The morning air in Noryangjin-dong was heavy with the tang of kimchi and exhaust, a restless pulse that thrummed through the streets as Jang Taesan trudged toward school. His muscles burned from last night's brutal session at Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy, each step a reminder of the strength he was forging, inch by painful inch.
It was his fifth day back in 2008, and the weight of his second chance felt like a fire in his chest—fueled by memories of failure, of Emma Kim's tearful smile, of the life he'd lost and reclaimed. But that fire was tempered by a storm cloud: Min-soo Kang's threat from the alley yesterday, a promise of violence that hung over him like a blade.
The school courtyard buzzed with early arrivals, students clutching coffee cans or hunched over last-minute notes for quizzes. Taesan's eyes swept the crowd, sharp and alert, scanning for Min-soo or his cronies. Sophie Leclerc's warning echoed in his mind: "You're making enemies fast." She wasn't wrong. His sudden academic brilliance—acing math and history with eerie precision—had turned heads, and his defiance in the alley had painted a target on his back. In his past life, he'd have shrunk into the shadows, avoiding conflict at all costs. But the man who'd faced a speeding car to save a child, who'd endured years of regret as a washed-up guard, didn't hide anymore.
In English class, Taesan powered through a vocab quiz, his answers flowing from memories of late-night study sessions in his past life, when he'd clawed for scraps of success as a failing stockbroker. The teacher, Ms. Cho, collected his paper with a raised eyebrow, her voice tinged with surprise. "Impressive work, Jang. Keep this up." Whispers rippled through the room, and Sophie Leclerc, seated two rows over, shot him a glance—sharp, curious, like she was trying to unravel a mystery. Taesan ignored her, but the weight of her stare lingered. He wasn't just rewriting his grades; he was rewriting his existence, and people were noticing.
Lunch brought the usual chaos of the cafeteria—trays clattering, students shouting over each other, the air thick with the scent of gochujang and fried mandoo. Taesan sat alone, picking at a bowl of kimchi jjigae, his mind mapping out his future: ace the CSAT, conquer the stock market, unravel the mystery of his return. But a shadow fell over his table, and he looked up to see Min-soo Kang standing there, alone, his usual smirk replaced by a cold, predatory stare.
"No Leclerc to hide behind today, Jang," Min-soo said, his voice low and venomous, loud enough for nearby tables to hush. "Think you're untouchable 'cause you're good at math? I'm gonna enjoy breaking that smug look off your face."
Taesan set his spoon down, his pulse steady despite the adrenaline spiking through him. In his past life, he'd have mumbled an apology, ducked his head, vanished into the crowd. But the man who'd faced death to save Emma Kim, who'd clawed through years of failure and humiliation, didn't flinch. He stood, meeting Min-soo's gaze head-on, his voice calm but edged with steel. "You talk a lot, Min-soo. But you're all bark. Try me."
The cafeteria went silent, the air crackling with tension. Heads turned, phones slipped out, ready to capture the drama. Min-soo's eyes flickered with surprise, then rage, his face reddening as Taesan's words hit their mark. "Big mouth for a nobody," he growled, stepping closer, fists balled at his sides. "You're gonna regret that."
Before Min-soo could swing, a teacher's voice cut through like a whip. "Kang! Jang! Sit down or you're both in detention!" Ms. Cho stood at the cafeteria entrance, her arms crossed, her glare pinning them in place.
Min-soo's jaw twitched, his fists still clenched, but he leaned in, his voice a hiss only Taesan could hear. "After school, Jang. Back gate. No one's stopping me this time." He turned and stalked off, the crowd parting as whispers erupted in his wake.
Taesan sat, his heart pounding but his resolve unshaken. He wasn't ready for a real fight—his body was still weak, his training at Choi's dojang barely a week old—but running wasn't an option. Min-soo wanted a showdown, and Taesan would face it, even if it meant taking a hit. The memory of his past life—shrinking from every challenge, letting fear dictate his choices—fueled his defiance. He'd rather take a punch than live with regret again.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes, Taesan's answers sharp and precise, drawing more stunned looks from teachers and curious glances from classmates. Sophie caught his eye in the hallway, her expression unreadable, but she didn't approach. Her words from yesterday echoed: "You're not invisible anymore." It was true, and it was dangerous.
After the final bell, Taesan headed to the back gate, his heart thumping like a war drum. The alley was deserted, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and distant street food. Min-soo was already there, leaning against a graffiti-streaked wall, his two lackeys—Ji-hoon and Dong-min—lurking nearby. No crowd this time, no Sophie to intervene. Just Taesan, Min-soo, and the promise of violence.
"Last chance, Jang," Min-soo said, cracking his knuckles, his smirk twisting into something cruel. "Apologize, and maybe I won't mess you up too bad."
Taesan's mind flashed to Master Choi's drills—stance, balance, strike. He wasn't trained, not yet, but he had something Min-soo didn't: the will of a man who'd already lost everything and clawed his way back. "No apologies," he said, his voice calm but firm, his stance shifting instinctively. "Let's get this over with."
Min-soo sneered, lunging with a wild punch aimed at Taesan's face. Taesan sidestepped, clumsy but quick, his body remembering the basics from Choi's training. The punch grazed his shoulder, a sharp sting that woke every nerve. Ji-hoon and Dong-min laughed, but Taesan stayed focused, his eyes locked on Min-soo's movements, watching for the next move.
Another swing came, faster, aimed at his chest. Taesan ducked, his heart racing, and threw a counterpunch—a weak, untrained jab that caught Min-soo's jaw with a dull thud. It wasn't strong, but it was enough to make Min-soo stumble, his eyes wide with shock. The lackeys' laughter died, their smirks replaced by stunned silence.
"You little—" Min-soo roared, charging like a bull, his fist raised for a crushing blow. Taesan braced, knowing he couldn't dodge this one, but before the punch could land, a voice boomed through the alley like thunder.
"Enough!" Master Choi strode in, his grizzled frame filling the narrow space with authority. His eyes burned with a fury that made even Min-soo freeze. "Kang, you and your dogs get lost. Now. Unless you want to explain this to the principal."
Min-soo hesitated, his face red with rage and humiliation, but Choi's glare—hard, unyielding—left no room for defiance. "This isn't over, Jang," he muttered, shoving past Ji-hoon and Dong-min as they scrambled to follow, their footsteps echoing as they fled.
Choi turned to Taesan, his stern face unreadable, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "You've got guts, kid, but you're not ready for a real fight. Lucky I was passing by on my way to the dojang."
Taesan nodded, catching his breath, the sting in his shoulder pulsing. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me," Choi said, his voice gruff but tinged with approval. "You want to stand up to punks like that? Train harder. Next time, you won't need me bailing you out." He jerked his head toward the dojang. "Come on. You're late for class."
At the dojang, Taesan threw himself into training with a ferocity he hadn't felt before. The thwack of kicks against pads echoed like a war cry, his clumsy strikes fueled by the alley's near-miss. Every move was a defiance of his past self—the kid who'd cowered, the man who'd failed. He caught Noah Park's eye across the mat, the lanky teen struggling through his own drills but refusing to quit. Taesan gave him a nod, a silent promise of shared growth, and Noah returned it, a spark of determination in his gaze.
As the session ended, Choi clapped Taesan on the shoulder, his grip firm. "You're starting to move like you mean it, Jang. Keep that fire, but control it. You're not just fighting bullies—you're fighting yourself."
Taesan bowed, his muscles screaming but his spirit soaring. The alley fight, Choi's words, Noah's quiet resolve—they were all pieces of the legend he was building. Walking home under Noryangjin's neon glow, the stars faint above, Taesan felt the sting of his grazed shoulder and the thrill of his first strike. Min-soo was a small battle, a test he'd passed, but bigger fights—exams, markets, mysteries—loomed ahead.
He clenched his fists, his lips curling into a determined grin. I'm not prey anymore. I'm the hunter.