It's Not Over Yet!
Once the title match was set, I dove into training.
This was my first defense as champion, after all. No matter how overwhelming I was by this world's standards, I had no intention of half-assing my prep.
It was a habit drilled into me from my past life.
Whoever the opponent, you push yourself to the absolute limit before you step into the ring. That was a champion's courtesy.
So I arrived at the training gym, and—
"...Huh?"
A familiar head of red hair caught my eye.
Kang Seoyeon. She was alone on one side of the ring, hammering away at a heavy bag.
Looks like we were using the same facility. Made sense—she was my title challenger, after all. Nothing strange about it.
Seeing the face I'd only known from a profile screen in the flesh gave me a strange feeling.
The Kang Seoyeon I'd watched so many times inside the game was right in front of me now, alive, moving, pouring sweat.
As I approached, she seemed to sense someone coming and stopped her punches. Then she looked at me—and her whole body went visibly rigid.
"...Kang Hyunwoo."
Her voice was sharp as a blade. The wariness was unmistakable.
The way her eyes raked me up and down was the look of someone staring down a predator.
Well, I got it.
I was the man who'd flipped this entire worldview on its head.
A guy who'd beaten the Queen and taken the championship—any fighter would be on guard around me.
"Hey. You're Kang Seoyeon, right? My opponent for this one."
I kept the greeting as plain as I could. But Seoyeon only answered short and stiff.
"...Yeah. Don't expect a 'nice to meet you.' We'll be seeing each other in the ring anyway."
Spiky words. But they didn't bother me. If anything, I almost laughed.
This attitude was familiar.
Back in my past life, most of the people who stepped up to fight me were the same way.
All edges out, testing the air with pure hostility from the jump. The stronger they were, the worse it got.
It wasn't fear so much as a fighter's pride.
...Yeah. She's got real grit.
That was exactly why I'd liked this character in the game.
That refusal to back down. That raw stubbornness that kept boring in even while she was getting hit. I could feel it just as clearly in the flesh.
"Fine. Greetings are done, then."
I peeled off my jacket and tossed it aside as I walked toward the ring.
"We're already sharing a gym. Want to spar?"
"...What?"
Seoyeon's eyes went wide.
"Doesn't hurt either of us to get a read before the match. Not that either of us is going to show everything."
"...Are you looking down on me right now?"
Her gaze turned vicious. I just shrugged.
"Looking down? Opposite. I'm saying you're worth reading."
And just like that, the impromptu spar began.
Honestly, I wasn't expecting much.
No matter how strong Kang Seoyeon was, I'd figured she'd be kid's stuff to me.
But then—
Thud!
"...Oh?"
Her first punch was sharper than I'd expected. Not threatening, exactly. But the movement itself was anything but ordinary.
Seoyeon wasn't afraid of getting hit.
She didn't raise her guard and carefully measure distance. She threw her body in like bait, boring straight into the pocket. The instant my fist started to go, she was already looking to plant a counter into the opening.
Infighter.
The kind who hits while getting hit. Pure counter style.
Exactly like in the game. No—meaner than anything the screen had ever shown me.
...Look at this stubborn little bastard.
I slipped her counters lightly, rolling my head and shoulders—and still found myself impressed.
The gap in skill was obvious, of course.
I read every one of Seoyeon's punches before they reached me, and her counter timing was far too slow for me. If I'd wanted to, I could have ended it in one shot. But I didn't.
Because this grit, this raw stubbornness—it had been a long time.
In my past life I'd climbed to the top too fast.
There was no one left who could truly go the distance with me.
People flinched before they even stepped into the ring, and once they did, they crumbled fast.
So something always felt hollow. Having no one I could truly collide with.
But this woman, even with the skill gap, refused to give an inch until the end.
No matter how many times I slipped her, she gritted her teeth and bored back in. There wasn't a shred of surrender in those eyes.
...This is fun.
I couldn't stop the corner of my mouth from lifting.
Whoosh!
Seoyeon's all-or-nothing counter cut empty air again.
...Missed. Again.
She'd been sure the timing was perfect.
She'd thrown her body into the exact instant Kang Hyunwoo's fist started out.
But this man just tilted his upper body a fraction—like he'd already read the next move—and let it slide past.
Her fist never even grazed his shoulder.
...What the hell is this.
A chill ran down her spine.
Kang Seoyeon had never once thought of herself as a weak fighter. She wasn't the peak, of course. That place had always belonged to Yoon Arin.
But the spot right below her—the number two—she'd always believed was hers.
Aside from Arin, she'd never lost to anyone.
And yet right now.
For the first time in her life, Seoyeon was feeling it with her entire body: what a true wall actually was.
Kang Hyunwoo's movement was on another level.
No matter how fast she closed the distance, he was always half a beat ahead.
If she threw a punch, he slipped it. If she looked for a counter, he read even the intention behind it.
Like he could see straight through her head.
...Strong.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Strong... this man is insanely strong...
Because of Yoon Arin, Seoyeon had always been second.
The wall she'd never been able to climb no matter how hard she killed herself training—that was Arin.
But the man in front of her right now seemed to tower even over that Arin by a vast margin.
Now she understood.
That ridiculous rumor about a man beating the Empress.
It wasn't luck. It wasn't a fluke.
This man was simply a real monster.
Thud! Thwack!
Hyunwoo's fists slammed heavily into Seoyeon's guard.
Her arms rang with numbness. She'd only eaten a few of them, and already her legs were shaking.
A man—and the sheer power gap that let him overwhelm her, a woman, was almost despairing.
And yet something felt wrong.
...Why... like this.
Even backed into a corner, Seoyeon's heart was hammering like mad.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was racing.
She was being pushed, beaten, hopelessly outmatched—and somehow her chest was pounding, her blood boiling hot through her whole body.
This sensation was brand new.
...What. Am I... right now.
Seoyeon realized only after the fact that she was smiling.
This moment was fun. Insanely fun.
Her whole life she'd lived as number two, always in Yoon Arin's shadow.
But right now, none of that even crossed her mind.
Just colliding with everything she had against the person in front of her. That was all.
That pure collision lit every nerve in Seoyeon's body on fire.
...More. I want to fight more.
She drove strength into her shaking legs.
She forced her collapsing body back upright through sheer spite. Then she clenched her teeth and bored in on Hyunwoo again.
Thud!
Slipped again. She took a counter instead, her body staggering back.
"...Kh."
But she didn't fall. Staggering, Seoyeon still forced herself back into stance.
She wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand—and then she grinned.
"GRAAAAAAH──!!"
The heat boiling through her whole body couldn't be contained anymore. The roar tore out of her as Seoyeon wrung every last drop of strength from herself and charged at Hyunwoo.
She drove off the canvas with the balls of her feet, dropping her upper body low as she closed the distance.
The legs still shaking from the hits, the arms still ringing with numbness—none of it mattered right now.
She just wanted to land one clean punch on this man. Just one.
With that single obsession, Seoyeon howled like a beast and lunged.
It's not over yet...!
Sweat flying, breath tearing, her whole body screaming—and still Seoyeon's face was brighter, more alive with joy, than it had ever been.
We traded fists like that for a long while.
As time passed, Seoyeon's expression gradually loosened.
That sharp wariness from the beginning was gone without a trace.
In its place sat the clean, satisfied ease unique to fighters who'd truly crashed into each other.
"...Hah. Hah."
Breathing hard, Seoyeon dropped her fists.
Her face was a mess of sweat, but her eyes were far more alive than when we'd started.
"...You're really strong. The rumors weren't exaggerated."
"Exaggerated?"
"A guy beat the undefeated champion Yoon Arin, so I figured it had to be pure luck. But... no. You're the real thing."
Seoyeon bit her lip like it stung. But there was something almost refreshed in her expression too.
"...I'll admit it. You're strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever gone up against."
The hostility from earlier was gone from her face. What was left was the recognition you only give someone you've thrown everything at.
I didn't mind that at all.
"You're no joke yourself."
"...No joke? Ha. Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Of course it is. I don't say that to just anyone."
Seoyeon laughed like she couldn't believe me. But there were no spikes in it this time. Just an open, easy laugh.
It was strange. A minute ago we'd been all edges and hostility, and after one real exchange of fists the air between us had already turned this comfortable.
Then again, that was common among fighters. For people like us, fists connected faster than words.
We stood there laughing and talking nonsense for a while, until Seoyeon suddenly tossed me a water bottle.
"Drink. You sweated a ton."
"...Yeah. Thanks."
I took it and gulped it down while she dropped heavily onto the canvas beside me and drank her own. It was hard to believe we'd been throwing punches at each other minutes ago—the atmosphere felt that natural.
Thinking about it, it had been a long time.
Sparring this easily, then shooting the breeze afterward about nothing important.
And somehow, it felt welcome.
"...Let's make it a good match."
I held out my hand. Seoyeon glanced down at it for a second. Then she snorted a little laugh and took it.
"...Yeah. But don't go easy on me. If you do, I'll actually get pissed."
"Don't worry. Wasn't planning on it."
Our clasped hands tightened. The kind of courtesy fighters show when they've found a good opponent.
And just like that, I thought—I'd found myself a good rival.