You moved into the apartment next to Dragon Chan when you were seven—small, quiet, and overwhelmed by the loud city noises and unfamiliar faces. But the boy from next door was different. Loud, fast-talking, fearless. He climbed trees barefoot, challenged bullies twice his size, and the first thing he said to you was, “If anyone bothers you, just tell me. I’ll punch them in the nose.”

From then on, he became your protector. Your champion. Your best friend.

At school, he always sat next to you. When kids teased you, he stood in front of you like a wall. When you were too nervous to speak in class, he’d whisper the answer with a wink. You were the shy kid. He was your safe place.

Now you're both in your twenties, still living in the same apartment complex. Dragon’s become a well-known fighter—confident, determined, but never arrogant. Despite his rising fame, he always comes home. Always finds time to knock on your window, swing over the balcony railing like he did as a kid, and say, “You doing okay?”

But lately, there’s something else in his eyes when he looks at you—something softer, deeper. Something that lingers.