PC Bang Bros and Young-hoon's Debut
They said I came from the streets. It had been a while since I'd last visited the Light PC Bang. As my dad's main source of income, it was more modern than most, and he was even leading trends in PC bang interiors these days. I put on a mask and quietly took a seat in the corner. It wasn't celebrity syndrome or anything, but with Kang-chan and Kim Min-hyuk coming, I didn't want to draw their attention unnecessarily.
After a few rounds of gaming, Kang-chan showed up first, followed by Kim Min-hyuk. They naturally plopped down next to me, even more at ease than I was, the PC bang kid. "Damn, you've gotten even bigger since I last saw you."
"How tall are you now?"
"Haven't measured lately?"
"You hit 2 meters, right? We've got a 190cm guy at school, but you look way taller."
Before regression, I was 196cm. Once you cross into that rare height territory people aren't used to seeing, even a small difference feels like a massive jump. I'd felt the same seeing a 198cm fighter.
"Dad's not here today?"
"He's usually at the dojo this time."
My main game these days was Arena League, I supposed. It was blowing up so much that even people who'd bombed their college entrance exams were hooked.
"What's your tier? Saw your YouTube— you were crushing it."
"Diamond."
"No way...!?"
"You didn't sub to my channel? You even left comments."
I'd played Arena League to death in my past life. Otherwise, there's no way I'd remember the meta when I couldn't even recall stocks. Now I just played occasionally for YouTube content.
"What do you want to eat?"
"Chicken burger."
"Gotta get the house burger here."
Everyone ordered drinks, and I got a house burger plus an American-style hot dog chicken skewer.
"How do you suck at nothing? You were good at school too."
"Studying? He just acted like he knew it all. Dude would stare at books with a dictionary open, memorizing vocab."
"Whoa... yeah, true."
I might not know studying, but being good at games was a point of pride for guys. Especially as the PC bang kid, I had to live up to everyone's expectations. Guess I came off as a jack-of-all-trades to them.
We hung out at the PC bang for about six hours, then headed downstairs for spicy braised short ribs. 6,000 won per person—cheap, but man, I missed this place. I remembered the owner closing up after a car accident.
We mixed the bean sprout side dish into the spicy ribs and piled it on rice—they were copying me. "This place is legit good."
"Mix in the sprouts; it's killer."
The spicy broth and rich meat flavor paired perfectly with the sprouts.
"I didn't come here much, but damn, it's good."
"Everyone hits the tabletop BBQ spots."
Right next door was a student-targeted joint slinging stone pot bulgogi, which made it tough for spicy ribs. They even added pork stir-fry to the menu. No wonder this place struggled.
We cracked open some drinks and kept chatting. "My bro's been cheering you on hard."
"Yeah?"
Kim Min-hyuk had that maknae vibe. "He wouldn't believe you were my friend."
"Just snap a pic together."
No sooner said than done—Kang-chan and Kim Min-hyuk posed with me. I threw up a casual V-sign. I usually flexed my massive fists in pics, but for friends and family, it was always peace.
Guess I'd blown up quick. I could feel their efforts to treat me normal. These two were my only civilian friends—I didn't want to lose that.
"No matter how busy I get, let's meet up on each other's birthdays."
"Sounds good."
We made a group chat and headed home.
I asked Uncle Jake Staley to snag a house in San Francisco when one popped up. With Young-hoon or future teammates crashing there, he'd handle it.
At home, I'd game with Harin or kick a ball around with Beom-jun. Stealing the ball from that little squirt was no joke—his dribbling was beyond second-grade level. At some point, I started losing; now he outskilled me technically. Beating me must've been a thrill, 'cause he dove even deeper into soccer.
Our baby sis Hayun was always a bit awkward. Unlike Harin or Beom-jun, she never got in trouble at kindergarten—just quiet. Mom and Dad babied her a lot, so I focused on the other two, leaving Hayun out. For a kid craving special attention from everyone, I couldn't deliver. No wonder she was awkward around me. Maybe that's just the big bro role.
"Oppa, play Go-Stop with me."
"Go-Stop? Sure."
"Yeah! Lots of kids in my class are playing, so I gotta practice."
Practice for that...? Our family blood ran hot with competitiveness. Harin brought the board, so we sat and played. Hayun watched with her round eyes, staring blankly from the side.
"Wanna try, Hayun?"
"Yeah."
"Get five in a row to win."
"I know."
Short answer, laced with that annoyed tone just like Mom's. But... Harin's eyes iced over the second she heard it. She tilted her head at Hayun, who flinched and gave an awkward smile.
"L-like this?"
"You're good."
Harin's glare at the spooked Hayun was brutal—I rubbed my face. Did she smack her when I wasn't around...? Still, a bit of discipline was necessary. Solid little enforcer.
Late July, Seong Chanh Ho's title fight against featherweight champ Fab Aldo got booked. Wanted to watch live, but training while watching Young-hoon ate my time. Come August, I took Young-hoon to America.
Uncle Jake got us a house, but no interior yet. We crashed at Might's place and kept training. Around then, Brown announced my fight with Malloy.
Reactions split three ways: some mocked me for picking a striker 'cause I feared grapplers. My defenders said I didn't get to choose low-rankers; fun-seekers wanted striker-vs-striker action. I ignored the noise.
After a month of training, we headed to LA for Young-hoon's bout. Past life, I'd never hit LA; this time, it was frequent.
Young-hoon drew eyes right away—rocking Team Monster gear like Colin and me. Post-weigh-in, Colin bailed to the hotel, overwhelmed.
"Don't you wanna be like me?"
"Honestly, not really."
"Huh?"
"Just wanna stand next to you."
I tilted my head—that seemed always possible. Reading my mind, he glanced at me mid-yoga.
"As a Team Monster member, not bodyguard."
"Oh..."
Standing by me as a teammate was his goal. That fired me up. To dodge "bloodsucker" accusations, he'd need standout results.
Next day, locker room. Young-hoon drilled wrestling defense nonstop.
"Don't give a damn about his safety till the ref stops it. The octagon can get endlessly brutal."
My words sharpened his attacks. Seeing him fight-ready got me hyped. Whittaker must've felt this watching me.
Inspector ref entered; Young-hoon hit the bathroom like me, then prepped. His entrance tune hit as we confirmed readiness.
He didn't ape me—no Taegukgi cape. He walked calmly to the octagon, mind locked in from the start. Spotting me with the coaches, some fans yelled.
"Comon!"
Guess I was MMA's rising star. Decent crowd, but lots calling my name. Young-hoon was the star today... Next time, guest seats till my turn.
Young-hoon, 183cm, fought lightweight. Oiled with Vaseline, he entered stone-faced—no nerves. Outside the cage with Whittaker and Tahar, sizing the foe.
"Whaddya think up close?"
"Core screams wrestler."
"Yeah, striker body it's not."
Young-hoon skipped amateur fights. Sparring me daily, his level made them pointless. Champs here were unranked in WFC anyway. If he folded after this training, I'd misjudged him—stick to pro bodyguard.
Adam and Young-hoon got rules, retreated to fence ends. Ref barked "Fight!"
Glove touch, opponent crouched to shoot. Young-hoon raised his lead hand, stepped in, jammed an elbow to the face.
Crack!
Opponent winced, eyes shut—straight right to the jaw, then deeper. Blocked a weak punch with his forehead, another straight.
Thwack!
Hooked the pain-guarded face. Head snapped left—straight again, near uppercut.
Smack!
Clean enough; my fist would've ended him.
"Young-hoon's movement's sharp... Punch accuracy's on point."
"Told you his eyes are better. Means precision, not just evasion."
"...Yeah, you're the pro."
Whittaker had only seen Young-hoon's takedown defense lately—worried he'd eat shots. Adam clinched for survival, but up close, fists turned elbows, grazing his brow.
Weak power? Hard body parts fix that.
Slice!