The gym sank into a suffocating hush, every gaze in the crowd drawn to a single point—the ring. There was no bell, no signal to begin. The fight started of its own accord, born in the heavy rhythm of their breathing.
Sunbae tilted his head a fraction, loosened his shoulders, and took the first step forward with quiet resolve. His stare was cold, as if it could pierce straight through his opponent. Nau Rin evened her breath, corrected her stance, and distributed her weight for swift movement. Her fists were tight before her face; her eyes never leaving the faintest shifts in her opponent's shoulders, chest, and arms.
The first strike came without warning. A straight right aimed squarely at her head. Nau Rin raised her guard in time, but the shock of the blow rattled her brain. Right, left, right, left—punches fell in relentless succession, like a torrential downpour. She was driven into the corner. There was no chance to counter, only to defend, the ropes trembling endlessly at her back.
Her thoughts dissolved into chaos. She could no longer read the strikes coming at her, panic tightening its grip as her breath began to stack and stutter. Then a heavy right slipped through her defense and crashed into her cheekbone.
Nau Rin lost her balance and went down on all fours. Her head rang, the world blurring as the noise around her receded into nothing—until all that remained was the thunder of her own ragged breathing in her ears.
But Sunbae merely stood where he was, looking down at her with a cold, detached stare, as if telling her without words, Get up.
Nau Rin planted her hands against the canvas and lingered there, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her heart hammered wildly, as though it might burst from her chest. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself,
"Calm down…"
Oddly enough, that crushing blow had cleared her mind. The turmoil inside her faded away, replaced by a steady, lucid calm. Drawing in a deep breath, she used the ropes for support and rose to her feet.
This time, she faced Sunbae head-on, staring straight into his eyes through the narrow gap between her gloves. When he threw another left, Nau Rin caught it with her shoulder, pivoted in a flash, and slipped out to his side. Before he could turn, she drove a powerful kick into his jaw.
Sunbae reeled and dropped to one knee. Slowly, he turned his head, casting a sideways glance at Nau Rin—rage, dark and blood-red, boiling in his eyes. Grinding his teeth, he forced himself upright and rushed at her with reckless fury.
Nau Rin was pushed back toward the ropes again. She felt the ropes brush against her back and realized there was nowhere left to retreat. But this time, her body moved on instinct—her head slipping automatically, her guard tight and unwavering. A heavy blow slammed into her shoulder, a blunt pain spreading down her arm.
Gritting her teeth, Nau Rin stepped forward instead of back.
In that fleeting instant, an opening appeared—and she seized it.
Right, left—sharp, consecutive strikes, short and precise. Sunbae's head jolted inside his guard, his body wavering as he lost his balance.
But in the very next heartbeat, a brutally powerful punch slammed into her stomach, and Nau Rin was thrown to the canvas once more. The air was torn from her lungs; pain surged through her body like a jolt of electricity, leaving her trembling. She struck her chest hard, trying to force her collapsed lungs to open, gulping desperately for air… and somehow, she rose once more.
Clenching her teeth against the pain, Nau Rin barely managed to steady herself on her shaking legs. Struggling to stay calm, she fought to take short, controlled breaths as she lifted her eyes to her opponent.
Sunbae showed not the slightest sign of fatigue. Instead, he gazed down at her with a predator's chilling satisfaction, like a beast savoring its prey.
Every movement he made was swift and compact, denying her even the smallest chance to counter. No matter how she tried, Nau Rin's punches sliced through nothing but air or thudded uselessly against Sunbae's iron-hard guard. Heavy, blunt blows hammered relentlessly into every one of her weaknesses.
Nau Rin could not land a single counterstrike. Faced with Sunbae's steel-solid defense, she was reduced to utter helplessness. Her vision blurred, and in that critical instant—when Sunbae's next, decisive strike came driving straight toward her head…
The moment the coach burst through the gym doors and caught sight of the ferocious fight unfolding on the ring, he could hardly believe his eyes. His face darkened instantly.
"What on earth is going on here?!" he roared, leaping straight onto the ring and forcefully shoving them apart.
His fury boiled over.
"What do you think you're doing?!" he barked, thrusting Sunbae hard toward the corner and pushing him away.
Planting his hands on his hips, he shot fierce glares back and forth between them. Anger and disbelief were tangled together in his eyes.
"You—both of you—come see me," he ordered, then turned and strode off the ring, his heavy footsteps thudding against the floor.
Nau Rin's body throbbed with pain, but she walked as though nothing were wrong and was the first to pull open the door to the coach's office. Inside, the coach sat behind his desk, gripping a pen tightly in both hands as if trying to steady himself, staring off restlessly. At the sound of the door opening, he snapped his head up and fixed his eyes on her.
"Go Nau Rin," he called her name, sharp and severe.
What do you think you're doing, huh? Fighting—actually fighting? And with a boy, no less! Have you lost your mind?" His voice echoed off the walls, growing louder and harsher with every word.
He rose abruptly from his chair.
"You're only fourteen years old! Your body hasn't even fully developed yet—do you want to end up with broken bones?" he demanded furiously.
Nau Rin said nothing, standing there in silence like a statue. But the coach didn't stop—his harsh words kept flying at her like arrows.
"Why are you even here in the first place? No passion, no purpose—"
Nau Rin, who had been standing with her hands clasped behind her back and her head bowed in apparent remorse, slowly lifted her gaze. She looked straight at her coach and replied in a quiet voice—steady, without a trace of hesitation:
"I came here to learn boxing. Do you really need desire and ambition just to learn?"
"Purpose is what shapes a person," the coach snapped, slamming his hand down on the desk. "And what do you have? You can't even get along with your own teammates."
He paused, drawing a breath. His tone softened slightly, yet the reproach remained.
"The problem isn't them—it's you. Why can't you find a way to coexist with others? Have you even tried?"
Nau Rin shrugged faintly.
"This is just who I am. How am I supposed to become someone I'm not?" she replied.
The coach shook his head in frustration and waved his hand sharply.
"Go. Go home. Talking to you is pointless," he cut her off.
Nau Rin bowed.
"Then I'll come again tomorrow," she said, turning toward the door.
As she reached for the handle, the coach's voice rang out behind her, cold and unforgiving.
"One day, it won't be someone else—you'll be the one who destroys yourself."
She heard the words, but Nau Rin didn't look back. She quietly stepped out and closed the door behind her.
As she made her way toward her locker, a figure suddenly blocked her path. Sunbae stood there, and Nau Rin didn't lower her gaze—she looked straight at him, not taking a single step back.
"You won't get anywhere near me. So don't even bother thinking about it. Know your place," he said, brushing past her and moving on.
Her eyes sharpened coldly, and she threw a glance over her shoulder after him.
"What a pain… what is wrong with these people?" she muttered under her breath and continued walking.
By the time she reached the club's entrance and checked her phone, it had barely passed four o'clock.
Back home, she collapsed onto the sofa, letting her body relax. The sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs—the pain that had haunted every step in the coach's office—had mostly subsided, now only pulsing faintly from time to time.
She turned on the TV, but nothing held her interest. She stared blankly, idly pressing the buttons on the remote as if out of boredom.
In the kitchen, she opened the rice cooker—rice was inside—and checked the fridge, finding a few leftover side dishes. She heated some fried dumplings, eating them silently along with the rice.
By five o'clock, there was nothing left to do. Wandering aimlessly, she entered the storage room, curiously inspecting the old, dusty items scattered around.
In the corner, something under a thick white cloth caught her eye. Her curiosity stirred, and she lifted the cloth to reveal a gleaming metal form—a motorcycle.
Suddenly, she remembered. Her older brother had dragged it home from somewhere one day. Her friend had said it was left in the room.