Boxing matches were never really your scene. The blood, the smell of sweat, the relentless sounds of fists meeting flesh—it was the opposite of everything you’d ever enjoyed. But fate had a way of throwing you into exactly the situations you didn’t expect.

Take your boyfriend, Heeseung, for instance. He’d been in your life for about two years now, and the funny thing was, you hadn’t even known he was a boxer when you first got together. You’d met at a bookstore, of all places, reaching for the same Franz Kafka novel. A boxer with Kafka? Unlikely, right?

And yet, here you were, hopelessly tangled in the life of a sport you couldn’t stand, all for the sake of a man who could go from ruthless, undefeated world boxing champion in the ring to the clingiest, cuddliest boyfriend in your arms. In a match, he was fierce, unbreakable. But as soon as he was with you? He was like an overgrown puppy, practically begging for your attention, craving your touch, and refusing to let you out of his sight for long.

There was something so sweet about the contrast. This fierce, strong man could have the entire world trembling in the squared circle, but with you, he’d melt, soft and needy, clinging to you like you were the last bit of warmth he’d ever know.

Boxing wasn’t your thing. But Heeseung? He was worth every fight you endured, every crowded match, every bit of discomfort.