A dry thud echoed off the walls of the old training hall, its peeling paint reflecting the harsh reality of the place.
Soft chuckles rose from the group surrounding Liam as he struggled to his feet. He brushed off his uniform meticulously, checking if his white belt or dobok had been dirtied by the fall.
"Hey, seriously, like I've been saying, you should really take a break from Taekwondo. Might be the best thing for you." Robby, one of the students who'd started training at the same time as Liam, spoke with an air of arrogance, flaunting his green belt in a smug display.
Liam forced a smile and scratched his head.
"Haha... You and your jokes, Robby." His laugh was strained, accompanied by a tight-lipped smile. He'd heard these words countless times, even harsher ones, but he never let them discourage him outwardly.
"This isn't a joke. You're so bad it's not even fun sparring with you. You've been training for years and still haven't moved past the white belt. I genuinely believe there's no one worse at Taekwondo on the entire planet." Robby stared directly into Liam's eyes, his words cutting deep as the boy shrank under his gaze, reluctantly nodding in agreement.
"I'll... take your words into consideration..." Liam muttered, unable to maintain eye contact.
The girls nearby giggled at the exchange while Robby smirked, giving Liam a pat on the shoulder as he turned to walk away.
"That's great, buddy. Maybe now you'll find something you're actually good at, huh?" With that, he strolled off.
The class continued as usual. Those stinging remarks had been thrown at Liam hundreds of times, and none of the other students ever stepped in to defend him—not even the instructor. After all, Robby wasn't technically lying.
When class ended, Liam quietly distanced himself, sitting in a chair placed apart from the rest of the benches where students or their guardians usually watched the practice. This isolation wasn't by accident; the others had made it clear they didn't want to mix with him.
As the other students exchanged high-fives and smiles, eager to meet again, they ignored Liam's polite farewells as if he didn't exist.
'Just another typical day…' Liam thought to himself as he headed for the exit. At the front desk, his instructor was absorbed in the computer, a sleazy grin suggesting he wasn't exactly working.
"See you later, Master Grey," Liam said, bowing slightly.
"Huh? Oh, it's you... Yeah, bye," the instructor replied without looking up, waving him off dismissively.
Though hurt, Liam expected no less. He trudged toward the door, resigned, until his instructor called after him.
"Oh, almost forgot... uh, Lindy?"
"Liam, sir."
"Right, yeah, whatever. I need to talk to you about what Robby said earlier."
Liam's eyes widened in surprise, a glimmer of hope and relief filling his chest. Maybe this was the encouragement he needed. But what came next crushed him.
"You're quitting, right?" Grey, the man who'd trained Liam for years and whom Liam had admired despite his reserved nature, was now grinning—a wide, satisfied smile at the idea of never seeing Liam again.
The boy didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned his head to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. He bit his lower lip until he tasted blood, then, without another word, ran out of the building, not daring to look back.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Liam repeated as he ran until his lungs burned—a sensation that didn't take long to arrive.
He slammed his fist into a nearby brick wall, over and over, until the pain in his chest matched the ache in his hand.
The weight of weakness, failure, and lack of talent bore down on him. Above all, the love he had for Taekwondo—the one thing keeping him from quitting—was crushing him even more. Tears streamed down his face.
It wasn't the first time Liam had cried after class. In fact, it had become a regular occurrence. He hated the words thrown at him, the lack of support, the dismissiveness of others—but most of all, he hated himself.
"How can someone be born with zero potential...?" Liam muttered, looking up at the sky as though pleading for an answer. None came. After some time, he wiped his tears and walked home even slower than usual.
He dreaded getting there. His mom would greet him with excitement, love, and unwavering support—the last thing he wanted. Her belief in him only made him feel like a bigger failure.
By the time Liam arrived home, the moon hung high in the sky. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before turning the doorknob.
As soon as he opened the door, quick, cheerful footsteps rushed toward him.
"Hey everyone, I'm ba—" Liam began, but his mom had already wrapped him in a tight, comforting hug.
"Welcome back, my fighter," she said sweetly.
Liam didn't respond but returned the hug, burying his face in her shoulder.
After a few long seconds, she pulled back slightly and kissed his forehead, sweat and all. He'd told her countless times to stop doing that, but she never listened, so he'd learned to accept it.
"How was class today, baby?" she asked, her smile so sincere it seemed to chase away the shadows clouding his heart.
The boy, who'd carried a sad, defeated expression all evening, forced a huge grin and puffed out his chest.
"It was great, Mom! Actually, I got tons of compliments for my performance!" Liam lied with practiced ease. After so many repetitions, even his mom couldn't tell.
"Oh, I'm so proud of you! But when's that instructor of yours going to promote you? It's about time, isn't it? I heard from Robert's mom—his name's Robert, right?—that he's moved up several levels already." She continued chatting animatedly, the polar opposite of her son, who struggled to keep up.
Caught off guard by her question, Liam quickly came up with an excuse.
"Well... you know, Mom... he said having such a skilled white belt on the team is a strategic advantage. It motivates everyone else to work harder." Even Liam didn't believe his own excuse.
"Hmm, I guess that makes sense. But he shouldn't be putting so much pressure on my baby," she said, pinching his messy blond cheeks.
That night, in his room, Liam wasn't done training.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of weak kicks echoed through the soundproofed space—designed specifically for his practice. The walls were covered with Post-it notes, not posters of universities, bands, or bikini models like most kids his age. Instead, they were filled with motivational phrases like, "You can do it!", "Don't give up!", and one giant sign pieced together from smaller notes: "I WILL WIN THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!"
All written by Liam. None of them felt true.
"Ten kicks, and I'm already out of breath... what a pathetic body..." he muttered, kneeling on the floor in front of his punching bag. After taking a long sip from his water bottle, he sat at his computer—not to relax, but to study.
He watched videos of his teammates in tournaments, taking meticulous notes.
Milena, the blue belt, had won regionals with a perfect score, not taking a single hit.
"What flawless defense..."
Next was Roger, a black belt and older teammate. The match was supposed to be intense, but it was a one-sided massacre. Roger's robust build absorbed a spinning head kick without flinching, ending the fight with a powerful flank kick that left his opponent unconscious.
"That strength is almost unfair…"
Finally, Robby's fight. Facing a taller, more experienced blue belt, Robby dodged every attack, countering with precision and even playful jabs that didn't score points. His final move—a 720-degree spinning head kick—instantly knocked out his opponent.
Watching, Liam ruffled his hair in frustration.
"Didn't we start at the same time? Why is the gap so huge...?"
Shutting off the computer, he turned back to his punching bag.
Determined, he attempted the same spin Robby had pulled off. He leaped, feeling a brief moment of elation as if he might succeed... only to crash painfully to the floor.
THUD
"Ugh..." Liam groaned, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.
"God, I suck at everything... Maybe it really is time to move on. Maybe I'd make a decent writer," he muttered, resigning himself to his fate. But then, a cold shiver ran down his spine.
/// ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GIVE UP? ///
A text message appeared in front of him—not on his phone, but floating in midair like a hologram.
Terrified, Liam leaped to his feet, stumbling backward. The message followed his gaze. Even when he shut his eyes, the text was crystal clear in his mind.
/// ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GIVE UP? ///
/// Yes /// /// No ///
Two options appeared. Panic set in as Liam scanned the room, searching for hidden cameras or some elaborate prank. But nothing seemed out of place.
SMACK
A hard slap to his own face confirmed he was wide awake. Hesitantly, he considered the question. The answer was already in his heart.
With trembling fingers, he chose:
/// No ///
///Congratulations! You have been selected for the special "DSD" program!///
Now, faint popping sounds of fireworks could be heard.
'DSD? What's that?' Liam wondered to himself, but an answer promptly followed.
///DIVINE SUPPORT FOR THE DESPERATE!///
The message came through cheerfully, but it left a bitter taste in Liam's mouth—being called desperate wasn't exactly the most flattering thing in the world.
///Our system has identified two potential paths we can implement in your life to help you! Please choose ONLY ONE of the following options:///
///DSD TO GET A GIRLFRIEND///
///DSD TO FIGHT TAEKWONDO///
The boy blushed slightly at the options. He'd been single for so long that even God seemed to want to help him find a girlfriend.
"I-I'll go with taekwondo…" Although the first option was very tempting, Liam clicked on the second one.
///CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR CHOICE!///
///Analyzing user… Aha! Your talent has been calculated at -1 (minus one) points. Congratulations!///
The program seemed to be mocking Liam.
///Here is your complete status sheet:
Name: Liam Hebber
Title: The Worst of the Worst
Age: 17
Education: 2nd year of high school (terrible grades)
Status:
Strength: 3 points
Stamina: 2 points
Intellect: 6 points
Agility: 4 points
Dexterity: 1 point
Luck: 1 point
Potential:
-1 (minus one) points.
Special Abilities:
Taekwondo skills - very low level (locked)///