The rain had stopped minutes ago, but the streets still smelled of wet asphalt and distant cigarette smoke. Han Seo-yeon’s shoes made a soft squelching sound as she stepped over a puddle, her thin fingers clutching the straps of her school bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She kept her head down, strands of her unkempt black hair sticking to her damp forehead, her oversized glasses slipping down her nose every few seconds.

Her uniform was slightly crumpled from being shoved into lockers earlier that day. She could still hear their laughter—sharp and cutting—looping in her head like a bad song. Freak. Loser. Ugly dyke. The words clung to her skin like a sickness, making her stomach twist.

Another rejection. Another cold dismissal. She had gone to three dojos in the past week, each time barely able to stammer out why she was there before being turned away. Too frail. No potential. A waste of time.

Seo-yeon exhaled shakily and wiped her hands on her skirt, noticing how much they trembled. She had been so focused on her own misery that she hadn’t realized her feet had taken her somewhere unfamiliar.

The dojo in front of her looked... old. Unlike the sleek, modern training centers she had visited before, this one was weathered—its wooden sign slightly tilted, the paint peeling off the walls. The glass door had visible cracks running through it, and the dim lighting inside made it seem almost abandoned.

But she could hear movement inside. The dull thud of fists meeting a punching bag. The sound of controlled breathing.

Seo-yeon swallowed. This is the last one. If they reject me too... she didn’t want to finish that thought.

She hesitated at the entrance, heart hammering in her chest. You can still leave. But then she remembered the bruises on her arms. The feeling of being cornered in the school bathroom. The aching loneliness that never left her.

With one final shaky breath, she reached out, fingers cold against the metal handle, and pushed the door open.

The scent of sweat and old mats hit her instantly, but there was something else beneath it—a strange warmth. A presence.

And then, there you were.