Later that evening, Saeles's mother returned, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. She glared at Saeles, inspecting every bruise and every sign of imperfection.
"You call that training?" she spat. "You're pathetic! Do you think all these years of discipline were for nothing? Every weak punch, every hesitation—do you want to be nothing? Do you understand that weakness will destroy you?"
Saeles didn't respond. Her knuckles bled, and her body ached. But she continued striking the bag, each hit harder, faster, sharper than the last. Pain had become her language, endurance her only companion.
Her mother stepped closer, voice low and venomous. "If you can't endure this, if you can't become perfect, then you will be nothing. And nothing is all you deserve."
Inside, Saeles's fists moved on autopilot, fueled by anger, fear, and desperation. Her mother's words sank deep into her mind, twisting her thoughts, blurring her reality. She didn't notice the small, bruised figure outside, hiding and crying silently. She didn't see Bada's devotion, nor the way her heart ached to protect Saeles despite the repeated beatings.
Bada pressed herself closer to the fence, sobbing, broken, yet unable to move away. She would return tomorrow. She would come back every day. Pain, fear, and rejection had no power over her obsession.
"I… I'll always be here… I'll never leave… no matter what…" Bada whispered through trembling lips.
And inside, Saeles continued her relentless, violent training, unaware that a shadow of devotion had already become a permanent, unshakable part of her life—someone who would follow her into darkness, no matter how much it hurt.