Rise and Apologize
Gotta get an apology when he wakes up.
"Hyung, how's the gym doing these days?"
"Eh, just getting by, you know."
"Huh? Why? I thought it was booming like crazy."
Coach Geumjin looked puzzled at Coach Baek Sangha's words. This was the gym where Kim Donghu—the child actor currently at the peak of his popularity—was training. He figured it'd be packed to the brim, maybe even exploding at the seams.
Then it hit him. He remembered what kind of guy Baek Sangha was.
"Hyung, you didn't tell anyone around here? That Kim Donghu trains at your gym?!"
"Hey, hey, keep it down—the kids'll hear."
"No, are you insane? Why wouldn't you say anything?!"
In an era when gyms were popping up left and right, promotion was the best marketing tool there was. Even slipping it into some flyers—that Kim Donghu trains here—would've been a goldmine. Why hold back?
And it wasn't even something you could hide forever. Once a couple new students showed up, word would spread that it was Kim Donghu's gym. Honestly, the fact that it hadn't leaked yet was the real mystery.
"I said keep it down."
"...Why the hell not?"
"What's the point if it messes with the kids' training?"
"Hyung, you know principles don't pay the bills, right? And you're still pulling this?"
Coach Baek Sangha clamped his mouth shut at Coach Geumjin's words. He knew their views on this would never align.
Man, the guy's consistent as ever.
Coach Geumjin found Baek Sangha frustrating. He'd been like this from the start—back when he stepped up to crack down on that toxic boot camp culture, running around like a madman.
"So true to form, hyung. Classic you."
Coach Baek Sangha operated on unshakeable principles, with zero room for compromise. So, to drive the nail in once and for all, he spoke up again.
"Donghu's my disciple. My prized pupil. I've been training him since he was a snot-nosed kid."
From Kim Donghu's runny-nosed elementary school days to now—it added up to about nine years by the calendar.
"He's like my nephew. How could I exploit a kid like that? He came here to train, not to show off his face."
"No, I get it, I do... But hyung, you know what I'm saying."
"My gym is for people who come to train. Not to gawk at celebrities."
"...Man."
Coach Geumjin glanced at the bold Martial Way emblazoned across Baek Sangha's T-shirt chest. Who else embodied the martial way—like Baek Sangha? The guy was martial arts through and through, down to his bones.
To run a gym, you needed some merchant savvy. But Baek Sangha had none of that—just pure, stubborn martial purity. That was why people called him inflexible, and why he never changed. It was also why the juniors respected him.
Anyway, that was that.
"You sure it'll be okay? Donghu doesn't have much sparring experience, right?"
"Yeah, just with me. Nothing with peers."
The topic shifted straight to the main point. They'd planned the spar because their weights and skill levels matched up decently. But seeing them side by side now, Coach Geumjin suddenly felt uneasy.
"I'm getting worried all of a sudden. Not to brag or anything, but our Sansu's got some real power."
At those words, Coach Baek Sangha started desperately managing his expression.
"Uh, uh, yeah, right..."
Sorry, I should've said this properly. I lost a spar to Kim Donghu.
He couldn't bring himself to say it. But maybe it wasn't too late? Right as he thought that—
"Coach! Right now, that bast—no, Kim Donghu! Spar with him! Now!"
"Hey, watch your mouth."
"That's not the point! Just let me fight Kim Donghu already!"
"You little punk."
Kim Sansu's rough tone continued. Coach Geumjin jumped in shock, trying to cut him off, but it was too late—the words had reached Coach Baek Sangha's ears.
Did he just almost call my Donghu a 'bastard'?
Bastard or not, he's my bastard. Not yours. Is this punk crazy?
Been a while—maybe time to put a junior in his place?
Just then, his eyes locked with Kim Donghu's, standing behind Kim Sansu.
Nod.
Kim Donghu met Baek Sangha's gaze and nodded without a word. His face screamed "I've got this."
Seeing that, Coach Baek Sangha's expression cleared right up.
"Alright, he's begging for it that bad—let 'em go at it."
"Eh, wha? Hyung, why you too? We need to warm up at least."
"The kids'll handle it themselves. Weird to make 'em wait when they want it now."
"Ugh... You serious? I'll prep then?"
"Yeah, get to it."
Coach Geumjin scratched his head and stepped off to set up. Kim Sansu followed.
Once they were out of sight, Baek Sangha immediately—
Swipe.
Pointed at Kim Sansu with one finger, then dragged his thumb across his throat. As clear an "you're dead" as it gets.
Kim Donghu grinned ear to ear at the sight.
The setup was over in a flash. Wrapping hand tape, slipping on gloves and headgear. Hearing the rules—no fouls—and swearing to fight fair.
Enough with this pointless crap—let's fight already!
Clap! Clap!
Kim Sansu smacked his gloves together, flexing his power.
This kid two years younger than me, acting all bold? Scared? Talking shit like that to me?
Age gaps in your teens were huge—one year was like the distance to the sky. He couldn't forgive Kim Donghu for brushing it off.
Pretty boy gone mad—I'll stomp him like a dog.
I'll show you what it means to get beat like dust in the rain.
Huff! Huff!
His ragged breaths filled the ring.
Ding!
The bell rang, signaling the round's start.
Whoosh.
A light whoosh of air, then—
Crack!
The sharp snap of a whip cracked through the gym.
"...Huh?"
Kim Sansu was still dazed, unsure what hit him. But—
Insane!
Coach Geumjin forgot his referee duties entirely, blurting out in shock.
Th-that was a flicker jab?!
If it was a sloppy imitation, he wouldn't have been surprised.
It's perfect.
It was the ideal flicker jab. Straight out of a boxing textbook—flawless enough to use as an example photo. Kim Donghu's version had it all: long arms, long legs, pinpoint snap speed. Zero flaws.
Sansu, this guy's a monster. Stay calm—really calm!
If he were in his corner, that's what he'd yell. But as ref—
"This is nuts!"
Coach Geumjin could only watch helplessly as Kim Sansu got hyped up.
And then—Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Hell began.
Kim Sansu charged in, amped and furious. Kim Donghu toyed with him like a matador whipping a bull—light, playful lashes.
What was shocking was Donghu's composure and footwork.
How the hell is his footwork that good?
Calling it "light" was an understatement—it was laughable.
Funny thing: Coach Geumjin unconsciously thought of Muhammad Ali. Like the legend had possessed him.
Kim Sansu's rage-filled fists never came close.
"Huff... huff..."
His eternal fury fizzled out in seconds. No surprise—he hadn't landed a single shot, wasted energy on blind anger, ignored stamina management. Exhaustion was inevitable.
Glance.
Coach Geumjin checked the clock without thinking.
Only 30 seconds in.
In that short time, Kim Donghu had drained Kim Sansu's stamina perfectly. Not just athletic—this was chilling calculation.
2:30 left.
Kim Donghu finally got serious.
But—
Tap, tap, tap-tap.
Unlike the stamina drain, he kept up the gentle jabs. No wild moves—like that was all he knew.
And that gave Kim Sansu hope.
Yeah, he just grinded one trick, huh?
Otherwise, no way my stamina drops like this.
Jabs aren't a real threat anyway—easy to tank.
Weather it now, recover, then strike.
But his body was crumbling fast—like a drowned rat. Like a beast sinking in quicksand. Thrashing only tightened the noose—like a dumb animal blind to it.
Kim Donghu's jabs slowly choked off Kim Sansu's air.
Shiver.
Huh? Just endure it, right? Why are my legs shaking?
Kim Sansu found his trembling legs weird. Those painless jabs doing this?
Normal thinking got hard. Oxygen starved, breathing ragged—thoughts slowed.
So—
Sloooow.
Another fist coming the same way.
Slow—counter city!
Kim Sansu threw a lazy punch.
Kim Donghu, waiting for this exact moment, slipped inside instantly.
For the first time, Kim Sansu faced Kim Donghu head-on.
Chill!
Utter blankness. Eyes cold with fury.
"Sp-spare..."
Right before "me" slipped out—
Kim Donghu's hook slammed into Kim Sansu's liver.
Not just a liver shot—a perfectly timed counter liver shot.
Crunch!
His body folded toward the punch, willpower irrelevant.
"Guh...!"
Stomach churning, breath gone.
Actually, he couldn't even process that far.
Because that one shot—
Thud.
Ko'd Kim Sansu on the spot.
Drip, drip, drip.
Tension released in unconsciousness—yellow liquid trickled out.
Kim Donghu looked down calmly.
...What the hell did I just do?!
Too late, he realized.
Didn't get the apology.
I wanted to hear "sorry" first, then knock him out.
Gotta get an apology when he wakes up.
A one-sided massacre.
Coach Baek Sangha stared blankly at Kim Donghu, still breathing easy.
Did I really raise this guy?
I don't remember teaching that.
The doubt flickered, then he shrugged it off with a clean verdict.
Whatever—grew up fine. Good to go.
Kim Donghu: No issues!