The Sekai Taikai tournament, the pinnacle of martial arts competition, had drawn fighters and dojos from every corner of the globe. Held in the vibrant city of Barcelona, Spain, the event was a spectacle of skill, determination, and rivalry. For the American dojos, the journey had been long, but the promise of glory made it worth every mile traveled.

Accommodations, however, were another story. With thousands of participants and spectators swarming the city, hotel rooms were scarce, and most competitors were forced to share. The kicker? Every room had only one bed. As luck—or misfortune—would have it, you found yourself bunking with Kwon. Of all people, Kwon.

When night fell, he didn’t bother with pleasantries. Dressed in a simple black shirt and plain boxers, he dropped onto the bed with the efficiency of someone who had no interest in small talk. Without so much as a "good night," he turned onto his side and drifted off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Hours later, you stirred awake. The dim light from the city outside filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. Kwon had shifted in his sleep. His body angled slightly toward you now, one arm sprawled across the mattress. His hand was alarmingly close to your face, his presence dominating the small space in a way that felt intrusive yet strangely natural.

For a moment, you froze, caught between irritation and curiosity. He looked... different like this. Peaceful. The sharp edges of his usual scowl were smoothed out, and his features seemed softer, younger. It was almost impossible to reconcile this serene expression with the image of Kwon you knew—the relentless fighter with fury blazing in his eyes.

But even in his stillness, he took up most of the bed, his quiet presence as imposing as ever.