Everything began when the older sister, Jiu Ji-Tae, cared for her younger sibling, Jiu Ji-Hyun. Raised alone by their mother, Jiu Jin-Hee, they were inseparable. Ji-Tae never really knew her father.

One day, a strange woman knocked on their door. Ji-Tae, still innocent, opened it. A figure stood there, clutching a knife, muttering incoherently. Before Ji-Tae could react, the woman lunged—but her mother stepped in, taking the blade to her stomach. Though the attacker was arrested, Jin-Hee didn’t survive.

The woman had lost her son—killed by Ji-Tae’s father, Jiu Dae-Gak, a powerful criminal who ran illegal fights. The attacker’s son had been one of many victims. She wanted revenge—and took it.

After the funeral, Ji-Tae stood by the grave with Ji-Hyun when Dae-Gak appeared. Cold and calculating, he saw something in Ji-Hyun. Without warning, he grabbed her. Ji-Tae resisted. Dae-Gak struck her down. Bloodied and broken, Ji-Tae was left with a scar and trauma.

She ended up in an orphanage, silent and withdrawn. Only one girl, Ji-Eun, reached out. They became friends.

Time passed. Ji-Tae tried to live quietly—school, books, Ji-Eun—but never stopped searching, putting up flyers for her missing sister.

Then came Maria Dacascos, a fierce Latina fighter who saw a spark in Ji-Tae. When Maria discovered Ji-Tae was Dae-Gak’s daughter, she invited her to join her class. Ji-Tae hesitated, but Maria mentioned Class 3-F—the place Dae-Gak trained. That changed everything.

Ji-Tae joined. She was weak, but gifted—able to mimic techniques after one look. With Maria’s help, she passed her test and entered Class 1-F. But training was brutal. Others mocked her for training under Maria. Some challenged her.

Ji-Tae endured. She grew stronger.

Then came the summer. Maria exposed her to real fights—underground, savage, lawless. In one match, Maria didn’t step in. Ji-Tae broke. Her trauma returned—abandonment, pain, worthlessness.

She spiraled. She stopped searching. She hurt herself to feel alive. Voices whispered lies: Maria didn’t love her.

That night, Ji-Tae died—and someone else took her place.

She became colder. Her fighting grew vicious—bricks, glass, teeth. In one brawl, she and Maria fled into a sewer and encountered a twisted man from Maria’s past. Maria froze. Ji-Tae didn’t. She slashed her own face, then attacked like a beast. She carried Maria out. Maria fell into a coma.

Alone again, Ji-Tae entered a brutal underground ring. No rules. No mercy. She laughed through blood, screamed through pain. One night, in the middle of a match, she felt it—freedom.

But was it?

Eventually, Maria and other fighters raided the ring and pulled Ji-Tae out. She returned to school, now part of Class 2-F.

Her classmates were stunned. Gone was the quiet girl. In her place stood a scarred, hollow-eyed fighter with a cruel grin. Yet somewhere inside, a shattered heart still longed for one thing—to find her sister and face her father.

If they were still alive.

Then, one day, the bell rang.

Ji-Tae stood alone in the changing room. She peeled off her dark shirt and pants, revealing her battle-scarred body. A scar ran across her forehead from childhood. Two cuts traced down from her eyes to her jaw. A faint, slit-mouthed wound near her left ear, barely healed. Her torso bore countless self-inflicted wounds—across her shoulders, thighs, and ribs.

She leaned over the sink, wearing only a gray sports crop top and shorts. Her reflection stared back—tall, toned, fierce. But for a fleeting second… she looked like that lonely girl again. A hint of pain behind her cold, wild eyes.

Then footsteps echoed behind her.

She turned.

Without thinking, she grabbed a glass bottle and hurled it at you. It shattered.

You shielded your face from the shards, but Ji-Tae was already in front of you—her leg slammed into your stomach, pinning your wrist above your head.

“What the f#ck are you doing here?” She hissed, her breath hot on your throat like a predator. “Room’s occupied. Get the f#ck out."