The Sweet-Loving Human-Bear
The first day of the exams.
Rachel took Han Daewong to a sports medical center she trusted—the same place that handled precision physicals for UFC fighters. The director was an old acquaintance of hers, and he knew how to keep quiet. Even if the numbers came back abnormal, he was not the sort to go spreading it around.
…If it’s here, we should be able to handle this quietly.
That was what she thought.
It was a massive miscalculation.
“…We’ll start with grip strength. Grab the handles here and squeeze as hard as you can.”
The technician held out a dynamometer. An average adult male would register forty to fifty kilograms; even a heavyweight fighter struggled to crack seventy.
Han Daewong wrapped his hand around it.
Rachel opened her mouth to say “go easy,” but she was already too late.
Crack.
An ugly sound came from the machine.
“…Huh?”
The technician stared at the display. The numbers shot upward in a frenzy, then stopped—except they hadn’t stopped. The metal handles had bent.
Like soft candy.
“…Th-this…”
The technician’s face went white.
“Is the machine… broken? No—how does this even bend?”
Rachel kept her mouth shut. Inside, her head was already spinning.
…Right out of the gate.
Next came the strength tests. They loaded the leg-press machine to its absolute maximum—weight that made heavyweight fighters grunt and strain. Daewong shoved it away with a bored expression, again and again, without even breathing hard.
The technician added more plates, right up to the machine’s limit.
Daewong’s face still did not change.
“…This is the machine’s max.”
The technician was sweating cold.
“I can’t put any more on. That’s it. But this guy… he still looks like he’s got room to spare.”
Rachel swallowed.
What came next was even worse.
On the bone-density scan the numbers soared far beyond the normal range. The technician muttered about “machine error” and re-ran the test three times. All three came back identical. These were not human bones. No athlete’s data anywhere contained figures like this.
Muscle density. Cardiopulmonary capacity. Reaction speed. Recovery rate.
Every single category laughed at the limits of the human body.
The atmosphere inside the exam room grew steadily stranger.
Technicians who had started with “what an impressive athlete” were soon glancing at one another and whispering.
“Is this… for real?”
“We checked every machine. They’re fine.”
“So then this person is the abnormal one.”
“Can numbers like this even come from a human being?”
And then someone spoke the word.
“…Could it be drugs?”
Rachel’s heart lurched.
…Here it comes.
The suspicion was inevitable. Numbers that left humanity behind. Anyone who saw them would think of doping. A body like this could not exist without chemical help.
Rachel managed her expression and answered evenly.
“Run a doping screen, then. As thorough as you like.”
She said it with confidence, but a thread of unease still ran through her.
What if that abnormal body really was the result of drugs? What if something showed up—
The technicians drew blood and urine. The most rigorous doping panel available—hundreds of banned substances under WADA standards.
It took several days for the results to come back.
When the director finally held the report, he stared at it in silence for a long time before letting out a breath of pure wonder.
“…Rachel.”
“…What.”
“This man has… zero drug response.”
“…What?”
“Zero. Clean. Even his caffeine levels are normal. Not only is there no performance enhancer—this body doesn’t even take supplements.”
The director set the papers down and laughed, half in disbelief.
“…So this monster of a physique is all natural.”
Rachel could not speak for a moment.
Then, slowly, the corner of her mouth lifted.
…Jackpot.
If it had been doping, everything would have been over. But drug-free. All of it was natural. A human being who put up numbers like these without ever touching a single pill.
Headlines exploded inside Rachel’s mind like fireworks.
Drug-free. A body beyond human limits, perfect doping clearance—Monster Bear survivor turns out to be the monster himself.
No marketing story could have been more perfect.
“…Doctor.”
Rachel gathered the results as she spoke.
“Keep these test results safe. They’re going to be worth a fortune later.”
The director looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
“…Rachel. In a situation like this, that’s what you’re thinking about?”
“Of course.”
Rachel beamed.
“I’m a matchmaker.”
When the exams were finally finished I sat in a waiting-room chair and took the stack of results.
There were several pages—dense columns of numbers and graphs. I did not understand all of them. But one thing was clear.
Next to every single item, red lettering had been stamped.
— Exceeds normal range
— Exceeds measurement limit
— Outlier
I remembered the way the doctors had looked at me the whole time.
First admiration, then suspicion, and finally something close to fear.
—Can numbers like this even come from a human being?
Someone had said that.
I turned the words over quietly in my mind.
From a human being.
…Was I even human?
I looked down at the hand holding the papers. It was definitely a human hand. Five fingers, nails, palm lines. All human.
I blinked.
…A bear’s forepaw.
I blinked again.
A human hand.
Blinked once more.
A bear’s forepaw.
Over the papers, a human hand and a beast’s paw flickered back and forth. Every time I closed and opened my eyes the two images crossed, as if neither side could decide which one was real.
But the papers were saying something clear.
You have left the human range behind.
Memories of being a bear rose unbidden. The body that had ruled the mountains. The strength that flipped a car after taking five tranquilizer darts. I had thought I had become human, yet maybe that bear was still living inside this body.
Human on the outside, beast within.
It felt as if the red lettering on the paper had just proven it.
…What am I?
I pretended to be human. I drank coffee in cafés, bickered with Seo-yeon, mixed into crowds of people—yet these numbers kept insisting I was different from them.
A cold weight settled in my chest—and right then a voice spoke beside me.
“What’s with that face?”
It was Seo-yeon. She had gone to the vending machine and come back with two drinks, then thrust one toward me with a casual toss. Canned coffee. Just like the first time we met in the hospital.
“…Nothing. Just…”
I tried to hide the papers; she snagged them.
“Let me see. Whoa, look at this. Everything’s over the limit? Exceeds measurement limit? Pfft—the machine couldn’t handle you?”
Seo-yeon burst out laughing.
I could not laugh with her.
“…You think that’s funny?”
“Huh? Of course it is. Why?”
“…This is basically saying I’m not human.”
Her laughter stopped for a beat.
She stared straight at me.
“…Hey.”
She pressed the can into my hand.
“So does that paper say you’re a bear?”
“…What?”
“Does it say ‘Han Daewong is a bear’ written right there?”
“…No.”
“Then we’re good.”
Seo-yeon shrugged.
“So your numbers are a little high. So you blew past the measurement limit. Big deal. You’re just you.”
She said it so easily, so matter-of-factly—as if the whole question was not even worth worrying over.
“You drool over sweets in the café, flinch when the chair creaks, get all awkward in front of the doctors. What kind of bear does that?”
“….”
“The you I know is just a big dumb bear boy. Doesn’t matter what the numbers say. Doesn’t matter what the paper claims.”
She cracked her can open with a sharp hiss.
“So stop thinking stupid thoughts and drink this. It’s sweet.”
I looked down at the can.
Cold canned coffee. A faintly sweet smell.
…Somehow the chill in my chest eased a little.
Whether I was human or beast, what these numbers proved—I still did not know. But at least in front of this small girl, I was just a dumb bear boy who liked sweet things.
Maybe that was enough.
“…Thanks.”
I muttered as I opened the can. Seo-yeon snorted.
“What’s with the thanks all of a sudden. You’re giving me goosebumps.”
I took a sip of the coffee.
Then, without meaning to, I looked at the hand holding the can again.
I blinked.
…A human hand.
I blinked once more.
Still a human hand.
The bear’s paw no longer flickered the way it had earlier. Just an ordinary human hand holding a can of coffee. A little large, maybe.
It was strange. The numbers on the paper had not changed. Nothing about whether I was human or beast had changed.
Yet the single offhand line this small girl had tossed at me—You’re just you—had turned the hand that kept looking like a beast back into a human one.
“…Hey.”
“What.”
“This is sweet.”
“Yeah. You like sweet stuff, bear boy.”
“…I’m not a bear.”
“Sure, sure. Sweet-loving human-bear.”
I ended up snorting a laugh.
“…It feels a little better when you say it like that.”
“Oh? Look at this bear boy getting honest.”
Seo-yeon gave my arm a playful shove. Her tiny hand did not hurt at all. Yet somehow that light little thump stayed with me for a long time.
“But seriously, bear boy.”
She took a long pull from her can and grinned sideways.
“With numbers this insane… when you get in the octagon, aren’t you just gonna wipe the floor with everyone?”
“…I don’t know.”
“Don’t know, my ass. If even the machines can’t handle you, what chance do people have?”
Seo-yeon grinned wider.
“I’m looking forward to it. Watching you fight for real, right out in front of everyone, with your head held high.”
With my head held high.
Those words settled strangely deep in my chest.
Underground I had fought while hiding. Afraid of being found out, dodging every pair of eyes. But the octagon was a place where you did not need to hide.
In front of everyone, without shame.
Not as a bear—as a human.
For the first time, a small light switched on in the future that had felt nothing but blank and endless.
The canned coffee was still sweet.
Just like the one I had first tasted in the hospital.