The Face I Want to Show
It was past two in the morning.
Ha Ije lay curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. She had stayed by his side through the entire weight cut, and the exhaustion had finally pulled her under — her breathing ran deep and even. He tucked a fallen strand of hair behind her ear and drew the blanket over her.
Geum Hyuk slipped quietly out of the room and into the hotel corridor.
Sleep wouldn't come. The dehydration and the hollow ache of an empty stomach from the cut kept him awake. If he just lay there, all he could think about was water, and it was enough to drive him insane.
Better to move.
A light roadwork session to sweat off a little more, and tomorrow morning's weigh-in would have some breathing room.
He was heading for the elevator when something caught his eye at the far end of the thirty-second-floor hallway.
Someone was on the floor.
Geum Hyuk's pace quickened. As he drew closer, his heart nearly stopped.
A massive frame. Cropped blond hair. A build like a bear.
Alexei Volkov.
The man he was supposed to fight in the ring was lying unconscious in the middle of the corridor.
"...!"
Geum Hyuk dropped to one knee beside him. Volkov's face was ashen, his lips tinged blue. Dehydration collapse — the most dangerous moment of a weight cut.
He'd probably come out here for the same reason Geum Hyuk had: the agony of the cut keeping him from sleep. Only Volkov had gone past his limit. Cutting that mountain of a body down to the middleweight limit would have been its own special hell. His walking-around weight had to be at least ten kilos heavier. Geum Hyuk's own suffering was a joke by comparison.
He checked for a pulse. It was there. Thank god.
For a moment, Geum Hyuk considered it. He could just walk away. He didn't know Volkov's room number, and there was no way to find his team at this hour. Calling the front desk could give them grounds to cancel the fight. And more than anything — if his opponent was weakened tomorrow, that was an advantage.
But.
...That's not how this works.
Geum Hyuk grabbed Volkov's arm and slung it over his shoulder. Nearly six-foot-three of dead weight crushed down on him. His body, already wrecked from the cut, screamed in protest. He clenched his teeth and stood.
"...Nngh."
One step. Then another. He half-dragged Volkov down the hallway.
Somewhere in the dragging, Volkov clawed his way back to consciousness.
"...Hey. What's your room number."
A groan of a voice leaked out.
"...3218..."
Same floor. Lucky.
Geum Hyuk hauled him the rest of the way, fished through Volkov's pocket for the key card, and got the door open. He laid the big man on the sofa.
"...Hah."
Geum Hyuk collapsed onto the floor himself, spent. He'd dragged that giant all the way here in the middle of a weight cut. Sweat poured off him.
...I've lost my mind.
A moment later, Volkov's unfocused eyes drifted from the ceiling and found Geum Hyuk.
"You..."
"You're awake."
Geum Hyuk handed him a damp towel from nearby.
"No water. Just wet your lips."
Volkov took the towel and pressed it to his mouth. After a long while, once he'd caught his breath, he asked:
"...Why did you help me."
Geum Hyuk leaned against the window frame.
"The guy I'm supposed to put down with my own fists keeling over like this? That's no fun."
"...What?"
"I want to beat you at full strength. No room for excuses about your condition."
Volkov's eyes flickered, just slightly. This kid. Truly arrogant. But he didn't dislike it. If anything, he liked it.
"...I owe you."
"Don't bother."
Geum Hyuk snorted a laugh.
"Just come at me with everything you've got tomorrow."
Volkov stared at him for a long time. Then the corner of his mouth lifted. It was an expression Geum Hyuk had never seen on him — a crack in the iron wall of the Tank's face.
Then Volkov's phone rang. The screen on the nightstand lit up. The name on the display:
Volkov pushed himself up and answered. It was a video call. A little girl's face filled the screen — blond hair, blue eyes, a face that was Volkov in miniature.
"Papa!!"
Her bright voice rang through the speaker.
"Mila, hello. What's my little princess doing?"
Volkov's voice had changed completely. The blunt, cold look in his eyes melted into something gentle. In front of his daughter, the bear of a man was just a dad. The Russian Tank grinned from ear to ear, chatting with her for a while.
"Papa, win!! I love you!!"
The little girl clenched both tiny fists and held them up as she shouted. A smile spread across Volkov's face.
"I will, my girl. I'll win it for you."
The call ended. Volkov set the phone down. His eyes met Geum Hyuk's, and an awkward silence settled between them.
"...That's my daughter."
Volkov spoke first, his voice a little sheepish.
"She's cute."
Geum Hyuk said it honestly. Volkov smiled faintly.
"That's why I can't lose."
He looked out the window as he continued.
"A father losing... that's not something I want her to see."
Geum Hyuk was silent for a moment. A woman's face surfaced in his mind — black hair falling all the way to her waist. Eyes that had cheered for his dream even through tears. Hands that had massaged him, clumsy but sincere.
"...Same here."
Geum Hyuk looked out the window. The Las Vegas skyline glittered against the night.
"There's someone I want to show what it looks like when I become champion."
Something knowing entered Volkov's gaze.
"The black-haired girl?"
"..."
Geum Hyuk didn't answer. The silence was answer enough. Volkov huffed a laugh.
"See you in the ring, kid."
Geum Hyuk started for the door, then looked back.
"Kyakya. Kid?"
A beast's grin hooked the corner of his mouth.
"Tomorrow night, I'll show you who the kid is."
The door closed. Volkov stared at it for a long time. The corner of his mouth was still faintly raised.
"...Interesting kid."
The day before the fight. Eleven a.m.
The weigh-in began. The official scale had been set up on the Golden Palace Arena stage. Hundreds of reporters stood waiting, cameras ready. Broadcast live around the world.
Geum Hyuk went up first. The moment he pulled off his shirt, camera flashes erupted. Every ounce of fat had been stripped away by the cut. Each abdominal muscle was carved in sharp relief, veins standing out against his tanned skin.
The digital readout froze.
Geum Hyuk stepped off the scale and clenched his fist.
Next was Volkov. The giant stepped onto the scale. Looking at him now, it was hard to believe he'd collapsed in a hallway the night before.
A collective sigh of relief passed through the press. Apparently there'd been rumors Volkov might pull out over his condition.
The two fighters faced each other at center stage. The face-off. Hundreds of cameras locked onto them.
Volkov offered his hand first. The reporters murmured — the Russian Tank initiating a handshake? Geum Hyuk took it. He felt the grip, but it was different from media day. Not the crushing force meant to break him. This was recognition, offered from one warrior to an equal.
Volkov spoke in a low voice.
"Last night... I am grateful."
Geum Hyuk nodded.
"But."
The look in Volkov's eyes changed. The weight of a tank's cannon locking onto its target.
"In the ring, I will kill you."
Geum Hyuk grinned.
"Kyakya."
He let go and clenched his fist.
"Strong guys don't need words. Their fists do the talking."
The murmur among the reporters swelled. Flashes went off like mad. The two men stared each other down. All that was left now was the ring.
Geum Hyuk took a step back.
"Tomorrow night. See you at the scrapyard."
Volkov smiled, and it was chilling. The heavy brow ridges above his deep-set sockets cast shadows over his eyes — that primitive bone structure unique to East Slavic warriors. A smile that never reached them.
"See you tomorrow."
They returned to their respective corners.
Immediately after the weigh-in, the locker room door opened and Ha Ije walked in, carrying insulated lunch bags in both hands.
"Hyuk! I heard you made weight!"
"Yeah."
Ha Ije spread the lunch out on the table. Steam rose from a mound of white rice. A thermal container was packed with galbi-jjim — braised short ribs so tender the meat was already sliding off the bone, chestnuts and carrots and ginkgo nuts nestled among the soy-braised meat. Seasoned spinach, seasoned bean sprouts, a thick rolled omelet, well-fermented kimchi. Two bottles of electrolyte drink and a banana sat neatly beside it all.
She'd prepared every bit of it herself, going from Korean market to Korean market around town hunting down the ingredients.
"You made weight, so eat. You're gonna need it tomorrow."
Ha Ije handed him a spoon, smiling. Geum Hyuk took it.
He scooped a spoonful of rice and put it in his mouth. The first meal after a weight cut. The instant his starved body took in the carbohydrates, it felt like fireworks detonating behind his eyes. He added a piece of the braised short rib and chewed, and the soy marinade flooded his mouth. It tasted like heaven.
"If there's anything else you want, just say the word!"
At that, Geum Hyuk stopped chewing and looked up. And stared at her. Hard.
Ha Ije felt his gaze.
"...Huh? What?"
He didn't answer. He just kept looking. Her ears started turning red.
"No... I mean..."
She fidgeted, not knowing what to do with her hands.
"Why are you looking at me like that..."
A smile crept onto Geum Hyuk's face.
"It's good."
"...Huh?"
"The food."
Her face went even redder.
"O-oh. That's good..."
Geum Hyuk scooped another bite. Then looked at her again.
"...Hey!! Stop staring!!"
Ha Ije covered her face with her hands. She was scarlet all the way to the tips of her ears. Geum Hyuk laughed, low.
"Heh heh~"
After the meal, Ha Ije started packing up the lunch containers. She stacked the empty boxes, wrapped the utensils, wiped down the table with a napkin. Her hands moved with practiced ease, like she'd done this dozens of times.
Geum Hyuk watched her quietly. Her black hair spilled over her shoulders. Every time she tilted her head toward the sunlit window, a flash of pale nape appeared and vanished between the strands.
...She's beautiful.
The thought came unbidden. Ha Ije looked up.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that."
"Nothing."
Geum Hyuk looked away. Ha Ije zipped up the lunch bag.
"I've got a VIP seat tomorrow. Coach Hwang Jinsu got it for me."
"Did he."
"Right behind ringside, apparently. I'll have a great view of your face."
She said it with a smile, her voice teasing. But Geum Hyuk didn't smile.
"...Hyuk?"
Ha Ije tilted her head. Geum Hyuk stood up from the sofa and walked slowly toward her.
"Uh..."
She tried to step back, but the table was right behind her. He stopped directly in front of her. Less than a handspan between them — close enough to feel his body heat.
Geum Hyuk's eyes looked down at her. It wasn't his usual sly look, and it wasn't the beast's stare he used on opponents in the ring, either. It was something else.
...He looks nervous.
Ha Ije's heart beat faster. His hand came up and settled on her shoulder.
"Watch me."
The words came out low. Ha Ije swallowed.
Silence. Sunlight from the window settled between them.
Ha Ije didn't look away. She met his eyes straight on. Without even realizing it, her hands rose toward his face and cupped his cheeks. His eyes widened, just a little.
Ha Ije spoke.
"I know you're going to win. I've never doubted it."
She tilted her head slightly and smiled, her eyes curving into crescents.
One day left until the fight. From here on, it was recovery time.
He lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Volkov's face surfaced in his mind — the expression he'd worn last night, talking to his daughter.
A father losing... that's not something I want her to see.
Geum Hyuk felt the same. He didn't want to lose. There was someone he wanted to show the moment of victory.
He closed his eyes. Lee Woojin's memories surfaced.
Five years ago. The doctor's diagnosis.
That one sentence, and he'd taken off the gloves. Left the ring. Folded up the dream. A body that broke too easily. A limit no amount of effort could overcome.
So he'd thrown himself into the game.
Fighter of Legend.
On the screen, at least, he didn't break. Thirty thousand hours spent as the character Geum Hyuk. In that time, Geum Hyuk had become Lee Woojin's other self.
And now, Lee Woojin had become Geum Hyuk himself. He'd been given a body that wouldn't break. He could fight in the ring again. The dream he'd given up for five years — he could chase it again.
...Thank you.
To Geum Hyuk's body. To whatever had given him this chance. And... to Ha Ije.
Wait for me.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling lights were blinding.
Tomorrow night.
He would show the world what it looked like when the beast went hunting.