The stairwell spiraled downward, each step thudding hollow against concrete. The deeper they went, the thicker the air became, damp, metallic, stained with sweat and smoke.
By the time Seojun reached the bottom, the noise hit him. A low roar, hundreds of voices layered into a single pulse, swelling and breaking like waves.
The underground opened up into a cavernous hall, low ceilings crisscrossed with pipes that dripped condensation. People crowded every inch of space, pressed shoulder to shoulder, spilling down narrow walkways, funneling toward the center. And still, more kept pouring in.
All eyes fixed toward the same point, Seojun's eyes followed theirs.
It was a steel caged ring, tall and brutal under the glare of floodlights. Its bars cast jagged shadows across the cracked floor. Inside, two men faced each other, bare fists clenched, sweat already beading on their skin. One was broad, thick-shouldered, his chest scarred with old marks. The other was wiry, leaner.
The crowd hushed, breath catching like a single organism.
Above the cage, a bell swayed. One of the organizers gripped the rope, his hand trembling with anticipation.
DING!
The fighters collided in an instant, and the hall erupted, cheers, curses, money flashing in the air as voices shook the walls.
What is this place…?
Seojun thought about turning back, to climb those stairs and breathing air that didn't stink of smoke and sweat. The cage in the center pulsed in his vision, a blur of fists and sweat flying beneath the lights.
Then Yura's hand brushed his sleeve. She didn't glance at him.
Seojun gulped hard. His body tensed, ready to run out of here immediately.
But his legs refused to move. It was as if his own flesh had turned traitor, dragging him deeper into a world he wanted no part of.
His gaze stay locked on the cage. He couldn't look away.
…Why do I feel so drawn into it?
"OOOH! Did you see that?!" a voice from the commentator bellowed, cutting through the roar. "He's eating him alive!"
The bigger fighter raised his guard, but the leaner man didn't give him a chance to breathe.
He darted in, a hook snapping the jaw, a jab digging into ribs, a kick slicing low against the shin.
The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles, curses, money waving in sweaty hands.
"Too slow, too slow!" the commentator jeered.
The bigger fighter tried to clinch, catching the opponent in a chokehold, but the wiry man slipped out, twisting free. His elbow cracked across the cheekbone with a sound that made half the room wince.
The scarred man stumbled back, spitting blood.
The leaner fighter didn't stop. His fists followed like a drumbeat, each strike faster than the last, piling on pressure until the only thing keeping the bigger man upright was stubborn will.
"Goddamn, look at him go!" the commentator shouted. "He's a machine!"
The steel cage rattled as the broad fighter crashed against it, his guard collapsing under the endless barrage.
THUD! The leaner fighter sweeped him hard, sending him crumpling to the floor.
The hall shook with noise. Voices surged, fists pounded against the cage, money flew through the air like confetti.
The wiry man stood in the center, chest heaving, eyes blazing under the floodlights. He raised a blood-slicked fist and the crowd roared even louder.
"FIGHTING! FIGHTING! FIGHTING!" The crowd chanted in unison.
The commentator's voice boomed over the speakers, buzzing with excitement.
"Ladies and gentlemen! That rookie… he's even deadlier than he looks! If that's how we're starting tonight, then this is going to be a freak of a show!"
The crowd roared back, feeding off the energy.
Seojun barely heard it. His pulse was still pounding from the fight when Yura tugged sharply at his sleeve.
"Come on," she said, already pulling him through the crush of bodies.
"W–wait, where are we—?" Seojun stumbled after her, the noise of the crowd blurring into static in his ears.
The commentator's voice cracked over the roar again.
"But I'm afraid… after that performance, there won't be any more challengers willing to step into the cage tonight! Which means this rookie's reign ends here, he'll have to exit the ring!"
The crowd booed, some jeering, others shouting for more of this rookie.
"WAIT!" Yura's voice cut sharp across the chaos. Heads turned, eyes snapping toward her. She didn't hesitate, dragging Seojun forward until he found himself standing face-to-face with the commentator.
Her smile was radiant, almost too calm for the moment. "Let me introduce you. This is Yoon Seojun, the rising legend."
Legend?
The commentator's brow furrowed. "...Wasn't it Yeon Seojin?"
Yeon Seojin…? I think I've heard of that name before.
Seojun flicked his gaze to Yura, confused.
Yura also looked at him, making eye contact before she turned back to the commentator. "I thought it was that too,"
The commentator scratched his chin, eyes narrowing as he studied Seojun. "Messy hair… casual clothes… quiet…"
Seojun just stared at the commentator, not knowing anything that is happening.
And then, the commentator's eyes lit up. His voice cracked into a shout, echoing through the hall.
"ALRIGHT! Ladies and gentlemen! It looks like we've got a NEW challenger! And not just any challenger," his voice thundered, "—but the rising legend himself, who has finally arrived at our arena tonight, YOON SEOJUN!"
The hall exploded. Stomps, claps, fists against the cage, chants reverberating through the steel beams overhead.
"FIGHTING! FIGHTING! FIGHTING!"
The roar swelled into a frenzy. Seojun felt the ground tremble beneath the stomps, the cage rattling like it might collapse from the weight of the chant.
—Hands closed on him like claws, dragging him forward. The crowd surged forward like a tide, bodies pressing against him from every side.
"W-wait—!" Seojun twisted, trying to push them back, but their strength was overwhelming. Rough palms grabbed his arms, another seized the back of his shirt. He stumbled, almost falling, but the mass kept him upright, forcing him forward.
His eyes darted wildly, landing on Yura. She stood a few steps away, calm amidst the chaos. The crowd's arms and fists blocked her from view, but for a split second, their gazes locked.
"Yura!" His voice cracked. "Wait!"
Hands hooked under his arms. His feet left the floor. Seojun's stomach lurched as he was hoisted above the crowd, carried on their shoulders like a sacrifice.
"STOP! Put me down! I don't—!" His words vanished under the chant.
"FIGHTING! FIGHTING! FIGHTING!"
The crowd's rhythm thundered against his skull, drowning everything else. His arms flailed, legs kicking, but it didn't matter, he was swept in their grip, lifted higher, shoved closer and closer toward the cage.
Floodlights bore down on him. The stench of sweat and iron thickened in his throat.
The bodies surged as one, their arms tossing Seojun forward like a rag doll. His feet slammed against the steel floor of the cage. He stumbled, knees nearly buckling, and the noise around him spiked into a fever pitch.
Across the ring, the rookie, sweat still glistening on his wiry frame, stared at him. For an instant, his fiery expression faltered. His eyes widened, fear flickering in them as if he'd just seen a ghost.
Why… is he afraid of me?
A flash of memory pierced through the noise. The wall of his bedroom, cluttered with old clippings, posters, scraps he never threw away.
Among them, a yellowed newspaper page. He could almost see it now, the grainy photograph of a blurred silhouette hidden in shadow.
YEON SEOJIN blared in bold letters across the top.
"A name that has been rising to legend in the mafia world…" the headline screamed. "...moving directionlessly, like a hurricane, leaving chaos in his wake."
And underneath, words that clawed at his skull:
"Witnesses describe him as lean-built, dressed in casual clothes, messy hair that falls over his eyes, and a man of few words."
Seojun's throat tightened. His gaze fell to his own clothes, the disheveled hair falling into his eyes, the silence that always clung to him.
The newspaper disintegrated under the roar.
"FIGHTING! FIGHTING! FIGHTING!"
His stomach twisted. He wanted to scream that they were wrong, that he was nobody. But the rookie's stare only deepened, stiff with fear, as if the article had stepped off the page and into the cage.
Seojun quickly spun around and bolted for the cage door.
CLANG!
The steel gate slammed shut before he reached it, organizers shoving the bolt down with practiced speed.
Seojun slammed against the bars, palms slapping uselessly against cold iron. "Wait! Stop! This is a big misunderstanding!"
The lock clicked into place.
"God, don't lock it! I'm not—" His voice broke, throat straining as he pounded against the wall. "I am NOT who you all think I am!"
But his protests vanished beneath the frenzy.
"FIGHTING! FIGHTING! FIGHTING!"
The chant swallowed him whole, louder with each stomp and fist against the steel. The rookie turned back slowly, fists trembling at his sides, face caught between dread and determination.
Seojun's heart hammered against his ribs. His hands stayed clamped to the bars, but the voices behind them were merciless, dragging him deeper into a role he never chose.
I'm really not who you think I am…