Tagging the Top Dogs
They called me a street rat. So I went ahead and tagged all the top rankers who'd called me up one by one.
"So you guys really are warriors after all? Some of you had even forgotten how to tuck tail and bark."
People hadn't seen my grappling yet. That's why everyone was saying it was my weakness. They pointed to my upright stance, claiming I had zero defense against grapples. So now they were hunting for a wrestler to "educate" this Eastern kid. In this era, everyone crouched low to defend takedowns. It would be a while before fighters realized reacting to front kicks or uppercuts was easier than takedowns. Standing tall amid all that made me look like some young, technical hotshot.
"Hyung, I've got a fight in September."
"Yeah? Where?"
"Seems like LA."
Young-hoon was set to build his record in the RFC, an American MMA pro org. And he'd just gotten a bout booked. Once I hit Korea, I'd have to drill him first thing. The Colosseum didn't forgive a moment's lapse—that led straight to death. I'd avoided fighting altogether after my one death. No way I'd let Young-hoon go through that useless trauma.
Arriving in Korea during summer, I wore a long-sleeved short-sleeve shirt. Not ready for Mom to spot the shoulder tattoo yet. I'd never hidden anything from my parents in my life. But now this little conscience in my chest was pounding my solar plexus like a sandbag with uppercuts, flooding me with anxiety.
Getting home, the kids swarmed me. Harin hadn't hit puberty in my memories. But maybe thanks to Beom-jun, she had a sharper edge now. Or maybe stepping up as the eldest while I was gone had changed her. Our always carefree, giggling Harin... Should've snapped some videos.
"Ta-da~ An eco-bag for hanging with friends!"
"Why'd you buy something like this!?"
Harin bolted over and snatched the eco-bag. True to her slight Hongdae vibe back then, she dug the flashy design. Feeling the weight, she spotted the pouch inside and leaped into my arms like old times. A bit more calculating now, but after a few months, no way she'd act awkward with me. Her bright smile was the same.
"Why's it so heavy?"
"Heh heh. Rude."
"Oh? Using ladylike words now?"
"Yup~ I'm all grown up."
She never really liked makeup, but a pouch would come in handy. Not pricey, but bringing gifts every trip made her love it more.
"Boyfriend?"
"Nope~"
Staring to check, she rolled her big eyes and hopped down. "...You do?"
"Mom!!!"
I racked my brain—did Harin have a boyfriend at this age? Nope, my memory said high school senior year, a long one. He flunked three retakes, tanked his self-esteem, and wore her out till they split. Sensing my interrogation, she bolted for Mom. Let me unpack Beom-jun and Hayun's gifts too.
For Dad and Mom emerging from their room, I gave thermal underwear. Mom grumbled about the short notice but fired up galbi-jjim anyway.
"Harin got a boyfriend?"
"Doubt it."
"Her reaction seemed off."
"Maybe crushing? Kid's too pure to lie."
Harin's straight-up personality meant no fibs—I knew that. Dad couldn't lie either.
"Hiding a crush, then?"
"She's a middle schooler now—too much to spill everything."
Still, before introducing to parents, big bro needed to vet him. Mom jabbed my chest, reading my mind.
"Gonna distance from Harin? Don't be nosy—wait till she tells."
"Obviously..."
After devouring Mom's galbi-jjim with pa-kimchi, I crashed on the sofa. First day back in Korea: turn into a cow.
Then a text from Brown: How about Light Heavyweight #5, Kieran Malloy, the Irish guy? Malloy had the "KO Machine" nickname back home. Kickboxing base—not the grappler the haters craved to topple me. Brown knew my grappling was solid but had dodged it for popularity. Understanding that, he'd hooked me up with a striker.
Checked my opponent, fired up SNS, attached a first-class window shot.
In English-speaking circles, it evoked small and useless—perfect. Soon Malloy posted back: sweat-drenched, glaring at the camera. SNS talent.
Straight to Mom—classy opener. Trash-talking this guy felt like no winners. His vid recommendations spiked fast, unlike before. Reminded me of Conner Travers, reshaping WFC's future. Fight money and fame untouchable—fighters poked him for attention. I wasn't there yet, but in this era, hard to build buzz, so everyone wanted a shot at me. Beat the supernova, swallow all eyes.
Replied to Malloy's vid.
Fight around October, three months out—my four-month contract gap. Young-hoon's amateur bout, but Colin fought in August, so Whittaker skipped Korea. Tahar invited a wrestler matching Young-hoon's weight. Opponent: Adam, national team-level wrestler. Tahar's pick to ruin Adam's wrestling career.
The wrestling partner lit up seeing me. "Uh... photo?"
"Sure?"
"Huge fan. Money's nice, but fan first."
Young-hoon couldn't eat well on cut—buy him a meal. Smiled, snapped the pic.
I'd drilled Young-hoon basics across arts. Goal: body-understand foes' base styles. Now, tailor to opponent—coaches' job.
Watched Adam vids with Tahar, debated. Tahar shone at style-matching. Pushed back when I suggested my tricks for Young-hoon. Example: taught sweeps on takedowns, but he couldn't. Dad's position escapes? Nah. Still, takedown/bottom defense drilled—no finish risk. But partner swore Adam would mop the mat. Wrestling grinds stamina. Young-hoon's tank sucked—frustrating when Tahar nixed ideas.
"Need wrestling offense for setups, but..."
"Strikes win most."
"Don't project yourself on him. More attacks multiply foe fatigue."
"True, but his strikes are a wall to this guy."
"Tch... Ditch takedown offense, all-in defense?"
"Yeah. Fall means death."
Opponent couldn't touch Young-hoon with strikes. Shock absorption down—he'd tank punches unless Colin/me level.
"Heard you gave him Muay Thai for grapplers."
"Yep."
"Work on this guy?"
Grinned, nodded. "Wrestling bases got two big flaws."
They perked up.
"Most backstep slow. They're rush pros. See my Callum fight—pressure weak."
"Obvious."
"Clinch range? No forced takedown. Bend close, knee meets gut."
Clinch needs judo takedown—this guy? No.
"Elbow in close? Young-hoon holds."
"Yeah."
"Solid. Other one?"
"Endurance training kills head movement. Just front-back. New close tech incoming."
Tahar mimicked stance. As he lunged, I vertical-elbowed his cheekbone. Ronnie Hurst close-range trick. Collision alone stuns. Lowers head more, easier defense, prime knee.
"No tell—hard elbow meets soft cheekbone. Thrust for extra."
Nothing deadlier than sudden elbow. Tahar bought it.
"These two solid for Young-hoon. Still need backups."
"Obviously."
Tahar could head Team Monster MMA coaching. Taught Young-hoon with fire. Rest: insane takedown defense grind.