Rain.
It always seemed to rain in Bukcheon District.
The droplets fell in heavy sheets, bouncing off rusted rooftops and neon signs that barely worked anymore. The air smelled like wet concrete, cigarette smoke, and leftover instant noodles from a nearby convenience store. Under the buzzing orange glow of a streetlight, Jin Haneul trudged down the narrow alley, his bag hanging from one strap, shoes soaked through.
He was late again. Not that anyone at home cared—if he could even call that place a home anymore. The walls of his apartment were thin enough to hear arguments from three doors down, and the flickering bulb in his room had given up weeks ago. Still, it was better than being outside, where eyes followed him like wolves tracking prey.
Haneul was weak, and in Bukcheon, weakness was a crime.
Every school in the district had its own crew—hierarchies built on fists and intimidation. The teachers looked the other way. The police stopped showing up after too many reports got "lost." To survive, you either joined someone stronger, or became someone stronger. Haneul was neither.
At 17, he stood barely above average height, his frame thin and fragile. His knuckles were scabbed from trying to fight back, but his punches never landed hard enough to matter. His uniform shirt was always wrinkled, his eyes always tired, and on the left side of his face ran a deep red birthmark that crept from his eye down to his cheek. It made him easy to pick out in a crowd.They called him Spot-Face.A name that stuck since middle school.
He hated it.He hated everything about himself.
As he walked past the convenience store window, his reflection stared back—drenched, bruised, eyes dull like glass. He looked like someone life had already given up on."Maybe it already has," he whispered.
"Yo, Spot-Face!"The voice came from behind him, sharp and mocking.
Haneul didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Min Jae-sung, a senior with hands like bricks and a smile that belonged to a predator. Two others flanked him—laughing, chewing gum, dressed in the same red-trimmed uniform."You running home again, loser? Thought you'd fight back after last time."
Haneul kept walking.He didn't have the energy for another beating. Not tonight.
But then a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Hey! I'm talking to you."
He froze. Every muscle in his body screamed don't do it. But something inside snapped—maybe from all the humiliation, or maybe because even a caged animal bites eventually.He swung.
His fist shot out, connecting with Jae-sung's jaw in a clean hit. For one second, there was silence. The senior's head snapped to the side, eyes wide. Then he grinned—slow, cruel.
"Oh… you finally got some guts."
The next few seconds blurred. A fist hit his stomach. Another struck his ribs. Then a knee.Pain.White-hot, sharp, endless pain.
He fell to the ground, gasping as rain mixed with blood on his lips. His vision pulsed red and black. The laughter above him sounded distant, warped, almost unreal.
"Pathetic," one of them said. "Doesn't even fight back properly."
They left him there—curled on the cold pavement, face pressed against the puddles. His breath came in ragged bursts. His body shook uncontrollably.He hated how familiar it felt.He hated that it didn't even hurt the way it used to.
The sound of rain grew louder. He stared at the dark clouds, his thoughts drifting.Why was he still doing this?Why keep waking up just to fall again?
He thought about his mother's words—back when she was still around."Haneul, even the sky bleeds before the sun rises."She used to say that whenever he cried about being weak.Now, even the sky seemed tired of bleeding.
He closed his eyes, ready to let sleep take him right there on the street. But then—a sound.
A ding.
Soft. Metallic. Too clean for the filthy alley.
He opened his eyes. A faint blue light flickered in front of him, like a hologram made of mist.
[System Initialization Complete.][Welcome, User: Jin Haneul.][Quest Type: Boxing Path.][Tutorial Quest: Land 100 punches before sunrise.][Reward: Boxing Perk – 'Steady Footwork I'][Failure Consequence: System Lockout.]
He stared, too broken to even be surprised. "What… the hell…"
The light pulsed again, sharper this time, as if impatient.
[Timer: 05:42:18 Remaining.]
His breathing slowed. His pulse raced.
Maybe it was a hallucination. Maybe he'd finally lost it.But if it was real…
He pushed himself up, trembling, bones aching. His fists clenched, and for the first time, he didn't just see the reflection of a loser in the puddle. He saw someone angry.Someone desperate enough to fight.
He looked down the alley, where the rain turned the ground into glass.One hundred punches.That's all the quest asked for.No audience. No rules.
He raised his fists, knuckles cracked and raw. The pose felt strange—awkward—but somewhere deep inside, something clicked.
He whispered to himself, voice barely audible under the storm.
"Fine… let's see if I can hit back."
And with the first swing, the night changed.