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THE CAR ROLLED TO A STOP OUTSIDE KWON'S APARTMENT COMPLEX. The once-vibrant chatter of the ride home had long since faded into silence. Being the last to be dropped off, the boy took a moment, his hand resting on the seatbelt buckle, hesitant to leave the brief sanctuary of the vehicle.

Sensei Kim glanced at him from the driver's seat, her sharp gaze softened just slightly, though her posture remained as rigid as ever. "Kwon," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Before you go... do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

Kwon's head tilted slightly, his brows knitting together. He hadn't expected her to bring it up, but then again, Kim Da-eun seemed to know everything. His grandmother had been in the hospital for weeks now, her condition a constant weight on his mind. The idea of facing her frailty right now, after everything, felt unbearable.

"No, it's fine," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'll go tomorrow. I just... I need to crash for a bit. That's all."

Kim studied him for a moment longer, her gaze piercing yet not unkind. "It's not weakness to want to rest," she said, her tone unusually understanding. "But remember, time waits for no one, Jae-sung. Make sure you don't waste what little you have with her."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. There was a tightness in his chest he didn't quite know how to shake.

The woman leaned back in her seat, shifting the conversation. "Your training," she began, her tone sharpening. "Almost one week from now, we'll be in Barcelona. The Sekai Taikai is not just another tournament—it's the tournament. This is your chance to prove yourself. To start over."

"I know," Kwon said quietly, his jaw tightening. "I won't fail."

"You can't afford to fail," she corrected, her voice like steel. "This is bigger than you. Bigger than all of us. You've worked hard, but the question is whether you can focus. Eliminate distractions."

Her words hung heavy in the air. Kwon swallowed, knowing exactly what she meant. He nodded, though his mind wandered briefly to y/n—the thought of her made his resolve waver just slightly. He quickly shoved it down.

Sensei Kim's voice softened just a fraction, breaking through his thoughts. "Life isn't always about winning, but it is about knowing what you care for and protecting it. Whatever—or whoever—that may be."

Kwon's brows furrowed as he looked at her, confused by the cryptic turn of her advice. "What are you talking about?"

Da-eun didn't answer directly, her expression giving nothing away. "Figure it out," she said simply, gesturing toward the door. "Now go. Rest. Train. And focus."

Kwon hesitated, her words gnawing at the edges of his mind, but he nodded. "Yes, Sensei," he said softly, slipping out of the car and into the night.

As he walked toward his building, the weight of her advice—and the unspoken message—lingered. He didn't fully understand what she meant, but he knew it wasn't just about the tournament. Glancing back briefly, he caught her watching him through the rearview mirror before she pulled away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

The boy's footsteps were heavy as he climbed the stairs to his apartment building. Every muscle in his body ached from the trek, the endless hours in the car, and the emotional weight of the day. Yet, as much as he felt like collapsing, his mind kept drifting to her—to a particular y/h/c-haired girl. The kiss. Her laugh. The way she'd told him not to be late for tutoring tomorrow...

A faint smile tugged at his lips, unbidden. For all his overthinking—wondering if she regretted it, if she hated him now—her words had given him an anchor of normalcy. Even if they hadn't directly addressed what happened, her tone was steady, reassuring. She'd be there, she'd said. That was good enough.

But his smile faded as his thoughts shifted to his grandmother. The Sekai Taikai wasn't just a tournament. It was everything—a chance at financial security, access to top-tier healthcare for the old woman, and a better future. Failure wasn't an option. It couldn't be.

The metallic clang of the stairwell door jolted him back to the present as he rounded the corner to his floor. His apartment was just a few steps away when he froze, the blood draining from his face.

"What the hell is your problem, old man?" a girl's voice yelled, cutting through the stillness like a knife. His chest tightened as he recognized it instantly.

Yoo-mi.

His stomach twisted in dread as he sprinted toward his apartment. When he reached the door, the scene before him hit him like a punch to the gut.

His father, a broad, slumped figure with a bottle dangling from one hand, stood in the doorway, his face red and blotchy, eyes unfocused. Opposite him was Yoo-mi, her small frame shaking with a mix of fear and defiance as she held out a plastic bag filled with medicine.

"I'm just here to help! What is wrong with you?" she snapped, her voice trembling but firm.

His father sneered, swaying slightly. "Help? You think I need help from some brat?" His words slurred together as he leaned forward aggressively, making the girl flinch. "You think you're better than me, huh? Coming here, acting like you're some kind of saint."

"Stop it!" Kwon's voice rang out as he shoved past the girl, putting himself between the drunk man and his ex. His heart pounded as he met his father's bloodshot eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

The older man stumbled back a step, his sneer deepening. "What am I doing? What are you doing, huh? Bringing kids to my door like I'm some charity case?"

The boy clenched his fists, his voice low and controlled. "She's just dropping off meds. For halmoni. That's it."

"For halmoni," his father mimicked mockingly, then his expression twisted into something darker. "You think that old hag needs these? What she needs is to stop wasting space and money we don't have!"

Yoo-mi gasped, her face pale, but Kwon stayed rooted, his body tense. "Don't talk about her like that," he said, his voice dangerously calm.

The man barked out a harsh laugh. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? You're just like her—useless. Running around with your karate crap, acting like you're gonna fix everything. Newsflash, boy, you can't. You'll fail, just like you fail at everything else. You are your mother's son anyway..."

Kwon's jaw tightened, his nails digging into his palms. He wouldn't give his father the satisfaction of a reaction. "Yoo-mi, go," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the man.

The girl hesitated. "But—"

"Go," he repeated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

As she turned to leave, Kwon's father reached for the bag of medicines in her hand. With a sudden, violent motion, he grabbed it and hurled it at his son, the contents spilling across the floor.

"There's your precious meds, you ungrateful little shit," the man spat before slamming the door shut with a thunderous crash.

The silence that followed was deafening. The boy stood frozen for a moment, staring at the closed door. His chest heaved with restrained emotion, his hands trembling at his sides.

He crouched slowly, gathering the bottles scattered across the floor. Thankfully, none of the contents had spilled, but his hands were trembling slightly from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He didn't bother to look up as faux-blonde started speaking, her tone sharp and unapologetic.

"Your dad's a real piece of shit, huh?" she sneered, folding her arms. "Who the hell does he think he is, talking to me like that?"

Kwon let out a soft scoff, biting back the retort bubbling on his tongue. Typical Yoo-mi—always more concerned about her bruised ego than anyone else's problems. He didn't have the energy to argue, not when he still needed her help. "Just... forget about it," he muttered, his voice low.

"Forget about it?" Yoo-mi repeated, her voice dripping with incredulity. "I brought this crap for your grandma, and that idiot acts like I owe him something? Unbelievable." 

"He's lucky I didn't slap him into next week. I swear, some people don't know how to show gratitude." Kwon didn't respond. He simply finished gathering the scattered items and stood, clutching the bag tightly.

She paused, then added with a smirk, "How is she, by the way?"

Kwon glanced up briefly, his brows furrowing. "Shouldn't you know?" he scoffed. "You're the one checking on the doctors when I'm not there."

The girl rolled her eyes. "I wasn't talking about your grandma."

His stomach twisted as her meaning hit him like a truck. He froze mid-motion, his jaw tightening.

She smirked, enjoying his reaction. "I meant your little tutoring partner."

Kwon didn't respond immediately, focusing instead on the bottles in his hands. He could feel Yoo-mi's gaze boring into him, and it made his skin crawl.

"Aw, come on," she teased, her tone turning saccharine. "Don't tell me you're going all shy now. I heard from Mimi that things got... cozy during the trip. Adorable."

"It's none of your business," Kwon said quietly, his voice strained.

"Oh, but it is," she said, stepping closer. Her presence was suffocating, her tone dripping with mockery. "If I'm helping you through a rough patch... don't you think I deserve something in return?"

Kwon turned to face her, his jaw tight. "I don't have time for this, Yoo-mi."

"Uh-huh," Yoo-mi drawled, her eyes glinting with mischief. She stepped closer, her voice dropping into a low, suggestive tone. "You're so sweet, Kwon. Always playing the hero. It's cute, really." She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. His body went rigid, and he immediately stepped back, putting distance between them.

"Don't," he said firmly, his voice laced with warning.

Yoo-mi tilted her head, her smile turning predatory. "What's wrong? Afraid your little princess might get jealous?"

Kwon's jaw clenched. "This isn't about her."

"Oh, but it is, isn't it?" She shot back, her tone mocking. "You think she can give you what you need? What you deserve? Face it, Kwon. Girls like her don't stick around. They're all talk and no action."

"Shut up," Kwon snapped, his voice rising. "You don't know anything about her. So just... stop."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his reaction. "Defensive, are we?" she taunted. "You're cute when you're all worked up. But let me tell you something—people like you don't get fairytales. You don't get happy endings. And she? She's not sticking around for your mess."

"That's enough," Kwon said firmly, his voice low and dangerous.

But Yoo-mi wasn't done. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "She can't give you what I can. You know that, don't you? You'll always be second-guessing, wondering when she's going to leave. But me?" She placed a hand lightly on his chest. 

Kwon pushed her hand away, his eyes blazing. "Back off, Yoo-mi. Whatever you think this is, it's not happening."

She smirked, undeterred by his rejection. "Suit yourself," she said with a shrug. "But don't come crying to me when she walks away just like everybody else."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he refused to let it show. He kept his expression blank, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Yoo-mi took a step back, clearly satisfied with her handiwork. "Well," she said breezily, "I'll see you at school tomorrow. Don't be late, okay?" She winked at him before turning on her heel and sauntering off, her laughter echoing down the stairwell.

Kwon stood there for a moment, his chest heaving with suppressed anger and frustration. Her words echoed in his mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. But he shook them off, shoving the bottles into the bag and heading inside. He didn't have time for her games. 

Not now. Not ever.

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