It had been over a month since Kai began his training under Nam. The countryside air had gotten colder, mornings started to bite into his skin, and the calluses on his palms were no longer fresh wounds, but badges. Kai had kept going, pushing his body and mind through pain that would make most grown men collapse.
One particular morning, after the intense training had ended and Nam had gone to town, Kai found himself cleaning the old storage room in his grandfather's house. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that pierced through broken wooden slats. As he moved an old trunk aside, a leather-bound journal slipped from the shelf above and thudded onto the floor.
Kai picked it up, confused.
It was old. Real old. The cover was cracked, the pages yellowed. But the handwriting inside was unmistakable. His grandfather's.
Kai sat on the dusty floor, flipping through pages filled with diagrams, philosophies, strange notes about pressure points, breathing techniques, and martial forms unlike anything Nam had taught him. Some entries were encoded, and some spoke about forbidden techniques—dangerous ones, capable of disabling, paralyzing, or worse.
One phrase was underlined multiple times:
"A technique is only as moral as the hand that wields it."
Kai's fingers trembled. "So... this was who you really were, Grandpa?" There were also hints, vague entries about hidden allies, forgotten students, and enemies who never forgave.
He wasn't just a kind, quiet farmer.
He was a warrior who had walked through shadows.
Kai closed the journal, chest pounding. A sense of clarity hit him—he had inherited more than blood
Later that day, while walking through the market street to buy basic groceries, Kai noticed a group of rough-looking guys loitering at a corner. The same ones who used to hang around the school gates, preying on weak students.
They spotted him. One of them smirked and stepped forward. "Look what the wind blew back. Didn't you try to kill yourself, freak?"
Kai didn't respond. He had no time for clowns.
But the others surrounded him, seven in total. One grabbed his shoulder. "Answer when you're spoken to."
The moment he touched him, something switched in Kai.
Boom. Elbow to the face. Crack. A low sweep took another off his feet. He pivoted, grabbed a wrist, twisted it until the guy screamed, and pushed him into two others.
Three tried to rush him at once. Kai ducked, countered, and drove his knuckles into one's diaphragm. Another fell from a brutal palm strike to the nose. Blood splattered the concrete.
Within seconds, ten men lay scattered on the ground. Six weren't even conscious. A few were moaning. One tried crawling away, mumbling something about a demon.
Kai exhaled. Calm. His hands
Nam heard about it before the sun could fully set. Someone had called him in a panic. "Master Nam, you have to come to the clinic. Something happened. It's... bad."
Nam arrived, stepping through sterile white corridors until he reached the emergency ward. Bodies laid out. Groaning. Nurses applying bandages. One doctor looked confused, holding an x-ray in disbelief.
But what stopped Nam cold were the injuries.
One had a precisely ruptured pressure point, causing instant paralysis in his right leg. Another had a nerve-strike pattern only Nam's master ever used. The techniques... they were unmistakable. Too precise. Too controlled. Too deadly.
Nam gripped the curtain divider for balance.
"That's... his style. His exact methods. But how...?" His voice cracked.
He felt both pride... and fear.
"What monster have I awakened?" he whispered.
At Nam's house, the evening meal was just being prepared. Miko and Eva were talking softly at the dining table while Seo sat on the stairs, tapping away at his phone.
The door creaked. Kai walked in, drenched in sweat, shirt torn a little, a small cut under his jaw. He looked calm. Too calm.
Seo glanced from upstairs.
"What? Did you go play hero again? Think you're better than all of us now? Just because Dad is giving you extra attention?"
Kai didn't reply. He just walked toward the bathroom.
Miko turned sharply. "Seo, stop. That's not fair. He's been through a lot. Don't act like a brat."
Seo scoffed. "Tch. Whatever."
Just then, Nam entered the house, closing the door behind him a little harder than usual. The children turned.
His face looked... shaken.
He sat down in the living room, still wearing his clinic pass.
"Dad?" Eva asked. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Nam slowly looked up. "It was Kai."
"What?" all three said in unison.
Nam nodded slowly. "He was attacked by ten guys. Beat them all down. Six of them are in critical condition. One has a dislocated spine."
Silence.
"And he used techniques I haven't even taught him. My master's techniques... Your grandfather's." He looked at the floor. "Exact form. Exact strikes."
Eva covered her mouth in shock.
Seo's eyes widened.
Miko whispered, "That sweet boy...?"
Nam nodded slowly. "He's strong. In ways I didn't expect. But it also means he carries the burden of that strength now. It's no longer just training. It's real."
That night, back at the old wooden house, Kai sat alone on the porch.
The wind rustled the leaves gently. Crickets sang somewhere in the grass. Above him, the moon hung full and bright, scattering silver beams across the floorboards.
He held a small photo of his mother in one hand. In the other, his grandfather's rusted dog tag.
He stared at the stars.
"Mom… I'm getting stronger. I promise I'll make them pay."
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
"We've been watching. You're not alone. Come find us when you're ready."
Kai blinked. Sat up straighter.
"Who the hell are you...?"
The wind picked up slightly, and the trees swayed like they had secrets.
Who were they?
Were they connected to his grandfather's past?
Was this what that journal had hinted at—hidden allies, forgotten students?
He stood up slowly, the wooden porch creaking under his weight. The moon bathed the yard in pale light, but the shadows suddenly felt thicker. He looked around, instincts sharp. Was someone watching now?
Then a rustle.
Behind the barn.
Kai stepped quietly down the stairs. His feet moved like a whisper. As he turned the corner—nothing. Just an empty field stretching into the forest.
But something told him... that message wasn't a bluff.
Scene Shift – Mai's Friend Group
"I'm telling you, it's so tragic. Did you see Rem's interview? He said he tried to protect Mai from Kai.""Yeah," one of the girls giggled. "He called him obsessed. Creepy even.""Didn't he like… stalk her for a while?"
Mai sat with them, legs crossed neatly, sipping from a strawberry milk carton like nothing mattered. Her eyes were hollow, but her lips curled into a soft, practiced smile.
"I mean... it's not exactly false," she said. "He was always staring at me. It got kind of... pathetic."
One of the girls leaned in. "But you were so sweet to him, Mai. I thought he was your friend."
Mai shrugged. "It was just a game. I didn't think he'd take it seriously. Besides—wasn't it your idea to bet how long it would take before he confessed?"
They laughed.
"Two weeks!""No, three! I said three!""Ugh, and the way he used to look at you, like you were some goddess… It was so desperate."
Mai smiled again. But this time... it twitched. Her fingers tightened around the carton until it crumpled.
"Well," she said, voice cold, "I guess he finally realized he was never in our league."
That earned another round of cruel laughter.
But when they looked away, Mai's gaze dropped to her phone—an old message from Kai still unread.
"Thanks for talking to me today. It meant a lot."
She stared at it for a long moment.
Then quietly deleted it.
One of the girls noticed her go quiet. "Hey... you okay?"
Mai snapped back into her fake smile. "Totally. Just thinking how peaceful school's been without him around."
In her mind, though... it wasn't peaceful at all.
She remembered the day Kai had stood outside the school gates, holding something behind his back. A hand-drawn sketch of her. He'd never even gotten to give it to her. Instead, he overheard their laughter—the bet, the mocking. How she called him a freak to his face after acting so kind in private.
She saw the look in his eyes then.
Like something inside him had broken.
And now he was gone.
But she'd never tell anyone that. Not the part she played in it.
She would rather wear the crown of cruelty than show weakness in front of these vultures.
Even if it rotted her alive from the inside.