Warning: The following scene contains violence, including descriptions of injuries, blood, and death. Please proceed with caution.

 

In contrast to the tranquil calm of Uno’s home, a different sort of disturbance was stirring elsewhere, far from his current location.

 

 

 

The sharp rhythm of leather striking flesh broke through the air.

 

 

 

Thud, thud, thud.

 

 

 

Each blow echoing off the mirrored walls of the private gym.

 

 

 

Sandro’s fists pounded into the heavy bag. The sound was thick and uneven, like a heartbeat gone wild. His breath came out in rough bursts. His jaw tightened, veins standing out along his neck.

 

 

 

Across the room, Geon-u stood motionless. A pair of gloves hung limply from his hands, his reflection wavering faintly under the flickering ring light above. Shadows stretched long over the floor, bending with every tremor of the bag.

 

 

 

When Sandro turned, his gaze cut through the air like a blade. Geon-u’s stomach coiled at once. Days ago, he had been summoned for the same reason. It’s because of that unpleasant exchange with Captain Uno in the Hunter Association.

 

 

 

“Get up,” Sandro’s voice was flat, yet taut with suppressed violence. He flung his own gloves. They struck the gleaming floor at Geon-u’s feet. “We’ll spar.”

 

 

 

Geon-u’s throat tightened. His palms, which were already slick with nervous sweat, refused to grip the leather. He was a creature of submission, knowing protest was a luxury he couldn’t afford. “C-coming,” he managed, the stutter betraying the turmoil behind his quiet gaze.

 

 

 

He stepped onto the mat, the soft squeak beneath his soles sounding impossibly loud.

 

 

 

“Hands up,” Sandro commanded who was already in motion. His stance is a portrait of practiced predatory grace. The first strike was a blur. A sharp jab slammed against Geon-u’s fragile guard. The impact jarred him, a vicious sting that seemed to vibrate his very bones.

 

 

 

He stumbled back with his vision momentarily fractured. Before recovery was possible, the second punch found its mark, hooking deep into his ribs. A starburst of blinding white-hot agony bloomed and spread.

 

 

 

Sandro sneered, a cold curve of his lips. “Pathetic. Still as lanky as ever, Geon-u. Grow a fucking backbone, will ya?”

 

 

 

The words sliced deeper than the fists. Geon-u inhaled sharply. The copper taste of humiliation flooded his mouth. He didn’t reply. Resistance was simply an invitation for greater suffering.

 

 

 

Another hit. It was a clean hook which snapped his head to the side. The world blinked white for a moment. He stumbled, catching himself against the ropes as laughter rose from the side of the room.

 

 

 

Two of Sandro’s lackeys lounged near the weights, watching like it was an entertainment.

 

 

 

“Still can’t even block right, eh?” one jeered, amused by the spectacle of the trembling boy.

 

 

 

Geon-u swallowed the metallic tang of blood, forcing himself upright. Though his limbs shook violently, he raised his guard again. His heart was a frantic drumbeat drowning out the taunts.

 

 

 

Sandro’s grin widened like it was a triumphant, self-satisfied victory. “Come on, Geon-u. Show me something. Are you just going to stand there and wait to break?”

 

 

 

The next strike was a focused brutality, designed to empty the lungs and shatter resolve. As the air fled his body, Geon-u’s vision swam.

 

 

 

Sandro moved in for another hit. Geon-u managed to dodge but the counter-punch he attempted was slow and clumsy which left him unbalanced and exposed.

 

 

 

The lackeys howled scornfully. The laughter cut through Geon-u’s exhaustion that fueled a silent, dark inferno within Geon-u’s mind.

 

 

 

In his mind, he envisioned himself delivering brutal punches to each of them, breaking their bones without mercy. He would wrap battle ropes around their necks until they could no longer breathe. His hands clenched and unclenched involuntarily at the thought. His body tense with suppressed rage. And yet, he could do nothing but watch passively as his mind fed him with violent fantasies. If only he had the strength to carry it out.

 

 

 

Then the maids arrived. Sandro’s father was calling him, saying the important guests had just come. With that, they finally let Geon-u go.

 

 

 

Still aching all over, Geon-u walked down the hallway with his head low. Each step sent a dull throb through his body. When he looked up, his heart skipped. A familiar face was coming from the other end. It was Aris from Team Emerald if he remembered correctly and a friend of Lev’s. She looked annoyed, walking alongside her parents while the maids guided them toward the receiving room.

 

 

 

Their eyes met for a second. Panic flickered in Geon-u’s chest. He quickly averted his gaze, pulled his hoodie higher to hide his face, and slipped past them without a word.

 

 

 

Outside, he headed straight to the nearest pharmacy. The glass door gave a soft chime when he pushed it open. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above him. Their cold glow made everything feel sharper than it should. Thankfully, there weren’t many people inside.

 

 

 

He just wanted to go home, maybe sleep through the day. Anything to keep his parents from seeing him like this.

 

 

 

At the counter, he asked for ointment and muscle pain relief. His voice barely above a whisper. The pharmacist barely glanced at him before turning to get what he needed. A few seconds later, Geon-u paid, pocketed the small paper bag, and headed for the door.

 

 

 

The bell above the entrance rang again as he stepped outside.

 

 

 

“Geon-u?”

 

 

 

He froze. The voice was calm and familiar.

 

 

 

When he turned, Lev was standing a few meters away while holding a bottled drink. The sunlight caught the soft brown of his hair, strands shifting in the breeze. His smile was easy and warm.

 

 

 

“Huh?” Lev tilted his head. His eyes swept over him. “You look… worse than usual.” His voice sounded genuinely concerned.

 

 

 

***

 

 

The two of them ended up at a convenience store nearby. Geon-u and Lev sat side by side on two plastic chairs outside, next to a wide glass window.

 

 

 

It wasn’t the first time Lev had seen him looking like this…bruised, worn out. Yet for some reason, Geon-u didn’t feel embarrassed. Maybe it was because Lev had that kind of calm and unbothered presence. Someone who’s easy to be around.

 

 

 

He twisted the cap off his drink and winced as pain shot through his fingers. His knuckles were swollen. It was split and raw from earlier.

 

 

 

Across from him, Lev sipped his iced coffee, legs casually crossed. There was something effortless in the way he moved. Like he didn’t belong to the same harsh, competitive world they all lived in.

 

 

 

“You were around here?” Geon-u finally asked, his voice was low. He hadn’t meant to speak but the silence between them felt too still.

 

 

 

Lev’s lips curved. His tone was light as he flicked the silver tab of his can. “Mm. I just came from visiting a friend,” he said. “Saw you while we were driving by so I asked him to drop me off.”

 

 

 

“Oh.” Geon-u nodded, unsure how else to respond. He didn’t ask who that friend was and Lev didn’t seem like he intended to explain either.

 

 

 

A comfortable silence followed. The kind that filled itself with the hum of machines and the soft shuffle of people walking by.

 

 

 

Then, Lev spoke again. His tone was thoughtful, almost philosophical. His gaze was fixed on a group of laughing boys across the street.

 

 

 

“You know…” he began, “some humans are given every privilege, yet they treat their fortune like a weapon. They believe power means invincibility.” Lev’s lips curved slightly. “But power is fragile when its foundation relies on nothing but the fear of onlookers.”

 

 

 

Geon-u glanced at him, unsure if Lev was talking about those strangers… or about someone else entirely.

 

 

 

Lev leaned forward, resting his perfect chin lightly on his knuckles. “When they cause pain simply to feel tall, they forget that all it takes is one small moment of weakness… one slip in their guard… for everything to fall apart.” His voice remained mild, almost hypnotic. “Sometimes the world corrects itself. Sometimes, it merely needs a little… reminder.”

 

 

 

There was no heat of malice, only a cold, calm certainty that tightened Geon-u’s stomach.

 

 

 

“Reminders?” he echoed as if tasting the word, finding it strangely potent.

 

 

 

Lev’s soft warm brown eyes which were harmless yet impossibly sharp, lifted to meet his. “Mm.” He smiled. “Every action has a consequence. Some people carry the weight of theirs too lightly. Eventually, gravity catches up.”

 

 

 

His words sank into Geon-u’s skin like carefully placed barbs. His grip on his drink tightened until the plastic straw bent. Suddenly, Sandro’s scornful laughter didn’t just echo. It burned.

 

 

Geon-u missed the brief flash of satisfaction that passed across Lev’s face, which was quickly replaced by the unassuming, tranquil smile that sat so naturally on his features.

 

 

 

Lev looked back toward the street. “You have a kind face, Geon-u. And people mistake kindness for weakness.” He glanced at him again, the corner of his lips tilting up in a silent challenge. “But sometimes, quiet people see the true seams others miss. And that, Geon-u, can be immensely useful.”

 

 

 

“Don’t let them keep stepping on you,” Lev continued softly, setting his can aside. “People only do that when they believe they will get away with it.”

 

 

 

Geon-u was silent. The trauma of his body seemed to gather and concentrate in his hand, warming the forgotten drink.

 

 

 

“Now that I think about it,” Lev said, changing the subject, “the second phase of the examination is coming up. I truly hope we both pass. I heard this one is far more dangerous than the last.” He tilted his head.

 

 

 

They talked about other things after that. Before Geon-u knew it, the afternoon light had begun to fade, painting long shadows on the pavement.

 

 

 

Lev stood first, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “I should get going,” he said with a light smile. “See you around, Geon-u.”

 

 

 

And just like that, he was gone.

 

 

 

The moment the door shut behind him, the seat across from Geon-u felt strangely empty. The faint scent of coffee still lingered in the air, and Lev’s calm and gentle voice kept echoing in his mind.

 

 

 

He sat there for a while, staring at the street without really seeing it. Cars passed. People laughed. Life moved on as if nothing had changed. But something inside him had.

 

 

 

Geon-u attempted to convince himself that it was nothing more than idle chatter. Lev was simply being kind. His words held no more meaning than that. Yet, as much as he tried to shake off their significance, the words lingered, attached to him like a persistent shadow that refused to let go, no matter where he turned.

 

 

 

‘When they cause pain simply to feel tall, they forget that all it takes is one small moment of weakness… one slip in their guard… for everything to fall apart.’

 

 

 

Geon-u’s jaw tightened. The bruise on his ribs pulsed in time with his heartbeat, each throb a dull reminder of Sandro’s fist, of laughter echoing from the sidelines. The humiliation, the helplessness. They burned hotter the more he thought about them.

 

 

 

He’d spent years swallowing his pride, pretending not to hear the insults, pretending not to feel the pain just so his parents could keep their jobs. It had always been easier to endure. To stay quiet.

 

 

 

But now, that silence felt different.

 

 

 

It wasn’t emptiness anymore. It was something sharper. Alive.

 

 

 

Maybe Lev was right. Maybe some people did need reminders.

 

 

 

His fingers curled around his drink. He could almost picture it….Sandro’s smug face twisting. His arrogance stripped away, replaced with fear.

 

 

 

That image alone… it felt good. Too good.