilities.

For the first time in a long while, Daewon felt a glimmer of hope. He took a deep breath and said to himself, "Learn how to fight." It was a promise, a new beginning.As he carefully examined the scrolls and books, Daewon felt a renewed sense of determination. This was his chance to change everything.

The path to transformation was just beginning, and he was ready to take the first step.