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Chapter 3 - First Strike

Daewon woke up earlier than usual, the first rays of the morning sun barely peeking through his window. The soreness in his muscles had become a familiar companion, but today there was a subtle difference. As he stretched, he noticed his limbs moved with a newfound fluidity. His joints felt looser, his movements more natural. Perhaps all the training was beginning to show, he thought to himself.

With a small smile, Daewon threw on his gym clothes and headed out. The walk to the gym was brisk, the early morning air cool against his skin. The world was quiet, most of the city still asleep. It was moments like these that Daewon cherished- the calm before the storm of the day.

When he arrived at the gym, he wasted no time getting to work. After a quick warm-up, he moved on to some of the basic exercises he'd been practicing. To his surprise, the movements felt easier today. His body responded more quickly, each motion smoother and more controlled. As he stretched, he realized just how much more flexible he had become. His hands, which once struggled to reach past his knees, now comfortably touched his toes. Even his kicks, which had always felt awkward and uncoordinated, were now delivered with precision and ease.

Encouraged by this progress, Daewon pushed himself harder. He practiced the stances he had learned from the scrolls, his focus intense. Each stance flowed into the next, his body moving with a grace that surprised even him. For the first time since he started training, he felt like he was truly making progress.

By the time he finished his workout, sweat dripped from his brow, but he felt a sense of accomplishment. The improvement was subtle but undeniable. As he walked back home to get ready for school, Daewon allowed himself a rare moment of optimism. Maybe, just maybe, things were starting to turn around.

But that optimism was short-lived.

The moment he stepped into the schoolyard, he saw them-Joon Kim and his gang, lounging by the entrance like predators waiting for prey. Daewon felt his stomach drop. He knew what was coming, and despite his training, the old fear returned.

"Hey, look who decided to show up," Joon sneered as Daewon approached. The other boys snickered, their eyes gleaming with malice.

Daewon tried to walk past them, keeping his head down. But Joon wasn't about to let him off that easily. He stepped in front of Daewon, blocking his path. "What's the rush? We're just trying to be friendly."

The familiar anger flared up inside Daewon, but he forced himself to stay calm. "Just leave me alone, Joon."

Joon's smile widened, amused by Daewon's attempt at defiance. "Or what? You gonna cry again? Maybe we should give you something to cry about."

Without warning, Joon shoved Daewon hard in the chest. Daewon stumbled back, barely keeping his balance. The gang erupted in laughter, their mocking voices echoing in Daewon's ears. His fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. The training, the scrolls, the progress-it all seemed so distant now, swallowed up by the relentless wave of humiliation.

But this time, something inside Daewon snapped. He was tired of being the victim, tired of the constant fear and shame. The memory of his training flooded his mind-the stances, the strikes, the determination to fight back. Before he could think, his body moved on its own. He swung his fist, aiming for Joon's smug face.

The punch connected.

There was a split second of silence as Joon staggered back, shock written across his face. The gang froze, their laughter cut short. For that brief moment, Daewon felt a surge of triumph. He had done it. He had fought back.

But the victory was fleeting

Joon recovered quickly, his expression darkening with rage. "You little piece of shit," he snarled. With a feral growl, he lunged at Daewon, fists flying.

Daewon tried to defend himself, recalling the blocks and counters he had practiced. But Joon was relentless, his strikes faster and more brutal than anything Daewon had faced before. One punch caught Daewon square in the jaw, another in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He crumpled to the ground, his body screaming in pain.

The gang closed in, taking turns kicking and punching him as he lay on the pavement. Daewon tried to curl into a ball, shielding his head with his arms, but it was no use. The blows rained down on him, each one more painful than the last. He could taste blood in his mouth, feel it trickling down his face. His clothes were torn and dirty, his vision blurry from the pain.

Joon stood over him, breathing heavily. He grabbed Daewon by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. "You think you can stand up to me?" Joon spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You're nothing, Daewon. Nothing."

With that, he threw Daewon back down, stomping on his chest for good measure. The pain was excruciating, but Daewon barely felt it. The numbness had taken over, dulling the physical agony. All he could do was lie there, broken and defeated.

The bell rang, signaling the start of classes. The gang left him there, laughing and joking as if nothing had happened. Daewon stayed on the ground, too weak to move, his body aching all over. The world around him was a blur, the sounds muffled and distant. All he could think about was how hopeless it all seemed, how every bit of progress he thought he had made had been shattered in an instant.

Eventually, Daewon managed to drag himself to his feet. He limped towards the school building, each step a struggle. His clothes were torn, his face smeared with blood and dirt. His body was bruised, every inch of him aching from the beating. As he walked, he avoided the stares of the other students, the whispers that followed him. They were used to seeing him like this-a punching bag, a loser. And today had been no different.

When he finally reached the bathroom, Daewon stared at his reflection in the mirror. The boy looking back at him was a mess- bloodied, beaten, eyes filled with pain and defeat. He barely recognized himself. His hands trembled as he splashed water on his face, trying to clean off the blood. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't wash away the humiliation.

As he stood there, staring at his reflection, a thought crossed his mind. Was this all there was? Was this what his life would be-a constant cycle of pain and failure? The scrolls, the training, the hope of becoming stronger-it all seemed so pointless now.

But deep down, beneath the layers of pain and despair, something else stirred. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A spark of resolve, of determination. Daewon wasn't ready to give up- not yet. He had come too far to turn back now.

He straightened up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. No, this wasn't the end. This was just another obstacle, another challenge to overcome. Joon may have beaten him today, but Daewon wouldn't let that define him. He would get stronger, he would keep fighting.

This was only the beginning.

Daewon left the bathroom, each step reminding him of the bruises and the pain that coursed through his body. The school hallways were quieter now, most students already in their classrooms. He walked slowly, partly because of the pain and partly to avoid any more attention. He didn't want anyone to see him like this again, but the reality of what had happened was impossible to escape. He knew the rumors would spread, the whispers would follow him throughout the day.

He arrived at his classroom door and paused, taking a moment to steel himself before stepping inside. As soon as he entered, all eyes were on him. The teacher, Mr. Kang, stopped mid-sentence, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. The rest of the class fell into an uncomfortable silence, some of the students exchanging glances, others staring at Daewon with a mixture of pity and curiosity.

"Daewon…" Mr. Kang began, his voice hesitant. "Are you alright? Should you go to the nurse?"

"I'm fine," Daewon replied quietly, avoiding eye contact as he walked to his seat. He could feel their eyes on him, could hear the faint whispers starting to circulate. But he kept his head down, trying to block it all out. The last thing he needed was more attention, more people seeing him as weak.

As he sat down, he couldn't help but notice Joon and his friends in the back of the classroom. They were whispering among themselves, grinning like they had just won a prize. Joon caught Daewon's eye and smirked, making a show of stretching his arms as if he was getting ready for another round. The message was clear: this wasn't over.

Daewon clenched his fists under the desk, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wanted to lash out, to do something—anything—that would make the pain stop. But he knew he couldn't. Not here, not now. He was outnumbered, outmatched. And after what had happened earlier, he couldn't risk another beating. Not today.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Daewon barely paid attention to the lessons, his mind too preoccupied with everything that had happened. The soreness in his body made it difficult to focus, and the humiliation of the morning weighed heavily on his mind. Every time he tried to concentrate, his thoughts would drift back to that moment—the feeling of his fist connecting with Joon's face, the brief surge of hope, and the crushing defeat that followed.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Daewon was exhausted. His body ached, and the weight of everything that had happened felt like a heavy burden on his shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to go home, to retreat to the safety of his room and shut out the world. But he knew he couldn't hide forever.

As Daewon gathered his things, he noticed Seojun Lee, a quiet classmate who had always been friendly to him, lingering near the door. Seojun gave him a small nod, as if to say he understood, but didn't say anything. It was a gesture that Daewon appreciated more than he could express. Even though Seojun didn't get involved, the silent support was enough to give Daewon a small bit of comfort.

"Hey, Daewon," Seojun finally spoke as Daewon approached the door. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Daewon nodded, grateful for the kindness. "Thanks, Seojun. I will."

He left the classroom, Seojun's words echoing in his mind. Take care of yourself. It was easier said than done, but it was something he needed to hear. As he walked home, his thoughts returned to the scrolls and books he had discovered. They were his only hope, the one thing that might give him the strength to change his situation. But today had shown him just how far he still had to go.

When Daewon finally reached home, he headed straight for his room. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of relief, but also a reminder of what had driven him to start this journey in the first place. He sat down on the floor, carefully pulling out the scrolls and books from their hidden compartment. The sight of them brought a renewed sense of determination. He had started this for a reason, and he wasn't going to give up now.

As he unrolled one of the scrolls, he traced the intricate diagrams and detailed instructions with his fingers. The words "discipline" and "patience" stood out to him, concepts that he knew he needed to embrace if he was going to succeed. Today had been a setback, but it wasn't the end. He still had so much to learn, so much to improve.

He spent the next few hours studying the scrolls, practicing the movements as best he could in his limited space. Every time he felt the soreness in his muscles or the sting of his bruises, he reminded himself of why he was doing this. He wasn't just fighting to survive—he was fighting to reclaim his dignity, to stand up for himself in a world that seemed determined to keep him down.

The sun had long since set by the time Daewon finally stopped. His body was exhausted, his mind racing with everything he had learned. As he lay down in bed, he replayed the events of the day in his mind, trying to find some lesson, some takeaway that would help him tomorrow.

He knew the road ahead would be difficult. There would be more days like this, more beatings, more humiliation. But he was determined not to let them break him. Every punch, every kick was just another step in his journey—a journey that he knew would eventually lead him to the strength he needed.

As he drifted off to sleep, Daewon made a silent promise to himself: no matter how many times he was knocked down, he would get back up. He would keep fighting, keep training, keep pushing forward. Because in the end, it wasn't about winning or losing—it was about refusing to give up.

And Daewon Kim wasn't going to give up. Not now, not ever.