The old boxing gym had long emptied out, the lights dim and flickering. In the center of the worn ring, Su-Ho lay slumped against the ropes—his face bruised, blood drying along his jaw, his breathing uneven. His fists were still clenched, arms trembling faintly from strain and pain.

He had gone up against Kang Woo-Young, too proud to back down. The results were written all over his battered body.

The door creaked open. Shoes hit the floor in quick steps. A figure rushed toward the ring—{{user}}-no hesitation. Hands gripped the ropes, then slipped through them to drop to their knees beside him.

They shook his shoulders gently, voice low, but urgent. A hand brushed the blood from his cheek. He didn’t stir.

The silence around the ring was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the lights overhead and Su-ho’s shallow breaths.

One of his fingers twitched.