My True Value
"Thank you, everyone."
I looked at my parents first.
"I knew you'd come."
My dad, who had been shouting his head off moments ago, spoke with a face full of relief.
"Thank goodness. Honestly, I came prepared to have to leave before it was over."
His expression was still vivid in my mind — the moment he'd asked, 'Where's the fight again?' and I'd answered, 'Jangchung,' and his whole face had changed.
But despite watching me win a miraculous victory to the acclaim of 4,500 spectators who filled the historic, cavernous Jangchung Gymnasium, my parents were far more interested in something else.
"It's true. Everyone online was saying you'd end up in a pool of blood. Your father and I worried ourselves sick."
My mom, clearly having endured some serious sleepless nights, exhaled and pressed a hand to her chest, then glanced sideways at the officials standing around us and added quietly, "……You said this was still a hobby. You can't get seriously hurt."
"A h-hobby?"
Team Leader Hong of KFC, who had also attended my professional contract signing alongside my parents, stammered.
"Yes. I haven't exactly decided to become a fighter for my career yet."
"……"
Team Leader Hong looked utterly lost for words before finally asking, "You're serious?"
"Of course. I'm only sixteen, remember? I love fighting, but there's so much else I want to do."
"Well, sure, but……"
Team Leader Hong looked back and forth between my parents and continued.
"Nobody expected our rookie to beat the Senkai Champion."
"And yet you still put me out there — so I guess the bait really was just bait."
At my cheeky jab, her face flushed red.
"That's not — we believed it could be a competitive fight. A upset no one saw coming, and that upset is what makes it exciting. But winning this one-sidedly? Honestly, no matter how much we favor our own, we never imagined it. Your talent… your son's talent is genius on that level. We truly believe that."
"Thank you."
My dad replied with clear dissatisfaction.
"But we don't find it *fun*. We only watch because Yugyeom enjoys it. No parent anywhere enjoys watching their child get hurt."
My mom added, "No matter how much money he makes."
"Ah……"
Team Leader Hong, about to say something, quietly shut her mouth and turned her gaze to me.
"Your fight purse will be deposited within three days. Bonus included."
"Even without the bonus, that's exceptional pay for a rookie — ranker-level, right? I know perfectly well."
I said the words she was hesitating to say for her.
"Quick on the uptake, aren't you."
Team Leader Hong laughed awkwardly.
"They do say it takes brains to fight well too… And lastly — I get paid to do my job, so let me do it."
She stole a glance at my parents, then asked, "You were throwing out a mass provocation up on the cage earlier — got a particular matchup in mind? It'll obviously have caught the director's eye, so I can't promise you'll get exactly who you want, but I'll do my best."
"Moon……"
"Moon?"
I'd forgotten the name.
"The lightweight ranker, fourth or fifth, something like that."
"Moon Tae-jeong?"
Head Coach Baek asked.
"Ah, right, him."
I bobbed my head.
"Match me with that hyung. Or Ji Hyeon-tae, who's been dying to fight me for ages. Honestly, throw me anyone on the level of the Senkai Champion and I'll cook them up beautifully and eat them whole. I'm not a picky eater."
"……!"
At that swaggering display, everyone's eyes went wide. But it would be a problem if they were shocked by merely *this* level of bravado. In a world where defeat meant your life was no longer your own, a provocation this tame didn't even rank as a whisper.
"What?"
Nobody could answer. With such unexpected reactions stirring up my mischievous side, I turned to the camera that Namra hyung had been using to capture us faithfully all this time — and winked at it.
Countless comments poured in under the fight video on the official KFC channel and the edited backstage story posted on mine. And it didn't stop there — a whole wave of reaction and review content began springing up around it.
Hello everyone, FightGap here! Today we're back with our Weekly Fighter Scout segment, where we introduce the fighters of Korea! And today's guest needs no introduction — the most talked-about fighter on YouTube right now! We're reviewing the debut of Shin Yugyeom, the youngest professional fighter in history. His opponent was none other than Raoul Bisio, the Italian hexagonal champion I introduced last time. Shattering everyone's predictions of an all-time mismatch, we witnessed the shocking sight of Raoul Bisio collapsing one-sidedly in the very first round! Joining me today as guest is former UFC fighter turned broadcaster — and million-subscriber YouTuber — Kim Hyun-dong!
Two of the biggest channels in Korean fight content — a rare pair with over a million subscribers each — sat side by side to break down my fight.
Hello, everyone. Former UFC fighter Kim Hyun-dong here.
Yes, hyung. What did you make of the fight?
I was genuinely stunned. Every so often we come across fighters with eye-catching performances, but the truth is, most of them aren't actually practical.
Right. They burn tons of stamina, or — how should I put it — most of it is just inefficient. Which is why you see so many of them get punished for it.
Exactly. At a certain level, most of that flashy stuff simply stops working… but his opponent was champion-grade. The Senkai Champion is a top-tier fighter even across Asia. A genuinely dangerous man. And this kid was throwing out techniques we almost never dare attempt in MMA — moves that are a jackpot when they land but carry enormous risk — without a hint of hesitation. Which tells me he's that confident in his own timing, his own ability.
Watching it, I was amazed that a fighter this raw — a true fighting animal — came out of our country. I don't think I've seen anything like it even on the international stage.
Right. His striking stance looks wildly free-form at first glance, but watch the movement in each individual moment and it's remarkably natural — optimized for impact. This is not a fighter with weak fundamentals.
Really? I heard he's only been training for three months.
Wait, really? I'd heard he was a once-in-a-generation prodigy, but… three months. Hmm. That's… can that even be possible? It's honestly hard to believe.
Thanks to this compounding effect — content begetting more content — the view counts on my videos surged to an average of 500,000.
My subscriber count had swelled to nearly triple what it was when I first blew up: 144,000.
An email had arrived offering congratulations, along with a request for the shipping address where I'd like my Silver Play Button delivered.
"Unbelievable… a Silver Play Button already."
It still didn't quite feel real, and yet a certain amount of it was sinking in — the sponsorship and appearance requests piling up in my inbox were proof enough.
There was plenty of junk mixed in, but plenty of genuinely appealing offers too. Thanks to beating a champion in my debut, even that Japanese promotion — and the number-one promotion in the entire Asia-Oceania region — were actively courting me.
KFC seemed to have a fair inkling of this as well. Within two days they had deposited a fight purse of five million won — a staggering ten times the standard rookie rate — and reached out immediately afterward.
We rushed into a meeting and locked in your next opponent. If you'll sign a three-fight deal, we'll give you Featherweight Champion Choi Woo-seung. The fight purse will be ten times your last — fifty million won per fight. Accept, and you're going into the main event.
She sounded supremely confident in her terms, but I'd expected exactly this. For someone who'd beaten the Senkai Champion and shot into stardom, being matched against Moon Tae-jeong — a lightweight fourth-ranker one division up with barely any name recognition — was a business move with no downside for them. On the other hand, matching me against Ji Hyeon-tae, a star only just beginning to rise, risked damaging one of their flagship products no matter who won. I knew perfectly well how few attractive cards the promotion actually had to offer, so I didn't hesitate. I boldly called for double.
"I want a hundred million won."
What? Choi Woo-seung — a champion who's successfully defended his belt four times — doesn't even make that much.
"You set the venue size, and if I sell it out, a hundred million."
……!
"If I can't fill it, I'll walk at fifty million, no complaints. That's what it'll take for me to turn down the ONE Championship offer."
ONE offered you a deal?
"Yes. Senkai's interested too."
……You were so meek and polite last time. Look how slick you've gotten already.
"And last time, you paid me according to my YouTube fame without me having to say a word, didn't you?"
What kind of kid is such a slippery little snake?
Naturally. This was an age without legal framework or due process — in the ancient world, being born lowborn and signing the wrong contract meant losing your head in an instant.
"That's a compliment, right?"
Sure is. An annoying one, from where I'm sitting.
Team Leader Hong continued.
Anyway, I'll take it up the chain. If they accept, when would you like the fight? Any date in mind?
"The sooner, the better."
I pressed on.
"If I'm going to fight three more times, I should stay active whenever I'm injury-free — don't you think?"
An attitude like that deserves a fat price tag. Fine. Then we'll schedule around Choi Woo-seung.
"A good opportunity like this? Of course the junior should accommodate the champion."
He'll appreciate that. By the way, where are you right now? School?
"No, I'm at a gym."
You fought yesterday and you're training today?
"I'm not injured anywhere."
Hard worker. You train at the gym run by Head Coach Baek Jun-gyeong, right?
"Usually, yes — but today I came somewhere farther out."
Farther out?
"Yes."
Still in my school uniform, I pushed open the door to the basement gym and answered Team Leader Hong as I stepped inside.
"Moon Tae-jeong runs his own gym here. I figured it'd be nice to train together, maybe even get some sparring in. And since people are so interested in me right now, it wouldn't hurt to film some content while I'm at it."
You and Moon Tae-jeong don't exactly get along, do you?
"Not from my side? I couldn't care less. What's there to fall out over?"
Moving on your own like this is a problem.
"I'm a free agent right now."
That's true, but……
"It's already too late."
I added,
"We've already met."
And sure enough, Moon Tae-jeong stood on the far side of the gym, staring dead at me. His expression was frozen over, cold as steel. I lowered my phone and gave a small, polite bow of my head.
"Good afternoon, sunbaenim."