Ominous Signs
Kim Donghu had always been a natural at sports. One might say he had an innate talent for moving his body.
'Yeah, I knew that already.'
And it was something he prided himself on knowing better than anyone. It had been eight years now since he'd met Kim Donghu at the gym and started coaching him. Baek Sangha, the gym owner, had thought it was about time he stopped being surprised by the kid's talents.
But.
'What the hell is this?'
Baek Sangha couldn't escape the whirlpool of shock throughout their entire sparring session.
Sports always required experience as an essential companion. No matter how perfectly you executed a move, you were still dealing with an opponent. An opponent introduced variables, and even a flawless technique might miss its mark.
That was why Baek Sangha had felt Kim Donghu was special yet still had much to refine. Against a real opponent—not a sandbag tethered to the air—in a clear match-like scenario, even a genius struggled to control the variables.
'Was I completely wrong?'
Watching the scene unfold before his eyes, Baek Sangha felt his common sense crumbling.
Papapak! Punches flew like bees, feet danced like butterflies. Movements reminiscent of someone he'd seen in a video once. You'd chase the fluttering feints, only to find a fist suddenly in your face. Pinpoint strikes with no misses.
Thud!
Even pulling his punches for sparring, the impact pierced through to Baek Sangha's organs.
Huff huff.
He could hear his own breathing growing ragged. How much time had passed? He glanced at the clock without thinking.
'Damn it.'
He'd thought he'd endured hellish minutes, but only 1 minute and 10 seconds had elapsed. He needed to hold out for another two minutes or so.
'Shouldn't have suggested going full real-fight mode.'
Regretting it too late, Baek Sangha tightened his guard. At the same time, he realized he was already going all out.
Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap.
Light jabs drummed against his gloves and abdomen. It was definitely the technique he'd taught, but he'd never instructed it to this lethal depth.
A quick glance. Even amid it all, Baek Sangha checked Kim Donghu's face—and despaired.
'Donghu, I'm your coach here. Isn't that expression a bit too relaxed?'
He could at least pretend to catch his breath out of courtesy. How was the kid still breathing so steadily?
Tap tap. Tap tap, smack.
A light jab, then suddenly veering to tap the abdomen. The blatant restraint in avoiding a liver shot was obvious.
No one would believe it, but Baek Sangha had felt it perfectly in that moment.
'Donghu's going easy on me right now.'
Baek Sangha panicked at the unfamiliar emotion—the first of its kind in his life. He'd thought such moments were gone forever. Who knew the day would come when a student held back against him?
'Still, Donghu, my soul's as youthful as yours!'
After muttering something decidedly old-school to himself, Baek Sangha unleashed his full power to show his mettle as coach.
About a minute left. Vowing to display his mentor's pride in that time, right then—
"Coach! No!"
Kim Donghu's urgent shout rang out.
"Huh?"
Baek Sangha hurriedly scanned around, but it was too late.
Thwack!
Kim Donghu's fist slammed perfectly into Baek Sangha's liver. The worst possible adari counter.
His punch aimed at the abdomen met Baek Sangha's twisting torso, fully committed to the attack.
"Urk...!"
No matter how seasoned an athlete, you couldn't temper your organs. Baek Sangha dropped to his knees.
"Coach, you okay?!"
Kim Donghu hurriedly supported him.
Baek Sangha mustered every ounce of strength to speak word by word.
"D-Donghu."
"Yes, yes! What is it? Need anything? You sure you're okay?!"