Chapter 17
Chapter 17
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: 4. Change (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
He stepped into the Octagon.
Jeong Du-cheol, gloving up as he watched Kim Hyun-seong follow him in, reacted with irritation.
“Think it over carefully. I’m not going to go easy on you.”
This situation.
Anyone who saw it would laugh.
A man who’d tarnished the reputation of mixed martial arts with drugs was now accepting a kid’s proposal to get strong for the sake of school violence. He felt ashamed of himself. If he truly saw MMA as a sport, he should’ve refused without a second thought.
But.
One hundred million won.
As the head of a family with mouths to feed, that sum meant his family could live comfortably for years. He didn’t care about the finger-pointing. Even if he was scorned and cursed in this world, as long as he could bring home takeout his family wanted on the way back, that was enough.
He swallowed his disgust.
Blaming himself, Jeong Du-cheol still didn’t turn away from the reality in front of him.
“I’ve met all kinds of people since I started training. Thugs pretending to work out would show up at the gym all the time, and plenty of kids like you came in because they didn’t want to get beat up at school. I didn’t care about their reasons. Grandiose goals, empty grudges—they all mean nothing once you step into this Octagon. Guys who had some pride in themselves would beg to quit after a few hits, drooling and everything.”
Irritation boiled up.
That kid.
How much of a pushover did he think he was?
The certainty that one hundred million could buy him off, and that pathetic resolve to learn MMA and take down school bullies.
It pissed him off.
The offer was too tempting—his heart had already swayed—but he wanted some justification to quell the rising anger. The bare minimum qualification to learn from him. He hoped Kim Hyun-seong’s grudge wasn’t just talk, that he’d show a burning desire to get strong, even if it cost him his life.
Jeong Du-cheol spoke.
“Three minutes, one round. No ground game. Just survive one round, nothing more, nothing less. Prove your resolve, and I’ll make you strong enough to justify that one hundred million.”
Clap, clap.
He smacked his gloves together.
Feeling the firm grip, Jeong Du-cheol advanced without hesitation.
“Let’s start.”
* * *
He strode forward.
Kim Hyun-seong quickly assumed a stance, and Jeong Du-cheol’s eyes flashed with surprise.
‘His stance is solid. Has he trained before?’
He had no way of knowing.
In his previous life.
Back when Kim Hyun-seong was getting relentlessly bullied, he’d trained in MMA to resolve things with strength. Not formally, of course. With media everywhere, he’d absorbed tons of info online and shadowboxed in his room—that was the extent of it.
Even so.
The difference between training and not was huge.
Kim Hyun-seong showed no fear, but the problem was his opponent: a former UFC champion.
Whoosh.
A light jab.
It looked light.
He thought it was just poked out, but the impact shattered Kim Hyun-seong’s guard.
Thwack.
Boom!
His head spun.
The moment his guard dropped, a right cross landed. Even with cushioned gloves, it exceeded what he could handle. Just one shot. As Kim Hyun-seong crumpled backward, Jeong Du-cheol looked down coldly.
“Get up.”
Only ten seconds had passed.
A knockdown already?
Convinced it was just empty talk, Jeong Du-cheol’s temper flared.
Kim Hyun-seong rose.
He reset his stance with a calm face, and without signaling, Jeong Du-cheol charged.
Thud, thud.
Jabs flew.
Their weight difference was over ten kilos.
The power shook Kim Hyun-seong’s body with just jabs. As he curled up like a turtle, Jeong Du-cheol swept his leg—a low kick. Kim Hyun-seong’s body lifted off the mat before slamming down again. He got up before he could even groan, but two knockdowns in under thirty seconds proved the reality.
Kim Hyun-seong.
He couldn’t hold out.
Certain of that, Jeong Du-cheol pressed the attack, and the relentless strikes mangled Kim Hyun-seong’s face.
Counter?
Not even a dream.
The instant he showed an opening for one, his guard would buckle under punches, his head whipping side to side. People say the gap between pro and amateur is heaven and earth. Against a UFC champion like Jeong Du-cheol—not even a regular pro—a mere seventeen-year-old like Kim Hyun-seong had no chance of surviving. Showing any potential was out of the question; the difference was that vast.
Crack!
A brutal sound.
Blood sprayed from his nose.
Kim Hyun-seong staggered to his knees.
Jeong Du-cheol thought it was over, but Kim Hyun-seong casually wiped the blood and stood.
“Let’s keep going.”
‘This punk.’
It was unexpected.
Disappointed by the utter powerlessness, yet Kim Hyun-seong kept popping back up like a weasel toy no matter how many times he fell. The pain wracking his body? The blood streaming from his nose? He ignored it all. Staring daggers fueled by rage, it dawned on Jeong Du-cheol that maybe this wasn’t just talk.
But that was it.
Even this hell for Kim Hyun-seong was Jeong Du-cheol holding back.
If he went full force, he could kill with a punch, so he couldn’t unleash everything like he’d boasted.
Not anymore.
If that fire in his eyes was real.
He needed to crush him thoroughly.
No half-measures if he was taking the one hundred million.
“Fine, let’s see how long you last.”
Whoosh.
Thud, thud.
The violence repeated.
He hammered the guard, backing Kim Hyun-seong into the corner. Kim Hyun-seong raised it high to protect his face—a decent instinct to cover vitals. But room-trained moves didn’t faze a pro. As Jeong Du-cheol cornered him, he exploded power through a split-second gap.
‘No surviving a liver shot.’
Smack!
A thunderous impact.
The infamous liver punch.
The vital blow landed.
“Gah!”
Kim Hyun-seong screamed and collapsed.
* * *
“Urk.”
He spat up clear fluid.
Face-planting on the mat, Kim Hyun-seong dry-heaved like he’d puke any second.
“One minute thirty left. If you don’t get up in ten seconds, I’ll call it.”
A cold voice rang out.
He’d been beaten to the point of trembling, yet barely half the time had passed.
Kim Hyun-seong gritted his teeth, trying to rise.
But his body wouldn’t obey.
Like a newborn calf, he kept toppling. Jeong Du-cheol figured it was truly over.
That’s when it happened.
“Fuuuuck. Get up, get the hell up!”
Kim Hyun-seong roared.
His rage-filled eyes turned bloodshot.
He couldn’t breathe.
In agony like death itself, he refused to accept this reality.
‘You idiot fuck. You waited for this moment. Lying vegetative for ten years like a vegetable, begging to turn back time, over and over. The guy who prayed to die every day—can’t you handle this? Get up. If you don’t want to relive the past, get the fuck up.’
Rage surged.
Once upon a time.
Kim Hyun-seong had hope.
Maybe he’d recover someday, and like karma, his tormentors would live in despair. But reality was cruel. Ten years on, he remained vegetative, and whenever his sister shared updates on his bullies, the sky fell.
Park Min-cheol.
He’d become a family man.
Landed a stable job, known as a doting dad.
Jeong Min-ho.
He became a doctor.
Worked at Korea University Hospital, a pride of Cheonil High.
The rest too.
Living well in their own ways. From then, Kim Hyun-seong stopped believing in karma. He was the victim, they the perpetrators—why were they thriving? He cursed God. Fantasized tearing them apart daily, praying for just one chance.
Maybe, just maybe.
This was karma’s reckoning.
His existence in this past moment to punish their lives.
Then his revenge too.
Would be part of karma.
If so.
If this was karma’s form, Kim Hyun-seong would rip them apart and gladly burn in hell.
Crunch.
He ground his teeth.
Loud enough to crack them.
He bit his cheek’s flesh to stay conscious, thrashing desperately.
‘I’m going to hell. So I can’t fall until I tear those bastards apart.’
Step.
He advanced.
Raising his guard, he glared at Jeong Du-cheol through a strained face.
Exactly ten seconds.
Jeong Du-cheol, about to remove his gloves thinking it done, froze at the sight, speechless.
* * *
He was genuinely shocked.
That last attack.
Even pros struggled to take it.
Seeing Kim Hyun-seong stand, trembling but defiant, stirred indescribable emotions in Jeong Du-cheol.
‘What kind of life have you lived?’
Taking down school bullies.
That furious face.
Kim Hyun-seong had his own story.
He’d thought it typical school violence at first, but those eyes changed his mind. A seventeen-year-old showing life-or-death desperation. Too real for empty words—he’d proven it.
That’s why.
‘He’s dangerous.’
He needed to stop him.
After the drugs.
Jeong Du-cheol regretted that day endlessly.
Better choices existed, but he’d succumbed to temptation, ruining his life. Kim Hyun-seong reminded him of that version of himself. Whatever his situation, what he planned could destroy his entire future.
Giving strength to someone like that.
Who knew what would happen.
Knowing his desperation, Jeong Du-cheol didn’t want him living a regret-filled life like his.
“Fine, see it through to the end.”
Pat.
No dragging it out.
He closed in fast, unloading weighted blows relentlessly.
Thump.
Crack!
Blood sprayed.
His head snapped with each hit, white fluid spilling on the mat.
No limit on downs.
Kim Hyun-seong kept falling but rising; Jeong Du-cheol never let up regardless. Down every five seconds. He’d held somewhat for the first minute thirty, but now the mat was soaked in blood.
It was too risky.
Worried for Kim Hyun-seong’s health, yet he rose again, eyes gleaming red.
Thud.
“Guh.”
Eyes bulging.
Another gut shot.
Kim Hyun-seong hunched but didn’t kneel; Jeong Du-cheol swung for the face.
Then.
Beep.
Beeeep.
The timer blared.
The wall clock signaled three minutes up.
“……Damn it.”
Jeong Du-cheol pulled his punch.
Kim Hyun-seong, guard still up to the end.
It infuriated him.
That he’d endure this much—it lit a fire in Jeong Du-cheol’s chest.
He flung off his gloves irritably.
“Come to the gym starting tomorrow. I’ll train you like I promised.”
He exited the Octagon.
Right before leaving fully, he glanced back at the dazed Kim Hyun-seong and tossed out:
“Of course, send the one hundred million to my account first.”