The fluorescent lights of Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy buzzed like a restless swarm, casting sharp shadows across the worn, sweat-stained mats as Jang Taesan tightened the belt of his borrowed dobok. The air was thick with the musky scent of effort—sweat, polished wood, and the faint tang of liniment—mingling with the rhythmic thwack of kicks against pads that pulsed like a heartbeat through the dojang. It was his sixth day back in 2008, and the adrenaline from his alley clash with Min-soo Kang still simmered in his veins, a raw, electric current that refused to fade. Master Choi's last-second intervention had saved him from a brutal beatdown, but it also ignited a fierce resolve in Taesan's chest: he'd never need saving again.
He glanced at the other students, their stances sharp and disciplined, moving with a fluidity he envied. His teenage body was a traitor—weak, untested, a far cry from the man who'd faced down drunken brawlers as a security guard in his past life. Every muscle ached from his first few training sessions, a constant reminder of how far he had to climb. But that man's will burned through him now, fueled by memories of failure—failed trades, mocking colleagues, a life reduced to guarding empty buildings—and the promise of a second chance. Min-soo's grazing punch, Sophie Leclerc's sharp warnings, Emma Kim's shy smile, Noah Park's quiet potential—they were all threads in the tapestry of his new life, and he was determined to weave them into something unbreakable.
Master Choi stood at the center of the mat, his grizzled frame radiating authority, his weathered face stern as he barked orders. "Jang! Stance wider! You're not here to dance, you're here to fight!" His voice sliced through the dojang, sharp and unyielding, and Taesan adjusted his footing, sweat beading on his brow, stinging his eyes. The drills were relentless—front kicks, roundhouses, basic blocks—each move exposing his inexperience. His legs wobbled, his arms trembled, but every clumsy strike was a rebellion against the weak kid he'd been, the kid who'd cowered under Min-soo's taunts in his past life.
Across the mat, Noah Park struggled through his own drills, his lanky frame awkward but dogged, his face flushed with effort. Taesan caught his eye, offering a quick nod, a silent acknowledgment of their shared grind. Noah returned it, a flicker of camaraderie passing between them. In his past life, Taesan had heard whispers of Noah's meteoric rise—a tech genius who'd built a startup that challenged Korea's biggest conglomerates. Now, seeing him here, raw and unpolished, Taesan saw a spark of potential, a future ally waiting to be shaped. I'll need people like him, he thought, his mind already mapping the empire he'd build.
"Focus!" Choi's voice snapped Taesan back, his glare pinning him like a spotlight. The instructor strode over, demonstrating a hapkido wrist lock with brutal precision, his hands moving like a machine as he twisted a senior student's arm, forcing a quick tap-out. "It's not about strength," Choi said, his voice carrying to every corner of the dojang. "It's about leverage. Control. Make your opponent's power work against them. Understand?"
Taesan nodded, mesmerized. The technique was practical, elegant—a way to turn Min-soo's size and aggression into a liability. When Choi called for volunteers, Taesan stepped forward, ignoring the ache in his muscles and the nervous flutter in his gut. Choi paired him with Hye-jun, a wiry senior student with a cocky smirk. "Don't cry when I twist your arm, newbie," Hye-jun teased, cracking his knuckles for effect.
Taesan didn't respond, his focus narrowing to a pinpoint. Hye-jun grabbed his wrist, mimicking an attack, and Taesan followed Choi's instructions—step, pivot, twist. His movements were sloppy, his grip shaky, but he felt the shift in balance, the moment Hye-jun's smirk faltered as his arm bent back at an unnatural angle. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. Hye-jun tapped out, rubbing his wrist with a grudging nod. "Not bad for a beginner. You're quick."
Choi's eyes glinted with approval, though his face remained stern. "You're learning, Jang. That fire in you—it's good. But it's raw. Sharpen it with technique, or it'll burn you out." He clapped Taesan's shoulder, the gesture heavy with expectation. "Again!"
The rest of the session was a blur of sweat and strain, Taesan pushing his body beyond its limits. Each kick, each block, felt like a spark igniting something new—not just resolve, but power. The hapkido lock, the rhythm of the kicks, the discipline of the dojang—it was awakening a strength he'd never tapped in his past life, a strength he'd need to face Min-soo, the CSAT, and the corporate sharks waiting in his future. For the first time, he felt his teenage body starting to align with the man he'd become—the man who'd died saving Emma Kim, who'd clawed his way back to rewrite his fate.
As the session ended, students dispersed, their laughter and groans echoing as they changed out of their doboks. Noah lingered, wiping his face with a towel, his breaths heavy but his eyes bright with determination. "You're intense, man," he said, his shy smile breaking through the exhaustion. "Most new guys would've bailed after a session like that."
Taesan grinned, catching his breath, his dobok clinging to his sweat-soaked skin. "Got no choice," he said, keeping it vague but honest. "Too much at stake." Noah's potential, Sophie's curiosity, Min-soo's threats—they were all pieces of the puzzle he was assembling, a foundation for the legend he'd build.
Noah tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his gaze. "Stake like what? You're not just here for kicks, are you?"
Taesan hesitated, his mind flashing to the truth he couldn't share—his death, his rebirth, the future knowledge burning in his brain. "Just… stuff," he said, shrugging. "School, exams, the usual. What about you? Why're you here?"
Noah scratched the back of his neck, looking away, his voice quieter. "Dunno. Tired of being the weak kid, I guess. My dad's always on my case—says I need to toughen up, be a man. Plus, I got pushed around one too many times at school."
Taesan's jaw tightened, a flicker of empathy sparking. He knew that feeling too well—the sting of being invisible, powerless. "You're not weak," he said, clapping Noah's shoulder. "You're here, putting in the work. That's more than most. Something tells me you're gonna be a beast one day."
Noah blinked, caught off guard, then laughed softly, a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. "We'll see, I guess. Thanks, Taesan."
As they parted, Master Choi's voice boomed from the mat. "Jang! Park! Less talking, more training tomorrow!" Taesan bowed, Noah following with an awkward dip, and they shared a quick grin before heading out.
Walking home under Noryangjin-dong's neon haze, the stars faint against the city's electric glow, Taesan felt the ache in his muscles and the thrill of his awakening. The hapkido lock, Noah's quiet resolve, Choi's gruff approval—they were sparks of a fire that was starting to blaze. Min-soo was just the beginning; the CSAT, the stock market, the mystery of his return—they were battles waiting to be won. But as he walked, a flicker of unease stirred. His return to 2008 wasn't random—he felt it in his bones. Saving Emma had triggered something, a force he didn't understand, and the questions gnawed at him: Why me? Why now?
He pushed the thoughts down, focusing on the fire in his chest. The dojang had given him more than sore muscles—it had given him a taste of control, a glimpse of the man he could become. He glanced at the stars, their faint light a challenge, and clenched his fists, his lips curling into a determined grin.
Min-soo's just a stepping stone. I'm building something bigger—something unstoppable.