Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: High School Girl VS Verified Fighter (1)
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“Yo! They say a celebrity showed up at our school!”
A shout brimming with mischief and excitement.
The kids all rushed over in a swarm.
The place they arrived at was the gym.
The celebrity panelists were there, along with KFN's representative, Jung Seung-hyun, who had been an active UFC fighter just recently.
“O-yu-na, it's great to finally meet you.”
“Ah, y-yes, thank you for... meeting me...”
“Do you have trouble with Korean or something?”
“......”
Park O-yu-na had completely frozen up in front of Jung Seung-hyun.
Filming hadn't even started yet, but she was already insanely tense.
Jung Seung-hyun noticed and let out a hearty laugh.
His gaze soon turned to me.
“Whoa. Eun-ha, you look way prettier in person.”
“Thank you.”
“No flattery intended—it's the truth. Ah, but you must get that all the time. Sick of it by now?”
“Honestly, I'd rather hear that I look strong.”
“Hahaha. You really are from another dimension.”
After a quick greeting, we waited around a bit.
Pyo Hye-in, who'd tagged along, started slapping my arm excitedly with her palm.
“No way, no way! It's my first time seeing celebrities!”
“They're just old dudes.”
“Not them. Our Seung-ho oppa!”
Since when did An Seung-ho become 'our oppa'?
And he wasn't even a celebrity.
“Look at that nose. It's like Mount Everest on his face...”
“You're making me nauseous—back off a bit.”
I shoved Pyo Hye-in away, and this time Park O-yu-na latched onto me.
“Ugh, Eun-ha... I think I'm gonna puke...”
She was wobbling like fresh seaweed.
Looking like she'd melt away any second.
“What's your deal now?”
“I'm so nervous...”
“How do you plan to go pro with a chicken heart like that?”
“Sorry...”
She didn't need to apologize to me.
I raised my hand and lightly chopped the top of her head.
“Ow.”
“Think about your training. You puked for real back then. Sparring's fun compared to that.”
“Fun...?”
“Yeah. You've finally got a chance to use all that repetitive practice.”
Treat practice like a real fight, and real fights like practice.
A cliché, but one packed with truth.
“But what if I'm worse than expected and they boo me...?”
“Nah. That won't happen.”
“Why?”
“People aren't paying attention to you.”
“......”
A teary expression.
Did she think that was harsh?
I'd just stated a universal truth.
“It's not about you specifically. People generally don't care much about others.”
“Really...?”
Yes.
Sometimes people agonize for ages over what to wear out.
But think about it.
Do you remember what an acquaintance wore yesterday?
The day before? A week ago?
Maybe a vague impression of 'dressed well' or 'dressed poorly.'
But specifics? Impossible.
And even that fades fast.
It's the same even with people we see every day.
For example, no reason for O-yu-na to remember what shoes I wore yesterday.
“Remember what shoes I had on yesterday?”
“Yeah. Black Vans slip-ons.”
“Day before.”
“Doctor Martens with buckles.”
“...A week ago.”
“Last Friday was the PE running test, so running shoes. Nice Infinity Run, right? The laces were so pretty. Hehe...”
“......”
Why does she remember all this stuff?
Anyway.
That wasn't the point.
“Most people don't observe others that closely. So stop worrying about them and focus on yourself.”
“Okay.”
Well, this all comes down to experience in the end.
Some of it's innate, sure, but a lot can be learned.
Throw her into uncomfortable situations repeatedly, and she'll adapt.
That's what I planned to do for O-yu-na.
“Filming starts now—!”
The shoot kicked off right away.
Yang A-ri, who'd barely made it on time, Park O-yu-na, and I were introduced one by one.
After quick hellos, the spotlight fell on each of us in turn.
First up: Yang A-ri.
“Muay Thai junior national team, gold medal at the world championships. Quite the elite, huh?”
“I got some attention back then.”
“Quit Muay Thai?”
“Had my reasons.”
Yang A-ri spilled her backstory.
I wasn't really listening.
Wasn't curious, and it didn't even sound genuine.
“...I wandered off and took a break from training, yeah. But those videos? Nothing special. I could beat her right now.”
“This is the first episode. Participant list already leaked?”
Jung Seung-hyun's puzzled question.
Yang A-ri flashed sharp teeth in a grin.
“Nah, not participants. Pro female fighters.”
Yang A-ri's provocation wasn't aimed at fellow contestants.
The videos she'd seen were women's pro MMA matches.
“Come on. Talent or not, she can't beat pros.”
“They flail around like wet noodles. Past round one, power drops hard.”
“So you're confident in stamina for later rounds?”
“Least I don't flail. Not some squid.”
“You'll regret that once you're in there.”
“Elite athletes have different genes. Dunno about abroad, but Korean women's MMA? Amateur level.”
Not entirely wrong.
No intent to trash pros.
But MMA's accessibility is pretty low, that's a fact.
Saying it out loud, though—that's another story.
“Hahaha. For the pros' sake, let's cut it there. One more question.”
Jung Seung-hyun's gaze shifted to me and O-yu-na.
“You three go to the same school—even same class. Pretty tight?”
Yang A-ri's face twisted for a split second.
She answered with a hollow chuckle.
“Not at all.”
“Bad blood?”
“They hate my guts.”
All eyes turned to me and O-yu-na.
Jung Seung-hyun asked me directly.
“Go Eun-ha. You really hate Yang A-ri?”
Jung Seung-hyun's straightforward style.
Apparently always been that way as a fighter.
We might have that in common.
“Yes.”
“Whoa. Brutally honest... Mind if I ask why?”
Reason I hate Yang A-ri?
“She reeks of cigarettes.”
Delinquent trash.
“You crazy bitch...!”
The panelists held back Yang A-ri as she lunged.
Their lips were still curled in amusement, though.
“Okay, okay, calm down... Keep talking and it'll turn into a real fight. Let's jump straight to the verification spar.”
Yang A-ri geared up with gloves and headgear.
Next, her opponent was introduced.
“High School Fighting King Season 2 champion, rising star fighter, Mountain Hunter An Seung-ho!”
“Hello. Hello.”
An Seung-ho bowed repeatedly.
To the guests, contestants, staff—everyone.
A far cry from his sleazy DMs. Super polite.
“Hello.”
“......”
ZZZing—
A killing glare replaced the greeting.
He couldn't hide his discomfort.
“Something between you two? We'll talk later... Go easy since it's a female fighter. Focus on defense over offense.”
“Got it.”
Jung Seung-hyun refereed as the first spar began.
An Seung-ho in boxing stance.
Yang A-ri high guard, weight on her back foot.
Classic Muay Thai stance.
'That gets you tackled to death in MMA.'
An Seung-ho held off on takedowns.
Needed to gauge her striking, so he was going easy.
Thwack!
Yang A-ri unleashed punches and kicks freely on his guard.
“Ooh. Kicks are definitely different.”
“National team caliber shows.”
Too early for praise.
An Seung-ho wasn't countering at all.
She deserved it, probably.
“You just gonna keep eating shots...?!”
Yang A-ri got heated on her own.
The moment her movements got bigger.
Crack...!
“Guh!”
A clean jab landed.
Even light, it snapped her head back.
She flopped straight to the mat.
“Seung-ho! Dial it down. Weight class difference.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry.”
An Seung-ho cuts to about 61kg bantamweight for fights.
Walk-around looked 70kg.
Height late 170s.
Yang A-ri was tall too.
But power gap from weight and gender was inevitable.
“Yang A-ri. You okay?”
“Damn it.”
She straightened her long yellow hair and tied it back tight.
“I'm good now. Hair blocked my view—that's why I ate it.”
'Bullshit.'
Then tie it earlier.
But surprisingly, the fight dynamic shifted.
“Eun-ha. Yang A-ri's good, huh...?”
“Mm. Can't say on other stuff, but her kicks have bite.”
Crisp middle and high kicks whipping up.
Fast for Muay Thai base.
An Seung-ho hadn't caught a single one.
Her footwork livened up too.
Stayed at kicking range, probing instead of punching distance.
An Seung-ho struggled to close in, eating attacks nonstop.
Especially her front teeps were menacing.
“What's that front push kick called...?”
“Teep.”
Teep kick.
Toe up, stabbing the gut like a spear.
Solar plexus or liver shot? Agony beyond words.
High risk for catches, demands real skill.
“Timing's sharp.”
Yang A-ri's technique was better than expected.
“Hup...”
Enough to disrupt a pro male fighter's breathing.
“Way better than I thought?”
“Any female fighter with kicks this good?”
“Whoa, Seung-ho. You losing here?”
Panelists were hyped.
Last one half-joking, of course.
“Round 2 start!”
Unlike round 1, round 2 was one-sided.
“Hah, hah...”
Yang A-ri's breathing spiked hard.
An Seung-ho stayed steady.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Boxing combos peppered her guard.
Light punches, no power.
But Yang A-ri was gassed, couldn't even tank those.
“Heuk...!”
“Stop!”
Standing down called.
Yang A-ri slumped, gasping raggedly.
“Hah, damn...”
“What happened? Elite stamina, you said.”
“If I hadn't, taken a break from training... I'd win...!”
“Haha. Nah. Seung-ho stuck to striking only.”
“Aaaargh!!”
She roared out of nowhere, pounding the mat with fists.
Bad at controlling anger, apparently.
Looked kinda cute, though.
Like someone you wanna give physical therapy to?
“Talent or not, girl can't beat a male pro... Still, good showing. Kicks were killer. You're in.”
“Hah. Whatever.”
“What's wrong?”
“Pissed. I sucked.”
“You did great.”
“I sucked.”
Yang A-ri wasn't thrilled.
Unsatisfied with herself.
That aside.
Her mouth was annoying.
No manners in front of adults.
Maybe she belonged on Our Baby's Changed instead of High School Fighting King.
“Plenty of time till mains. Hit conditioning hard, work grappling. You'll be fine.”
“I'll do it for real...”
I saw last season's contestants in her.
Arrogance → smackdown → reflection.
Predictable arc.
“Yang A-ri, you're in. Word for future rivals?”
“Dunno about others.”
Her gaze locked on me.
Those sharp features twitched.
“Get that crazy bitch in the mains. Wanna beat her legally.”
On-site verdict on Yang A-ri: positive.
Talented kicks, personality, pretty face.
Of course, my turn would wipe her from memory.
“Next: Park O-yu-na.”
Park O-yu-na's turn.
Jung Seung-hyun started bantering.
“No intro needed here.”
“Why? Famous fighter?”
“Everyone who matters knows. Korea's got a genius girl fighter—amateur scene's buzzing.”
“Expect Seung-ho to lose, then?”
Jung Seung-hyun shook his head like it was absurd.
“Nah. Even then, tough. Seung-ho doesn't slack, super thorough kid.”
“But secretly rooting for his loss?”
“A little?”
“Hahahaha.”
Mid-back-and-forth.
Park O-yu-na's lips quivered as she mumbled.
“Um, excuse me...”
“Yes? Something to say?”
She adjusted her round glasses, barely forcing words out.
“I'm not a genius...”
“Hahaha. Too cocky over there, too humble here.”
“Not humble—I'm just average...”
Even Jung Seung-hyun tilted his head.
“If O-yu-na's not a genius, who is?”
O-yu-na's head swiveled.
Our eyes met.
“Eun-ha. Eun-ha's the real genius......”
“?”
Every eye in the studio locked on me.
I could almost hear what they were thinking.
You, a genius?