Short and Thick
It was fun. Short and thick.
Training began the next day.
In Bae Jong-gap's gym, a place plastered with photographs of wild beasts, I stood face-to-face with the old man.
"Alright, first things first."
Bae Jong-gap slid thick mitts onto both hands as he spoke.
"I need to see just how little control you've got. Hit me with a fist."
"…Hard?"
"No. Soft. Real soft. Like you're stroking a little kid."
I nodded. Soft—I could manage that much anytime.
I bled every ounce of strength out of my arm. Half of half my usual power. No—lighter still, the touch of a feather brushing past. I tapped the mitt.
THWUMP!!
"…Whoops!"
Bae Jong-gap stumbled two full steps backward, the hand inside the mitt trembling violently.
"…That was soft?"
"…I hit soft."
"Huh."
He stared down at the mitt. The leather had caved in deep.
"…This old man thought his wrist was about to snap."
I looked down at my own hand, awkward. I really had gone easy, and yet the mitt looked like this again.
"…So that's the problem."
Bae Jong-gap yanked the mitts off and tossed them aside. Then he pointed at the heavy bag.
"Fine. Let's try the opposite. Forget soft—this time hit it for real. Full power."
"…Full power?"
"Yeah. Don't hold back. It's only a sandbag. Wail on it all you want."
I hesitated for a beat.
Full power.
…Was that really alright? The image of what had happened to Do-chol when I'd barely tried was still vivid.
But the old man's eyes were rock-solid with certainty. It's just a sandbag, he said. Nothing to worry about.
…Yeah. If it's a sandbag, it should be fine.
I steeled myself. Not a person—a sandbag. Even if it broke, it was only one ruined bag.
I set my resolve, drew my fist back, and drove it forward with everything I had.
.
.
.
.
.
Bae Jong-gap was completely at ease.
Even though that monster of a kid was about to throw a full-power punch, he felt no real concern. He had an ace up his sleeve.
That sandbag was no ordinary piece of gear.
A custom job, the kind used for training big predators. Built so a tiger could rake it with unsheathed claws or an Asiatic black bear could smash it with a forepaw and the bag would still shrug it off. He'd even sprung for a brand-new one this time—four million won, a real gut punch to the wallet. He'd peeled the plastic wrap off only the day before yesterday.
…No matter how hard a punk like him hits, it's still just a punk.
At worst the bag would rock a little harder than usual. That would be enough to gauge the kid's strength.
Arms folded, Bae Jong-gap watched the scene with lazy confidence.
Han Daewong's fist cocked back.
And right after—
KWWAAAAAAAANG──!!
"……."
Bae Jong-gap's folded arms slid open and dropped.
The four-million-won sandbag…
The brand-new sandbag whose plastic wrap hadn't even been off three full days had its leather shredded to ribbons. The filling inside erupted in every direction like a fireworks shell.
In an instant the gym was blanketed in a haze of pale dust.
"……KRAAAAAAAAGH!!"
A sound tore out of Bae Jong-gap's throat—half scream, half funeral wail.
"My—my sandbag!! Four million won!! Four million won——!!"
The old man shook all over, both hands frantically snatching at the filling floating through the air. Of course nothing stayed in his grip. Four million won had already turned to dust and was drifting around the gym.
"Three days…… I only used it three damn days……."
Bae Jong-gap muttered, face blank with shock.
"When I peeled the wrap I told myself it'd last ten years……."
The old man dropped to his knees with a heavy thud. He raked the filling off the floor with both hands.
"……How am I supposed to—how—the installments aren't even finished yet……."
A four-million-won sandbag that shrugged off tiger claws and bear paws had turned into confetti from a single human punch.
Even for an old man who had spent a lifetime with wild animals, the sight was simply beyond acceptance.
And so the first training session ended in complete chaos.
The old man and I swept the gym floor with broom and dustpan.
Filling scattered everywhere, shredded scraps of leather, snapped lengths of chain—there was no shortage of debris.
"……Four million won."
Bae Jong-gap muttered again as he swept the stuffing into a pile.
"……Four million won getting swept up by a broom."
"……I'm sorry."
"Forget it. I told you to hit it, so it's on me."
Even as he said it, the old man clutched a handful of filling and stared at it for a long time, unable to throw it away. Regret dripped from every line of his face.
I swept in silence.
Even that wasn't easy.
The broom looked like a toy in my hands. No matter how gently I tried to use it, force kept leaking in.
And then—
Snap.
"……Huh."
The broom handle snapped clean in two inside my grip.
I stared blankly at the broken broom. All I had done was sweep the floor lightly…
Bae Jong-gap saw it and let out a hollow laugh.
"……Huh. You even broke the broom."
"……I'm sorry."
"Forget it. A broom's only a few thousand won. Compared to four million, it's nothing."
He tossed me a new broom. I took it and this time swept with extreme care, as if I were holding a feather.
Bae Jong-gap watched me for a while.
Then he muttered under his breath.
"……Damn. That size, that strength. Just like a bear. A real bear."
For a second I almost stopped sweeping.
"……."
"I trained Asiatic black bears back in the day, so I know the feeling. Exactly that. Looks slow and dull… then the moment it puts power into it, everything just gets smashed."
The old man had tossed the line out without thinking—just a comparison that came to him looking at my bulk.
But it hit me like a jolt.
…I am a bear, actually.
I really had been one. The joke he'd thrown out was, in fact, dead accurate. I couldn't manage any reply; I just kept sweeping in silence.
Fortunately the old man didn't dig deeper. He seemed content to let it slide as a throwaway joke.
We swept for a long time after that.
Then Bae Jong-gap stopped and spoke.
"……Daewong."
"……Yes."
"Today we learned one thing for sure, right?"
I lifted my head.
The old man pointed at the empty chain hanging from the ceiling—the place where the four-million-won sandbag had been suspended only moments ago, now holding nothing at all.
"If that had been a person, what then?"
"……."
"Remember this."
Bae Jong-gap's voice dropped low. This was no longer the old man wailing over money a minute earlier.
"Never hit with full power inside the octagon. Not even if you die and come back."
He tapped his own temple with a finger.
"Hit the head and it bursts like a watermelon. Skull caves in. ……Instant death."
Then his chest.
"Hit the body and the whole rib cage shatters. Everything inside ruptures. Heart, lungs—nothing left intact."
Then an arm.
"Hit an arm or a leg and it just rips clean off. Like paper. ……You understand what I'm saying?"
I swallowed hard.
Everywhere the old man pointed, a gruesome picture painted itself in my head—heads exploding, ribs collapsing, limbs tearing free.
I looked up at the empty chain.
A sandbag tigers couldn't shred and bears couldn't break.
One punch from me had erased it without a trace. It was filling now, scattered under my feet.
If that hadn't been a sandbag—if it had been a person.
Kim Do-chol from the debut fight flashed through my mind.
Even then, when blood sprayed and teeth flew in every direction, I had barely put anything into the punch…
…If I ever hit a person for real.
Just thinking about it sent a chill down my spine.
The old man was right. I roughly understood that this was the path I had to walk.
But still.
"……It's frustrating."
I said it quietly.
"I know I have to hold back. I know I can't kill anyone. But……"
I looked down at my fist.
"……I keep wanting to hit for real."
Bae Jong-gap's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"When a fight gets going…… something rises up from inside me. Just smash it. Finish everything. The more I try to go soft, the harder that thing pushes. Holding it back…… is frustrating."
Putting it into words made it clearer.
Holding back wasn't hard simply because I couldn't control my strength.
Something inside me kept urging me to go all out.
The instinct from when I was a bear… the impulse that, when prey stood in front of me, made me want to snuff out its life—it still hadn't left even after I became human.
Bae Jong-gap studied me for a long while, then slowly nodded.
"……Yeah. That's the beast's instinct."
The old man's voice stayed low and heavy.
"Prey in front of you and you want to tear into it. See something weak and you want to finish it. You don't crush that with willpower. It's instinct, so thinking your way through it doesn't work."
He glanced at the empty chain that had held the sandbag only a little earlier and muttered,
"I've lived my whole life next to big predators. A tiger holding back from the kill, a bear pulling in its claws…… I know better than anyone that those things are harder than dying."
Then he slung the broom over his shoulder.
"Most fighters come to me to learn how to hit harder. You're the opposite. ……You came to learn how not to kill."
"……How not to kill."
"Right. Everyone else fights to win. You…… have to fight so you don't kill. Smashing is your instinct. Learning how to rein that instinct in—that's the work."
"……Is that even possible?"
"It is. Taming that exact thing has been this old man's job for a lifetime."
For some reason those words loosened something tight in my chest.
Alone, I would have been completely lost.
How far to hold back, how to stop—no one would have taught me.
But at least now there was someone who would wrestle with that problem beside me.
"Alright. Floor's clean enough. Head out. That's it for today."
After Han Daewong left, Bae Jong-gap remained alone in the empty gym.
The old man squatted in front of the sandbag remains he had swept into a corner.
Shredded leather, snapped chain, a last handful of filling.
The pitiful end of a four-million-won sandbag that had been eaten by a bear… no, by Han Daewong.
Bae Jong-gap started to bag the wreckage, then suddenly paused.
"……Does this even go in regular trash?"
Chain, special leather… no matter how he looked at it, this wasn't ordinary garbage.
He would need a bulk-waste sticker or a disposal company.
"……Huh."
A hollow laugh escaped the old man.
"Blow four million, and now I've got to spend more money just to throw it away."
Bae Jong-gap stacked the remains neatly in one corner and stood in front of them for a long time.
The setting sun slanted through the window and painted his bent back red.
"……Three days."
The old man murmured quietly.
"Even if it only lasted three days…… it was fun. Short and thick."
Bae Jong-gap slowly bowed his head toward the wreckage, as if seeing off a longtime comrade-in-arms.
A single tear gathered at the corner of his wrinkled eye.
"……Farewell. Four million won."
And so an era came to a close.
It had all happened less than three days after the plastic wrap came off.