Street Rat's Unshakable Confidence
They said I was a street kid. As the filming for Ignorant Challenge dragged on, we finally reached the last shoot. Without the show's clueless members, it was just us WFC fighters gathered together. Since it was the first time most of us had met in person, we exchanged polite greetings. As the youngest, I bowed a full 90 degrees, showing proper respect to my WFC seniors.
"Hello!"
"Whoa~! It's the rising star!"
"I've watched a ton of your fights, Hak-su hyungnim. That instinctive clinch control was just insane. The way you hold top position on the ground too."
"Why you actin' all awkward?"
"It's been a while. Haha."
I praised Seong Chanh Ho too, for how he relentlessly broke his opponents' pace with his gritty movement. There was so much to learn from these guys. Kim Hak-su chimed in.
"This kid's lip service is off the charts."
"Who'd think he hasn't even done a year of corporate life?"
We settled into our seats, and the Ignorant Challenge members started trickling in one by one. Then they brought up picking the current strongest member and the one who'd be strongest in a year. That's when Ha Min-su spoke up.
"Can I ask one question?"
"Don't."
Yoo Yeon-seok shut him down immediately. He must've known what was coming. As we all shot puzzled looks, Ha Min-su opened his mouth again.
"Be honest, hyung, you're curious too. Who's the strongest here?"
I naturally pointed both thumbs at myself. And everyone else was pointing at me too.
"Him. Look at that confidence."
"Gotta be. Leaving everything else aside, Beom-ho's in light heavyweight."
Weight class differences are almost absolute. It's true in every sport, but especially in MMA. That's why dominating two divisions in the WFC makes you a legend. The vibe was like an awards speech, so I kept going.
"I think as you go up in weight, the class difference outweighs even talent in the same division. Especially in MMA."
Everyone nodded at my words. On the ground, weight class is practically unbeatable.
"Even against a regular guy the same weight?"
"WFC is full of top-tier fighters with elite combat sense. At this level, technique? Heart? Nah, weight class is king. That's why everyone cuts to the water weight."
It's easier to beat an elementary school kid with adult experience in the same body than an adult mind in an elementary school body. Curiosity satisfied, we dove into a real debate and ranked them properly.
After Ignorant Challenge wrapped, spring faded and April approached. Then Brown announced the next fight matchups.
"I don't want to give a fight to Common for causing trouble outside the Octagon, but too many people want Callum vs. him. So Callum and Common will fight at the upcoming WFC 161 numbered event."
"You're putting a troublemaker in the lineup?"
"WFC has plenty of guys who can teach that punk a lesson."
Brown basically said there was no choice since everyone wanted to see me and Callum throw down. At my private gym, I had Mom snap some photos for me with her help.
Callen fired back at my post.
He'd posted about my variety show appearance. Guess he was keeping tabs on me after all. I grinned with my trademark mouthguard visible, snapping a goofy angle shot like those weird memes about perspective.
Mom shot me a weird look while I cackled.
"What're you doing?"
"Huh? Nothing."
"I'm starting to doubt if you're really the kid who made my back ache giving birth to you."
"I just think I inherited none of Mom's personality..."
Thwack! Mom's low kick hit my thigh like it severed the muscle. I crumpled to the floor.
"Aaaagh...!"
She just walked out, leaving me writhing in agony on the ground.
Young-hoon, like me, took the high school equivalency exam and dropped out. He'd had some attachment to school, but Bitcoin's rise changed that. He followed my instructions, paid off all his debts, and now seemed like a full-on devotee.
Dad sent him to the States recently. With Big Uncle's help, he got two months of pro security training at a firm. Dad also introduced an uncle to handle security and secretarial duties—Jake, three years younger than Dad. Probably decided after watching Ignorant Challenge.
"You must be Leon. I'm Jake."
"Nice to meet you."
"When you're in the US, I'll stick close like an escort."
"Why'd you take this gig?"
"Oh... this an interview?"
"Haha, no, just curious."
Sharp features, the kind that screamed stickler for protocol. Uncle rubbed his chin, sizing me up.
"I was originally your dad's secretary."
"Pardon?"
"Grew up prepping to be his aide since I was a kid. Your grandpa's my mentor."
"...?"
"Your dad caused a scene, quit the military, and left me hanging."
Dad's discharge had put him in a tough spot position-wise.
"But I hear there's a new talent."
"Me...?"
"Know what's wrong with your paternal relatives?"
"No?"
"They boil over too easily. Like your dad—built everything up, then tossed it on a whim."
I got it, so I shut up. Felt like the rush I got surviving in the Octagon.
"Think of me as a safety net. First meeting or not, I'm thrilled to back you."
"Why...?"
"Mowed lawns to stack tens of millions by 20? Need I say more? Plus, WFC's supernova."
I hadn't realized it was tens of millions. Thought I'd hit ten mil, but nope. I'd just been dumping in without checking—didn't expect it to balloon like that. Private jet wasn't a pipe dream anymore. Seeing pre-regression Jake—younger than me—speak bold Korean made me smile. His crisp suit screamed zero tolerance for slop. Instant like.
"Nice to meet you. Call me whatever's comfy."
"Cool, Leon. Jake Staley here. Use me as your agent starting today. Security firm covers my pay—no worries."
Perfect—I needed someone for the annoying stuff. And for handling US business in my stead. We swapped numbers and grabbed food.
Time passed, and I boarded a flight to San Francisco. Young-hoon was training there, so no dice for Callum fight. Checked my Bitcoin holdings. Confirmed the dip to 80k won, then maxed buys daily. Time to suck it dry again. Got the kids' shares at low too—enough for three generations. Shame I couldn't remember details. Better memory, and I'd have crashed the market...
Callum fight was in Brazil. Stuck to SF training. I eyed Whittaker.
"Something to say?"
"Can we bring Tahar?"
"The guy who takes 10% of profits."
"Yeah."
Less fame means higher coach cut. Standard everywhere. Money I'd normally skip, but Colin—Whittaker's beneficiary—had no beef with it.
"Money talk gives me headaches. Gym keeps me busy enough."
"Want an intro?"
"Oh? Who?"
I pitched Grandpa's secretary rec, Jake. Said he'd fly from Korea ASAP.
"So Tahar joins the team?"
"Tahar... Kid, you two mesh perfect. I'd love him too."
Coaches design styles, not just teach. Tahar mimicked foes, brainstormed weaknesses with me. AKT solid, but Tahar fit me best.
"Tahar gets 2-3k a month."
"Double his current if needed."
"Coolest fucker..."
"Colin's cool with it from his purse? Nah, pull from mine."
Muay Thai coach later—once I bulk more. Tahar joined Team Monster.
Team roster: me, Colin, Young-hoon. Two coaches. Elite squad. Gear gaps? Wallet fix. Nutritionist, admin next. Can't hogtie Uncle Jake here forever.
After a month training, dragged plane-hating Whittaker and Colin to Brazil by force. Buddy of his there—training together.