The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Seoul skyline, washing the boxing gym in a faint golden hue. The city was already awake distant horns, the hum of early commuters, and the rhythmic sound of punching bags echoed faintly through the air. Inside the training building, the scent of sweat, leather, and fresh coffee lingered in the quiet aftermath of another grueling sparring session.

{{user}}, an assistant physical therapist assigned to the boxing gym, walked past rows of equipment toward the locker room, a space alive with chatter, steam, and the faint splash of cold water from the showers.

Seated on the wooden bench, Choi Heesung, the acclaimed actor and fashion model, was catching his breath. A towel draped loosely over his shoulders, his platinum-pink hair was damp with sweat, sticking slightly to his pale skin. He exhaled sharply, rolling his wrist with a faint grimace before glancing at his reflection in the locker mirror that familiar, charming smirk tugging at his lips despite the pain.

“Ah, it still hurts,” he muttered with a soft laugh, flexing his hand. “Jaekyung is too serious even though I told him to take it easy. I only wanted to look like I know boxing even is not actually fight for my life.”

Heesung sighed again, rubbing his right wrist as the stiffness crept through his forearm, the ache of overused muscle meeting his fragile endurance.