The Roman's Debut Match
Coming up to the hotel with Coach Baek Jun-gyeong from the parking lot, we ran into a crowd. They were all big men, and with the men overwhelmingly outnumbering the women, the whole place looked like some gangster wedding hall.
"Yugyeom, over here."
Namrae-hyung, who mostly worked nights and practically lived at the gym during the day, had tagged along today too — camera in hand, bless him.
"Hyung, you really don't have to film this kind of stuff."
"What are you talking about? When you get famous, this is the stuff that pays off later. It doesn't cost a thing, so you gotta stockpile it early. Anyway, how does it feel? Your first official event as a pro fighter. Not nervous?"
I answered awkwardly.
"Well... it's less like being nervous and more like, we're almost there now — I just want to fight already."
"That's a man for you. Okay! Athlete Shin Yugyeom! Your coach is calling."
I bowed my head and went to stand beside the coach. He was exchanging greetings with several of the officials, and every time, I became the topic of conversation.
"So this is the kid with the talent, huh...?"
"Haha, that's right."
"Lucky you, Baek. Getting a sharp student like this."
"Oh please, a student, me?"
"He's not your student?"
"No. You can't call yourself a teacher unless you've actually taught something. He's only been with me three months."
"Whoa. That's real?"
"Real. A student who's honestly too good for me."
"Modest as ever."
"It's just true. Yugyeom, this is Director Ham Ju-ho, and next to him is Ham In-seop — the current KFC Middleweight Champion."
"Nice to meet you."
"I'm Shin Yugyeom."
We shook hands. The introductions continued like that.
"This is Oh Min-ji, a fighter."
"Wow, you really are young. She competes in Atomweight."
"Hello."
Of course, not everyone was friendly.
"Introduce me too, hyung."
"This is Moon Tae-jeong, ranked fifth at Lightweight."
"Fourth, actually."
"Ah, was it?"
While the coach responded sheepishly, Moon Tae-jeong looked me up and down and spoke.
"Seeing him in person, he's really just a kid. He's actually that strong? From what I can see, he's only fought regular civilians. And he even posts that stuff as content."
The coach gave a wry smile.
"That's true, but I never caused trouble the way you did. He controlled his strength, and they all consented."
"Ah! I don't do that anymore these days. Still, I'm amazed there's even a question of whether he needs to hold back. I don't think there's any 'controlling' to be done with a size like that."
"I can't beat Yugyeom. And that's three months after he started fighting."
"Oh come on, that's nonsense. Hyung! Is retirement really what wrecked you that badly?"
Moon Tae-jeong laughed as if it were preposterous.
"You tell me. Is he for real?"
There was something provoking in his tone, but figuring that maybe that was just how he talked, I shrugged.
"It's just sparring. Coach, let him watch anytime."
"See that? This hyung's exaggerating again."
Moon Tae-jeong sneered, but the coach answered with a completely straight face.
"I've never once held back against him."
"......"
Moon Tae-jeong frowned, then let out a short laugh.
"Well, fair. There has to be *something* to him, I guess. Otherwise the 'lottery ticket' who hit the jackpot and scored an event match would be all hype and no show — nothing to watch but a burden to the promotion."
So that's why he'd been so prickly — turns out he was sour about me getting an event match against a champion in my debut.
"I didn't win the lottery."
So I corrected him.
"I baited the heat myself and got served the king's royal banquet. Unless you're jealous and trying to freeload off my spoon, don't come at me with provocations."
"Ha! Cocky little brat."
Moon Tae-jeong's face went hard —
"Do you not own a mirror?"
— but I fired right back.
"If you're going to talk like that, start by showing my coach some respect."
The moment Moon Tae-jeong took a step forward, the coach wedged himself between us.
"Both of you, calm down. That's enough."
"Hyung. You need to raise your kids properly."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
"You little—"
I spoke to Moon Tae-jeong, who was chewing back a curse.
"That's enough. Before I beat you and call you out myself."
"You lit— fine, why not right now? You can't win anyway — or rather, I'll kill you before that happens. Honestly, *I'm* the one dying to get in the cage with you."
At that point, Ham In-seop, the middleweight champ I'd greeted earlier, stepped in to mediate.
"That's enough. Both of you. Tae-jeong, too."
"Hyung."
Moon Tae-jeong let out a long sigh.
"Haah......"
Director Ham Ju-ho addressed us as well.
"I know you two have bad blood from your fighter days, but this is too much. Baek, take care of your kid and head in."
"Yes. I'm sorry."
I bowed my head along with the coach.
"Let's go. Don't waste your energy over nothing."
With his arm wrapped around my shoulder, the coach walked us inside, admonishing me in a voice loud enough for every onlooker to hear.
"You're the one who has to swallow it. I know it feels unfair, but given the situation, you can't come to an event and cause a scene."
"Yes."
Even as I answered, I said to myself:
Like hell.
The coach patted my shoulder with the arm around it, a smile plastered across his face all the while.
Despite the little ugliness in the hotel lobby, the event went off smoothly. After the emcee's opening remarks, the headliners of the first bout — the opener of the three-fight main card — were finally called up.
"Introducing! The Featherweight Champion of Senkai, formerly Japan's strongest promotion! A fighter out of Italy! Raoul 'La Meta' Bisio! And the hottest rookie in the KFC! A fighting prodigy from South Korea! Shin! Yu! Gyem!"
I walked onto the stage to thunderous applause. The moment I took my seat, Raoul Bisio — looking even more gaunt and carved-out in person than he had on video — sat down across from me.
"First, questions for Shin Yugyeom, please."
Here it came.
Among the forest of raised hands, one reporter was picked and fired off the first question.
"Kim Sang-hyuk from Daily Fight News."
"Hello."
"Hello, Shin Yugyeom. This match is known to be your professional debut. How does it feel to face an absurdly strong opponent — a former Japan champion — in your very first fight?"
"It feels like a dream."
I answered without holding anything back.
"It's a rare chance to become the best in a single leap. I'm truly grateful to Raoul Bisio for taking this fight, and to both promotions for building the stage."
"You're the underdog in reality too, and people keep calling you bait. Aren't you afraid?"
"No. I have nothing to lose, and I'm ready to fight whoever they put in front of me — so all I feel is glad."
"No, no. Non ti piacerebbe. (No, no. You wouldn't be pleased at all.)"
Raoul Bisio, evidently having heard the interpretation, snatched the interview with his own microphone raised.
"Perché ti metterò K.O. Ed è un piano semplicissimo, ed è l'unico motivo per cui sono qui. (Because I'm going to knock you out. It's a very simple plan — the only reason I'm here.)"
Before the interpreter could even get a word out, I raised my microphone and answered.
"Quisque consilium habet, donec pugno percussus es. (Everyone has a plan — until they get punched.)"
"Huh?"
"What is that?"
Bewilderment spilled from the officials wearing earpieces, and the room began to stir. Their simultaneous interpreters must have thrown simultaneous errors at that exact moment.
Raoul Bisio, a native Italian, and the interpreter, who'd majored in Italian, went bug-eyed instead.
"È latino? (Is that Latin?)"
Raoul Bisio asked me directly. Despite having just heard an insult, shock and confusion seemed to outweigh it.
"Bisio is asking, 'Is that Latin?' I was a bit thrown off myself, but the language Shin Yugyeom just used is Latin. And since Latin is essentially the origin of Italian, we can understand it — though it's different for us the way you'd experience reading the Samguk Sagi."
"Latin?"
"Where did Latin even come from......?"
"Not even Italian — how does he know Latin? Did he prepare this?"
"What the—"
The murmuring only grew louder, but Raoul Bisio, seemingly taking a liking to encountering an ancient tongue rather than a familiar one, continued in a strangely friendly tone.
"I don't know whether you're playing a character or what, but it's clear you've studied hard. I hope you've prepared just as thoroughly inside the cage, kid. Otherwise you're exactly what people say — nothing but the stepping stone I need on my way to becoming KFC champion."
I shrugged and answered in kind.
"Let's find out who ends up being the stepping stone, old man."
And when the interpreter relayed our entire exchange, the press conference erupted.
Clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap......
"This is insane."
"Shin Yugyeom tore it up."
"The tension between those two is no joke. I can't wait."
"I just hope the fight itself isn't a letdown......"
Even so, the reporters kept raising their hands and hurling questions.
"Kim Gap-min from Rank Ten. Shin Yugyeom, you're no gladiator — how do you know Latin? Like the champion said, did you study it in advance to build a persona?"
"No. I speak the languages used in ancient Greece and Rome."
"I'm sorry?"
"I learned martial arts in that era."
"......!"
Not just the reporters — even the coach and Namrae-hyung smacked their foreheads.
"You're — you're going to drop that gag at a press conference? Seriously?"
"Wow, this guy has fully lost it. He's really doing this, right? Again. The pang-pang thing, or whatever it was — Coupang?"
True to their expectations — the ones who'd dismissed my sincerity as training-floor banter — I didn't let them down, declaring to the reporters with my head held high:
"My base is Pankration."
"That — that concept is f***ing insane......"
With someone murmuring those words, the press conference flipped upside down all over again.
I set my phone down next to the handwraps and the roll of tape.
That's right. Korea versus Japan.
My debut fight would be held here, at Jangchung Gymnasium, a place steeped in history.
When I lifted my head, I could see the hour and minute hands of the clock pointing to six in the evening. At this moment, I sat in the waiting room, hands taped and gloves already on, waiting for my moment of destiny.
A fight that had drawn this much attention — depending on the result, my life could change. That was no different from fighting at the crossroads of life and death in the ancient world.
And so it fueled me all the more.
Then, finally, the door opened.
"We're ready for your entrance."
"Yugyeom."
The coach, who had deliberately kept the mood quiet, called to me. My heart was thundering.
"Yes. Let's go."
I rose to my feet. Passing a poster featuring my own image — a bare torso that looked unimpressive next to an opponent's chiseled musculature, awkwardly holding up a fighting pose — I stepped out of the waiting room.
Reaching the corridor, the roar of the arena drifted faintly into my ears.
"WAAAAAAAHHHHHH......"
The cry of a full four and a half thousand people.
I stood in a place unimaginable just weeks ago — yet it felt unfamiliar. No, if anything it felt cramped, and that was surely because of memories from the distant past.
Back then, I had been utterly alone. Now, surrounded by cameras and staff, the coach and Namrae-hyung had my back.
"Shin Yugyeom, go get it!"
With that feverish shout, a grandiose entrance theme began to pour out.
The OST from the movie Gladiator filled the arena.
The stately cadence of Now We Are Free, carrying an epic saga within it, sent a shiver rippling through my whole body — and at that moment —
"Fighters, enter!"
I took my first step.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
As I emerged from the tunnel, the roar swallowed me whole. From the far-off stands and the crowds packing them to the brim, to the spectators cheering me on vividly right before my eyes — every scrap of the scene wrung out my pounding heart.
"I have returned."
I murmured.
"I have returned."
To the stage......!
It wasn't a field of slaughter, but the DNA born to make crowds erupt was responding all the same.
With my blood boiling like this, I walked through the cool air up to the cage, fully intending to simply climb in.
Then came the shout from behind me.
"You gotta take off your top and your shoes first!"
Only upon hearing the coach's words did I realize I was still wearing my jacket and shoes.
"Ah......"
Only then did I strip off my top and kick off my shoes. Then I hugged the coach.
"I'm off!"
"Fight with confidence!"
The coach thumped my shoulder blades twice, and the moment he pulled away, he held out a dark-colored mouthguard.
I took it into my mouth and bit down hard, then stood before the cutman. Embarrassing as it was to admit, I really needed to train harder and put on some size.
"Arms out!"
I obediently spread both arms.
"Body check! Gloves together!"
After checking my gloves, the cutman smeared Vaseline along the contours of my face. The smell of grease hung in the air.
"That's everything! Good luck in there."
"Thank you."
I bowed my head politely, stepped onto the cold floor and the stairs, and climbed up onto the cage. The moment I stepped inside the steel mesh, I felt like the center of this whole scene. At last, every eye was on me.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH......"
Amid the cheers I did a light lap, arrived at my corner, and loosened up. As I was relaxing my tensed muscles, my opponent's entrance music began and the lighting shifted.
Then, to the same thunderous welcome, my opponent stepped into the cage. I had been watching his highlight reel on the screen, and now I could face the real thing — which felt different yet again from yesterday. He entered the cage seeming twice as large as he had the day before.
The effect of regain.
But.
"Good."
I wasn't afraid of a big, heavy opponent. That was exactly why I hadn't dropped down to Bantamweight even at the coach's urging, accepting the hard cut instead. Featherweight felt comfortable enough.
"An event match between two promotions, jointly hosted by Korea's flagship KFC and Japan's representative Senkai!"
The ring announcer's voice rang out.
"Introducing the fighters now! First, from the blue corner! Standing 173 centimeters, weighing in at 65.3 kilograms! Pang— Pankration base! Making his professional debut! The youngest fighter in the KFC, out of South Korea! The fighting prodigy — Shin! Yu! Gyem!"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
I performed a graceful stage greeting. My past life overlapped onto the moment like déjà vu, and once more a delicious thrill took command of my entire body.
"......And the Senkai Featherweight Champion who graciously accepted the challenge of a KFC rookie! From the red corner! Standing 180 centimeters, 65.5 kilograms! MMA base! Professional record of 18 fights, 15 wins, 3 losses — 2 by KO, 3 by submission, 10 by decision! The Senkai Featherweight Champion, out of Italy! Raoul 'La Meta' Bisio!"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH......"
"And now — let's begin!"
The moment the ring announcer stepped back, the referee came forward.
"Fighters, to the center!"
I walked to the middle of the cage. My opponent came right up to face me as well, and I didn't like the look in his eyes as he gazed down at me. Yesterday it had seemed almost affectionate; today his face said, let's wrap this up and go home.
"No headbutts, no strikes to the groin, no strikes to the back of the head or throat, no soccer kicks to a downed opponent. Protect yourselves at all times, compete fairly, and obey my instructions at all times. Touch gloves now if you wish."
My opponent held out both hands.
Tap.
I brought my two fists up to meet them. Then we each returned to our corners, and at last, the cage door closed.
Clang!
With that sound came the realization that only the two of us remained. From here on, we would fight each other for our very lives — a thought that should have been terrifying, and yet I tingled like a fish returned to water.
"Ready?"
The referee asked each side.
"Ready?"
The instant I nodded —
"Fight!"
I moved forward. My first objective: take the center of the cage.
My opponent, it seemed, had the same idea — he sprang out from the far side and claimed the outside of range. Standing slightly bladed, rear hand tucked to his chin, he pressed forward to push me back, closing to just inside kicking distance.
Against a tall, long-armed opponent, giving up distance or getting shoved back was a losing game — so I drove forward. Simultaneously, his fist came at me.
Crack!
The lead hand.
They didn't call him 'The Blade' for nothing.
His jab was at least twice as fast as my coach's.
So I didn't block it. Even with my chin tucked and the shot landing, the impact was heavy enough to make the back of my skull buzz.
However.
"Did that hurt?"
I asked in Latin.
No matter how fast and precise a jab is, hitting a target that has dropped out of the way can never be faster than moving my own body.
And so — I had stepped my forehead in, absorbing the fist with the hardest bone in the human body.
"You......!"
"I know how to receive a punch."
My opponent stared at me with a face contorted in disbelief.