Location: Malyeon Middle School – After School, Behind the Art Building
The evening sun dipped low behind the school, casting long shadows across the back courtyard. It was the usual place—the kind of forgotten corner where trouble brewed and no teacher ever looked twice. Daniel's shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat from earlier drills. His bag hung heavy over his shoulder, but not as heavy as the silence surrounding him.
He turned the corner.
And there he was.
Logan Lee.
Tall. Thick. Still with that twisted grin that screamed he was bored and looking for a toy to break.
Daniel stopped.
The air thickened.
"Hey, piggy," Logan drawled, his voice low and mocking. "Where you going, huh? You think you can just walk home without saying hello to your hyung?"
Daniel didn't answer.
Not anymore.
Not like before.
There was a time when he would shrink away, tremble, try to laugh it off or apologize for existing. But this Daniel wasn't the same. Two months of relentless training under his father had done something to him—not just to his body, but to his spine.
Logan's grin vanished. "What's this? No bow? No sorry, hyung? You ignoring me now, you little pig?"
Daniel exhaled.
Slowly, he dropped his bag.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
He remembered what his father said just that morning:
"You don't have to win every fight, son. But you fight so they remember that hitting you comes with a price."
"I'm not scared of you anymore, Logan."
That froze Logan for a beat. Then—laughter. Loud. Ridiculous.
"You're not scared?" Logan repeated, stepping forward. His bulk was intimidating, even at 184cm. Thick arms. Beefy neck. He cracked his knuckles, then his neck. "You still look like a joke to me."
He swung without warning—a wild, looping hook meant to crush Daniel like every time before.
But Daniel moved.
Barely.
Instinct.
WHISH—
The punch missed his nose by an inch.
Daniel's breath caught, then came back controlled.
He felt his heart pounding. Not from fear—but from the rush.
Logan snarled. "What—"
THUD.
Daniel's fist slammed into Logan's gut.
He felt the shock run up his arm.
It hurt—his knuckles felt raw—but Logan staggered.
He actually staggered.
Eyes wide.
"The hell..."
Daniel didn't wait. He wasn't trained in martial arts yet. No footwork, no combos, no angles. Just pure, raw instinct and brutal speed.
He rushed in, throwing his shoulder into Logan's chest.
BAM!
Logan grunted, pushed back two steps.
That was enough.
The look in Logan's eyes changed.
He wasn't laughing anymore.
"You wanna die today?" he hissed.
Logan grabbed Daniel by the shirt, lifting him with brute strength. Daniel felt his feet leave the ground. The world tilted.
CRASH!
Daniel's back slammed into the ground.
Pain bloomed in his spine. His head rang.
But he gritted his teeth, forced his legs to move.
No staying down.
He twisted, kicked at Logan's knee.
Logan shouted, stumbling back.
Daniel rolled and stood.
Shaking. Bruised. But standing.
A crowd had formed by now.
Students whispered. Shocked.
This wasn't the usual Daniel Park.
Blood dripped from the corner of Daniel's mouth.
Logan charged again—this time with full force.
Daniel clenched his jaw. No thinking.
Just move.
Duck. Counter.
His fist found Logan's cheek this time.
CRACK!
Spit flew from Logan's mouth.
Another punch. This time to the ribs.
THUMP.
Logan tried to clinch him, tried to wrestle, but Daniel kept moving. Pushing off with his legs. His speed. That's what he had now.
No technique.
But he could take a hit.
And now… he could give one back.
They were both breathing heavy now.
Logan's scowl was twitching—confusion, frustration, rage. All mashed together.
"You freak," Logan panted. "What did you do... get possessed?!"
Daniel wiped blood from his lip.
"No," he muttered. "I trained."
Then, for the first time ever, Daniel walked away from Logan Lee.
He didn't need to win.
He just needed to survive—and hurt Logan enough to make him think twice.
And judging from Logan's stunned silence and the way his hand clutched his side… he had done just that.
From a classroom window above, someone had been watching.
A shadowed figure with sharp eyes and a faint smirk.
"Interesting," the figure murmured. "The piglet's finally learning to bite."
--
Not from fear. Not anymore.
He stood still in the corner of the school rooftop, wind brushing against his soaked uniform, heavy with sweat, spit, and blood—Logan's and his. The faint sting on his cheek lingered where Logan's knuckles had connected. A dull pain radiated from his ribs, but it wasn't what Daniel focused on.
He was still standing.
That was new.
He didn't win. But for the first time... he wasn't completely helpless.
And it shook him.
--
Daniel and his father walk home, daniel was silent. Daniel limped slightly beside his towering father, who hadn't said a word since he appeared after the fight.
The moment Logan's lackeys had dragged him off, the MC—the reincarnated Ian, now Sangcheol Park—stepped out of the shadows like a ghost. His face unreadable. Camouflage pants scuffed with dust, a cigarette hanging from his lip, unlit. That towering 6'8" frame—chiseled with monstrous physique—had been still as a statue.
Now, the two were home.
Daniel stood in the middle of the apartment's living room, fidgeting.
"…You mad?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sangcheol flicked the lighter. A flame sparked. He brought it to his cigarette. Inhaled. Let the smoke swirl in the air.
"Why would I be mad?" his father asked, tone low and calm. "You fought."
Daniel blinked. "But I got beat—"
"You fought back."
He turned to face him. "You stood your ground, Daniel."
A pause.
"But it's not enough."
That sentence hit harder than Logan's punches.
Daniel's shoulders drooped. "I know…"
"But you showed something today." Sangcheol stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Guts. Heart. That's something I can build on."
Daniel's eyes widened. "Does that mean…?"
"You want to get stronger?"
Daniel clenched his fists. "Yes. Stronger than Logan. Stronger than anyone who looks down on me."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Sangcheol's lips.
"Good. Because I've been waiting for you to ask."
One Week Later — The First Step
Their backyard had been cleared. No grass. Just dirt, worn and scarred from years of disuse. Now it bore new life: sweat, grunts, and pain.
"KYOKUSHIN Karate," Sangcheol said, drawing a large circle in the dirt with the tip of a wooden bokken. "Bare-knuckle, full-contact. You don't block with your hands. You take the hit. You condition the body. You crush the will of your opponent by standing even after they think you should fall."
Daniel stood at attention, dressed in a plain white t-shirts, sweat already forming on his brow.
Sangcheol pointed to the center of the circle. "This is your dojo now. Enter it, and you accept pain. No complaints."
Daniel stepped in.
"Good. Now punch."
"What?"
"Punch. Again. And again. One thousand times. Each one clean. Straight. With intent."
Daniel hesitated but obeyed.
"One!"
Thwack.
"Two!"
Thwack.
"Three!"
His knuckles stung. Sweat trickled down his back. The afternoon sun bore down on him.
Sangcheol watched with a calculating gaze, arms crossed. His body loomed like a shadow. He wasn't just a father. He was a weapon in human skin. Daniel felt like a mouse training under a lion.
Three Months In.
Daniel was down 14 kilos.
Bruises littered his arms and legs. His knuckles were scabbed, hardened. He no longer gasped after a sprint. He no longer collapsed after pushups. His body had started to change—shoulders broader, stomach tighter, arms thicker.
Still, Sangcheol was never satisfied.
"Technique is nothing without control," he barked as Daniel stumbled during a leg sweep. "What good is power if it's wasted?"
Daniel grunted, breath ragged. "Sorry…"
"Again."
Whoosh. Slam.
Daniel landed hard on the mat, but this time rolled with the fall. Basic Aikido—the second art his father introduced him to—was about redirection. Grace. Control. Sangcheol drilled into him the philosophy.
"You don't always have to fight force with force. Let them overcommit. Let them fall on their own sword."
At first Daniel struggled. His instincts were messy, wild. But then something strange happened.
During a sparring session, Sangcheol used a spinning arm throw. The moment Daniel saw it, something clicked.
Without being taught, he repeated it.
Not perfectly—but damn near close.
Sangcheol's eyes narrowed.
"…Did you just copy that move?"
Daniel blinked. "I—I just saw how your hips turned and your center of gravity shifted. I dunno. My body just… did it."
A long silence passed.
Sangcheol walked over and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"You have it."
Daniel tilted his head. "Have what?"
"…A talent I hoped you'd awaken."
His eyes gleamed—not with pride, but realization.
"You can copy any move you see. I knew it. That wasn't just manga fiction… You're the real deal."
From then on, training intensified.
Every movement Sangcheol demonstrated—Daniel picked up faster. Punches, stances, breathing techniques. His father began mixing in moves from various martial arts: Judo locks, Muay Thai knees, Wing Chun chain punches.
Daniel copied them all.
He didn't master them—but he learned them. Fast. Like muscle memory engraved from sight.
But his father didn't let him get cocky.
"Copying isn't mastering," he warned. "Your body can imitate. But mastery comes from repetition. Control."
Still, the spark had ignited.
Daniel no longer looked in the mirror and saw a weakling. His posture changed. His eyes sharpened. His frame, once soft and round, now carried muscle like carved stone. At 79kg, he stood taller— tall as 6'4, and his presence grew. His voice carried weight. His footsteps had intent.
His mother wept one night, quietly.
"You look like your father did when we first met," she whispered, brushing his short hair. "But fiercer… more alive."
Daniel smiled.
"I think… I'm starting to understand what it means to be strong."
Sangcheol's Thoughts (MC POV)
He watched from the balcony, cigarette lit.
His son—no, his new son—was doing kata drills in the yard under the moonlight. Sweat poured off him, yet he moved with focus. Fire.
Sangcheol remembered the old Lookism plot. The weak, bullied Daniel who only found strength after switching bodies.
But this Daniel… he was building his strength the hard way.
"I changed his fate," he murmured to himself. "This time… he'll stand on his own."
He blew out a stream of smoke and stared at the stars.
This is only the beginning.