Discovering Hidden Talent
I tend to offer solutions rather than sympathy. I woke up at 5 a.m. and powered through my daily routine until 11 a.m. Even before my regression, if there were no fights scheduled, I'd stick to basic morning training. After boxing practice, I sat on a park bench. My breath reeked of ketones, so I rinsed my mouth with water and gazed at the serene sky. The weather was still chilly, but sparrows were flocking in the trees above. And below them, a cat eyeing them hungrily for a hunt... Peace like this was nice, but I wanted to get back in the ring ASAP. I wouldn't have a fight until next year, and rotting away like this felt like such a waste.
Brown, who wanted to turn me into a star, told me not to fight, but wasting time like this was frustrating. Even with this young body, I'd dominate clearly in the WFC. "Ha... I wanna fight."
I crossed my legs for a moment and watched the little kids playing in the park. They were totally absorbed in a game with round marbles. I envied how they could focus so intensely on something. I wanted to lose myself completely in fighting too.
That's when I spotted a group of high schoolers in uniforms swarming together. Their faces looked middle-school young, but I recognized the high school uniforms. They didn't seem gathered to smoke, so I got up from the bench. Nothing beats watching a fight for entertainment. I crept closer stealthily, and their conversation drifted over.
"Byung-chan, you really got hit by that kid?"
"I heard Young-hoon was famous back in elementary school?"
"Elementary school my ass. What, was he famous in kindergarten too?"
The big kid—nearly 180 cm tall despite his baby face—had dead eyes, but not from fear. That hooked my attention. Then, the short kid named Byung-chan suddenly charged at Young-hoon, who was staring blankly at the ground. He swung a fist straight at his face.
Young-hoon clearly registered the punch perfectly. I figured he'd dodge, but he just stared at the incoming fist.
Crack! It smashed into his nose, blood spraying, but he didn't even raise his guard—pain must've been routine. Byung-chan kept raining punches on the unresisting Young-hoon.
"Whoa~"
I could still dodge those untrained swings easily. I'd been watching Byung-chan's movements crystal clear. Slow reflexes? Nah, he'd tracked the punch too precisely. He was slipping past incoming kicks just like this one now.
Crack! Tough durability too—he took a soccer kick to the head without blacking out. Fights are fun to watch, but not beating on someone who won't fight back. The vibe was heating up, so I slipped out of the alley.
"Isn't that enough?"
"...?"
"Or you planning to kill him?"
Young-hoon's face was a mess, but he stood up like it was nothing. His hollow eyes stayed the same—pain was clearly familiar.
"Who are you?"
"Just passing by?"
"Then keep passing."
I pulled out my phone like I was calling the cops. As I started snapping pics one by one, they covered their faces.
"Nice expressions. Wanna be in the shots too?"
They were already eyeing my size warily. The whole group was caught up in mob mentality. I thought they'd rush me too, but even in numbers, they were scared.
Come to think of it, my left hand gripping the phone had a flashy compass tattoo on full display.
"Why fear a big guy like that?"
"W-who the hell is he?"
They seemed more worried about who my friends were than me alone. But Byung-chan, who'd been pounding Young-hoon, loved ambushes apparently.
"Fuck off. Never seen you before."
He muttered to his crew, then charged me. Instinctively, I drove a deep kick into his gut.
Thud!
"...!"
"Urk?"
He flew about 3 meters through the air, landed, then tumbled ass-over-end the other way. He slammed into a wall and stopped, face red as he stared at the ground.
"Urghhh!"
"Sudden ambush bullshit. Things are getting weird—grab that guy and bounce!"
The wary crew dragged Byung-chan off and scattered fast. Young-hoon pulled tissues from his bag and casually plugged his nose. The blood flow was nasty, but he handled it like routine. Shape looked okay—no break.
"Why'd you just take it?"
"...What're you gonna do about it?"
I wasn't expecting thanks anyway, but his tone was ice cold.
"Seemed like there was a reason?"
"Just 'cause I'm weak. Don't worry about it..."
If my eyes were right, I wanted to test it. So I threw a punch at his face—pure speed, stopping right before impact.
But Young-hoon flinched in shock, half-dodging. I couldn't help grinning.
"Urk?"
He'd just watched his "friend's" punches, but mine? He knew it'd end him. That reaction speed and instinct—you're born with it. Colin wouldn't even react to a sudden jab like that.
"What...!"
"This kid... done boxing?"
"What the..."
Seeing flustered Young-hoon, I didn't want to let him go.
"You've got talent. Wanna train with me? Let's do MMA together—feather to lightweight suits you."
"What... who even are you?"
"Me? The guy who's gonna be the world's strongest in four years. Follow me, and I'll make sure you eat for life."
I told him to punch in his number. He stared at me.
"W-who...?"
He'd already pegged me as beyond normal. That slight flinch from my punch? Hilarious. Weak fear the strong so clearly. Felt like he was looking at a giant.
"Enter your number~"
Finally, he dazedly gave it. I called it, smiling.
"How old?"
"...Born '95."
"You got your ass kicked like a soy-sauce dog today, so patch up. See you Saturday."
"....."
I waved and headed home. Never thought I'd wanna raise someone. But seeing him react to my punch felt... good. Can't stand watching talent get buried? Nah, I can hit people fine. They mentioned elementary school fame...
Like Whittaker always said, persistence is key. We'll find out in time.
I ate lunch early, edited some footage, then played Block Craft with Harin after school. She'd secretly smashed up an inhumane chicken farm—her pure overkill made me smile while editing. And so the weekend came. I finished morning training and met Young-hoon. He walked into the reserved place with a surprisingly intact face.
"This... ain't cheap, right?"
"I got money~ Eat up."
"...But how old are you?"
"Early '94. Friends are '93."
"Huh...? You're a student."
"Passed the high school equiv test. No school for me~"
I wanted to intro Kang-chan or Min-hyuk, but they're swamped with college entrance prep. The beef short ribs were ready; staff plated them up.
"Ever trained?"
"No..."
"Be honest~"
"Never once..."
First-timer? Even better. But he thought I wouldn't buy it.
"Our house is poor."
Poor family—explains the beating. "You wanna train? Your call."
"You really think I've got talent?"
"Hm? My coach says 'obsession' is the top talent. Even rare ore's just a rock if you can't endure polishing."
I grabbed ribs first over reassurance, continuing. "You've got a lot to prove there. Hoping you're no weed seed."
His fists weren't big for his height—just average frame. Stamina unknown. Tons to check, but Whittaker scouted me from tape alone. My eye ain't better than his, but dodging my punch? Worth investing. That grit taking punches bare-knuckled? MMA essential. Matching fire with a near-bare-fist foe—that's talent.
"Better start training ASAP before it's too late."
"Then I..."
"I'll pay half-year dues at three gyms I know."
"Pardon...?"
"Jiu-jitsu, taekwondo, boxing. Dunno when I'll head to the States—check back in half a year. Quit anytime. I'll probably forget by then?"
He flinched at "forget." Then serious eyes locked on me.
"Can... I make bank?"
"Baseline?"
"More than studying?"
"Super broad. Start a franchise, might not match that."
"More than big corp salaryman?"
"If you're serious, way more. Champ? Crushing it."
Chewing meat, I watched him bow his head in thought. My words bugged him. I swallowed and pressed on.
"Show results in half a year... I'll hire you as security at least. Same as peer corp salaryman, right?"
His dead eyes lit up. Goal born.
"You need stability in your path?"
"Yes."
Dunno his exact goal. But money-related, crystal clear. Lots go mad for cash. He's just a high school freshman—early money chase means rough life. Fail fighting? Grit alone gets corp-level pay.
"Why the States?"
"Everyone knows I'm mixed—don't I show it?"
"Ah...!?"
"Usually for training? Train till your nose bleeds. Got talent, I'll bring you every US trip. Elite path—no better shot than training by my side."
"Y-yes! I'll work hard!"
Seeing real fire in Young-hoon got me hyped.