Lions Do Not Train
"Alright, one-two! One-two! That's it—keep your back straight. Stretch those arms all the way out!"
Former professional boxer Lim Jeonghwan raised his voice, urging on the members in front of him.
The gym's membership had surged lately. It was still only the hobby class for now, but people kept signing up at a steady clip.
Jeonghwan might have been a little dull, but he wasn't stupid. The reason for the spike in members was simple. Before he knew it, a certain video had claimed the number-one spot in views on his Vtube channel.
That was right—the video featuring Kayak. Most of the new members who'd registered at the gym recently said they'd gotten interested in learning boxing after watching that footage.
Even the hobby class right in front of him was about eighty percent people who'd found their way to Jeonghwan's gym thanks to Kayak's stream.
"Ugh, it looked so easy when I was watching... but this is insanely hard. How the hell does Kayak hit that fast?"
That was the muttered complaint from a man working the heavy bag.
It was a line that came up regularly whenever he taught members.
Feeling oddly pleased, Jeonghwan smiled and answered.
"Haha, she didn't just hit fast. She hit fast and hard. Continuously, without losing form, right on center."
"From the video, the bag was swinging all over the place. If I hit like that a few times, I'm wiped out and can't even throw another punch. Wrists hurt too."
"That's normal. Kayak's... kind of a mutant, you know? Among everyone I've seen, she's one of the most talented."
Indeed—that unnatural spring in her movements, the destructive power coming from such a small frame. She was a talent you couldn't overlook in any category.
Even for Jeonghwan, a retired boxing champion, Kayak was the kind of exceptional prospect who reignited his passion for the sport, someone he desperately wanted to train just once.
Well... her physicals are already so outstanding she probably doesn't even need to go out of her way to learn.
Jeonghwan genuinely thought so. Whatever the hell her body was made of, Kayak's physique was already complete.
Just as a lion born a powerhouse has no need to train, Kayak had no real need to master the martial art of boxing.
If she ever equipped that body with all of Jeonghwan's boxing techniques, she'd probably sweep through the UFC and everything else. She'd become one of the strongest humans in the world.
It might sound like a delusion of grandeur, but somehow that fantasy didn't feel entirely off-base.
Jeonghwan thought about it seriously.
Wherever people gather in large numbers, incidents are inevitable.
People all look different and think differently inside. Their ways of thinking might be similar, their opinions might align to some degree, but no two people are perfectly identical.
That was only natural. "Other people" basically meant people who were different, after all.
If someone looked exactly the same and thought exactly the same as another, you couldn't call them "other" anymore. Clone or doppelganger would be more accurate.
Which was why accidents and conflicts were bound to happen.
Just like the saying from some sage that if five people gather, one of them is trash—people were all different, and among them there were always those who pulled stunts that made most folks frown.
Exactly like right now.
A man who looked anything but ordinary approached and spoke up. His face was flushed red, his eyes unfocused.
That's right—he was drunk.
Have you ever dealt with a drunk whose alcohol habits were bad? Just as people's appearances and personalities vary, so do their drinking habits, wildly different from person to person.
Some pass out cold anywhere, indoors or out. Some get emotional and swing between rage and tears. Some just keep stuffing their faces with side dishes, and so on.
The nameless man in front of them. His drinking habit, it seemed, was hitting on complete strangers.
Not exactly a rare habit. You could commonly find the type around us who somehow grew a spine the moment they had a few drinks.
"You're so my type—would you mind giving me your number?"
"Which of us two?"
"This one here, haha... Your eyes are really pretty."
For someone supposedly drunk, he spoke without slurring, nice and clear. Answering Nikang's question, he even glanced my way.
He looked more put-together than expected. Maybe the "drunk" bit was just an excuse, and he was using the alcohol as cover to do whatever he wanted.
Well, either way, my answer was already decided. He hadn't hit on Nikang—he'd hit on me—so the result was obvious.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at the man expressionlessly and gave a slight bow of my head. Truly flawless handling. I'd gotten so used to this kind of thing that I was smooth at it now.
At first it had been flustering, and sometimes I even felt bad, so I'd reject them with an awkward smile more often than not.
But for whatever reason their brains worked that way, some guys decided that just because I'd smiled a little there was still room, and they'd cling stubbornly even after being turned down. There were more than a few of those.
After that, I started rejecting them like this—with every trace of a smile wiped clean. Better for both sides to shut it down cold so they didn't get any wrong ideas.
But the man clung on stubbornly despite my efforts.
"Why? Do you have a boyfriend, maybe?"
"No, it's not that..."
Oops. In situations like this, it would've been better to invent a fake boyfriend and say I had one. Being unnecessarily honest was about to cost me.
"I'm a really decent guy. Not saying we have to date right away—how about we just exchange contacts and get to know each other slowly?"
Wasn't it a bit much for a guy to hype himself up as "decent" with his own mouth? At the very least he should've brought a friend to do the gold-plating for him.
Actually, just recently I'd run into a duo like that. The one trying to get the number and the friend playing wingman, I guess.
The friend next to him had been so smooth with his words. The audio never cut out for a second. Of course, that didn't change the fact that I still didn't give out my number.
Anyway, back to the present—I shook my head as I watched the man who still wouldn't stop running his mouth, selling himself.
"I just don't feel like dating anyone right now."
"No, I'm not saying date right away. Just start with contacts and—"
"Ugh, for fuck's sake..."
A curse rose to my lips. Honestly, after saying this much, he should've gotten the hint by now.
Did I have to drop the soft talk and straight-up tell him "You're not my type, so get lost" before he'd back off?
Nikang and I had been drinking nicely together, and some random asshole had to barge in and ruin the mood. What the hell.
But I didn't end up having to say anything harsh. The moment I furrowed my brow and muttered, Nikang—who'd been watching the situation—stepped in first.
"Um, she said no, so keeping at it like this isn't okay. Please just leave. If you don't go, I'll call security."
Wait, this isn't even a club—there's security at a bar? I guess at a big place that draws crowds, this kind of thing happens all the time.
Having security around in situations like this would definitely be convenient. You could peel off the unwanted leeches that stuck like iron filings.
But the man's next move was completely unexpected.
The second Nikang mentioned calling security, it was like she'd touched a dragon's reverse scale. His already red face twisted into something demonic, and he raised his voice to a shout.
"Security? Security? Go ahead and call them, call them, you fucking—! Who the hell are you to call security, spouting shit like that."
What followed was even more spectacular.
Whether his emotions had boiled over past the point of control from Nikang's words, he suddenly slammed the table we were sitting at with a loud thud.
More than scared or angry, I was just dumbfounded.
Seriously? We hadn't even told him to get lost outright—we'd politely asked him to leave. Was that something to get this offended over?
Looking at that shameless display, it really did seem like the drunk act wasn't just an act. Once the commotion started, people at nearby tables started glancing our way, checking if something was wrong.
"What do you think you're doing! Hey! Someone, this guy—"
"You fucking bitch!"
The man's actions didn't stop there. Honestly, if he'd stopped at this point, we could've still smoothed things over nicely.
Slamming the table was something you could make an issue of if you wanted, but from my perspective—having seen every kind of human under the sun—that much was still something I could let slide.
But what he did next clearly crossed the line.
No matter how much alcohol had shut down rational thought, being drunk couldn't be a free pass for everything.
Nikang looked around the bar interior, calling for security. The man raised his hand toward her and swung it.
A life-or-death crisis where Nikang could get seriously hurt in an instant.
But for some reason, to me that motion, that split-second, the sight of the man shouting and clenching his teeth as he swung his hand—all of it registered as vividly as if I were watching slow-motion video.
"Kyaaaak!"
By the time I came back to my senses, I found myself tightly gripping the man's wrist.
Nikang, who'd been screaming with her head down, now staring blankly this way, was just a bonus.
"Guh... let... let go..."
The man, wrist caught in my grip, groaned in pain.
Whether he wanted to escape or attack me with his free hand, I grabbed that one too with my remaining left hand.
Then, partly to restrain him, I squeezed hard—and the man dropped to his knees right there on the floor. I'd improvised on the spot, but was this the right way to do it?
Looks like the self-defense techniques I'd picked up along with boxing at Lim Jeonghwan's gym had come in handy.
I hadn't even used the arm locks or throws I'd practiced so hard, but good enough was good enough, I supposed.
That was when security arrived. Whether one of the people watching had brought them, they came running over in a hurry.
"Over here, over here. Some guy was slamming the table and causing a scene, uh...?"
"Is this the one? You can let go now. We'll take him from here."
Both the person who'd rushed over and the security looked briefly like they were seeing something slightly wondrous, then snapped back. After that, I handed the rampaging drunk over to security.
"Let go, let gooo! What did I even do wrong! Huh!"
"Whoa, what's with this strength... Just stay still, will you? Grab him on that side."
Only after being freed from my grip, still grunting and spitting curses, did he raise his voice again.
Two people who looked like security linked arms with him on either side like they were hauling off a criminal and dragged him away.
I plopped back down into my seat and spoke to Nikang, who still looked out of it.
"Ugh, running into some weirdo for no reason just ruined the mood. Right?"
"Huh? Yeah, yeah... For real... He really was a weirdo."
Nikang just nodded slowly, her face still somewhere vacant.