People Who Know Me
Meanwhile, the senior fighters from the gym's athlete division, who had been watching all of this, stood gaping with their mouths wide open before finally coming to their senses.
"No way! The Master just got handled like that, that easily?"
"Seriously. The Master is insanely strong too! When we spar with him, he just plays with us."
"Is sixteen supposed to be able to do this? What is he, been fighting since he was born?"
At that moment—
"He's only been training for three months."
Kang Ji-won, who had been cleverly capturing every reaction on camera, answered with a proud look on her face. Why was she the one bragging?
"See? That's exactly what I'm saying, that it doesn't make any sense!"
"I've hit a wall..."
"Don't despair, take it as motivation! Train hard enough and sometimes you just suddenly improve like that."
Having rallied the athlete division, Moon Tae-jeong added with a glance at me.
"Anyway, if Woo-seung's got to prepare after watching this, he's going to have a headache."
Woo-seung-hyung, he says.
"Woo-seung! Do you know the champion?"
Kang Ji-won asked on my behalf.
"Of course. The industry's small—domestic fighters pretty much all know each other. He's the new face here."
As Moon Tae-jeong answered, Kang Ji-won pressed on relentlessly.
"Have you ever sparred with Choi Woo-seung yourself?"
"Twice, but it's been a while."
"Who do you think would have won back then?"
"Hmm."
Perhaps because the camera was rolling, Moon Tae-jeong fell into serious thought.
"From what I remember, Woo-seung-hyung is genuinely strong— that's how he's defended the title four times. But this guy's style is like a dokkaebi's, impossible to pin down."
He muttered while looking at me, then finally reached his conclusion.
"Still, Woo-seung-hyung's the real deal. In sparring it might be different, but in an actual fight..."
"Oh, come on, really?"
"I mean, I can't say for sure..."
"Aren't you just scoring him high because you're close?"
"...Maybe."
"Then could you at least tell us his weaknesses?"
Kang Ji-won pulled an unexpectedly cute aegyo routine, but Moon Tae-jeong's expression didn't shift an inch.
"It's not that I can't tell you—there just aren't any."
"I'm sorry, what?"
When Kang Ji-won echoed him in disbelief, Moon Tae-jeong elaborated.
"That hyung is good at everything. But this kid has far more weapons at his disposal. Which makes him a genuinely tricky style to deal with."
"Oh no."
Kang Ji-won turned her head to me with wide, rabbit-like eyes.
I had perked my ears up at the whole conversation too, though I didn't put much stock in it.
"It's only when you startle a tricky opponent that it's satisfying."
Moon Tae-jeong's mouth twisted. But he couldn't sneer at me or curse me out anymore.
***
By the time I finished grueling training and stepped outside, night had already fallen over the streets.
"Good work today. It's late, so I'll walk you home."
At my words, Kang Ji-won grew wary.
"You're not going to demand your day's wages for the escorting, are you?"
"What am I, a street thug?"
"It's just so far, you know."
"......."
We started walking side by side.
"This is seriously unbelievable."
Kang Ji-won blurted it out of nowhere, then looked at me with fresh eyes and went on.
"The more I think about it, the more amazing it is. How does a person change overnight like that?"
"What? Did I get too handsome?"
It was a hundred percent a joke.
Why isn't she answering? No way... could it be...
Just as I was about to turn my head, I caught sight of three guys our age standing by the roadside, leaning against a parked motorcycle and smoking. Tattoos peeking out, no less.
"Whoa, he's actually so cool."
"Oh my god."
"You scared?"
When I asked, Kang Ji-won shook her head.
"No."
Then she added:
"With you next to me, I'm not scared at all. It's strange."
"Strange, huh."
So this is why guys puff up their shoulders when there's a girl beside them.
Of course, mine was no bluff. Assuming those three had never trained or had only picked up some sloppy basics, I could put them down in fifteen seconds. I'd be generous in saying it took thirty.
One with a single straight, sweep two aside with a quick combination, and for the last one—evade, jab, take him down, sink the choke...
Even while the simulation ran in my head, I averted my eyes the instant ours nearly met.
"Huh? Are they coming over here?"
"......."
Just as Kang Ji-won said, one of the three approached me.
"Uh, excuse me?"
The guy asked loudly, reeking of cigarette smoke.
"Are you 'Kratistos'? Right?"
My past life's name—and my YouTube channel's. Hearing it pronounced in Korea, it sounded a little cringe-worthy.
"Fighter Shin Yugyeom!"
"Yes."
Even as I answered, I worried for a moment that one of them might be the lunatic who'd emailed me asking for a death match. But—
"I'm a huge fan! Wow, you're seriously good-looking."
"Oh, it really is Shin Yugyeom? Could we take a picture with you?"
"Is the lady next to you your girlfriend? She's pretty."
"Thank you."
I responded while happily granting their requests. I stayed friendly, but kept my voice and tone firm and clear, holding the initiative.
"Hand me your phone."
The cigarette smell was unpleasant, but taking photos posed no real problem. The only moment I reflexively dropped an arm was when one of them tried to sling his over my shoulder without permission.
Once the photos were done and we set off down the road again, Kang Ji-won spoke up.
"I honestly thought they were picking a fight with us. I nearly had a heart attack."
"So did I."
"But what if someone actually does try to start something? It feels like that happens a lot to fight athletes, for some reason. The world's full of weirdos."
"If it ever came to that..."
I replied as if it were nothing.
"I'd subdue them without hurting them. You just have to break their will to fight, don't you?"
It was simpler than most people would imagine.
***
The morning after the little episode that fame had brought me, I ran my way to school.
Perhaps because it was early, no passersby recognized me on the way. But the closer we got to the destination, the more students from my school looked at me, murmuring or offering greetings.
"Yugyeom, hey."
"You're awesome, hyung!"
I was fairly popular among the boys. The girls didn't approach me directly—instead, whenever I opened my locker or dug through my desk drawer in the classroom, I'd find a gift or a letter two or three times a week.
The categories ranged from simple messages of encouragement to full confessions of crushes, but as a warrior who had once monopolized the love of maidens and ladies alike in my past life, I didn't so much as blink.
Kang Ji-won, however, knew nothing of that history, and every time I read a letter, she'd narrow her eyes from the next desk over and toss in a commentary.
"When a man gets famous, he needs to watch out for women. Got it?"
You tiny thing. What would you know about it.
"Heroes fall to beauty, as they say."
"Even Lü Bu got done in by a beauty trap, didn't he?"
"That's a novel."
"Ugh."
"What are you, my mom? Even my actual mom doesn't meddle this much..."
I found her so adorable that I teased her on purpose. And I made sure to thank her, too.
"By the way, the video turned out great thanks to your filming."
Indeed, the content I'd edited and uploaded late the night before was already drawing comments.
***
Choi Woo-seung, who had just finished scrolling through the comments on the video Shin Yugyeom had posted to his own channel, slipped his phone into his inner pocket. Beyond his sunglasses, the officials and press corps gathered in the convention hall came into view.
"Now, we will begin the press conference."
The event host continued.
"If you have questions for fighter Choi Woo-seung, please raise your hands and we will bring you a microphone."
A forest of hands shot up all at once, and one among them was given the floor.
"This is Kim Sang-hyuk of Daily Fight News. You're about to face the rookie Shin Yugyeom—what are your thoughts?"
Choi Woo-seung brought the microphone to his lips.
"Watching the younger guys climb up is a joyful thing."
"There's been a lot of talk about Shin Yugyeom receiving a title shot in only his second professional fight. Do you have any complaints about that? Some criticize the promotion for building a generational-change narrative using a champion who's defended his title four times in two years as bait."
"I believe generational change is inevitable. That's how I came up, too."
"So you're saying it doesn't bother you at all?"
"No. I'm the one receiving challenges no matter what, after all. I'd worry more about the contenders, wouldn't you think? They're the ones who feel like they've been cut in line."
"Someone like Ji Hyeon-tae?"
"Hyeon-tae would be one of them, yes."
"But you already beat Ji Hyeon-tae once, didn't you?"
"And that was already last year, so he probably believes he'd win now. That's why he's calling for a rematch."
"Do you agree?"
"I'd have to see how much he's grown before I could say. More than anything, right now I want to focus on the opponent directly in front of me."
Choi Woo-seung turned his head and cast a sidelong glance at Shin Yugyeom, seated at the table across from him.
"As I always have, I'll burn this fight like it's the last of my life. And even so, if Shin Yugyeom can beat me and take the belt—this time, I intend to retire."
"......."
The room erupted.
"Retirement?"
"He's retiring?"
"Wait, what—"
But Choi Woo-seung announced it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"It's something I've thought about for a long time—like an office worker carrying a resignation letter in his coat pocket. Getting hit, getting hurt, losing—none of that shames me in the slightest. But as a father, I want to stay healthy and by my children's side for a long, long time. Once I've fulfilled a champion's duty, I'll move on to work where I no longer have to take a professional fighter's fist with my head."
***
As for me, the story about his family struck me more deeply than his promise to retire if he lost to me. Right now, my parents and my little sister were my whole world—and he was a family man with wife and children who had stepped onto the sand of the arena.
"Fighter Shin Yugyeom, please share your thoughts as the title fight approaches."
And so I answered the reporter's question.
"I respect him—a head of a household, and a champion. I consider it an honor, and I'll give my absolute best in the fight tomorrow."
Up to that point, it was all genuine respect. But I saw no need to honor the sort of weak, hedging words spoken before a bout, so I opened my mouth again.
"And since you say you no longer wish to remain in the arena—I'll send you home before the first round is over."
"What did he say?"
"What is it now—"
"No way. Is he... prophesying right now?"
Having thrown the press row into an uproar once again, I paid it no mind and added:
"If I can help it, so that no harm comes to his head—not by knockout, but by submission. I will prove my worth with my own hands and take the belt."