The dawn light seeped through the smog of Noryangjin-dong, casting a muted glow over the bustling streets as Jang Taesan trudged toward school, his frayed backpack heavier with each step. The coins from yesterday's market gig jangled in his pocket, a small but tangible victory in his quest to build an empire. It was his twelfth day back in 2008, and the fire of his second chance burned fierce, fueled by his future knowledge and the growing strength in his body. But progress came at a cost—sore muscles from Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy, the weight of Min-soo Kang's unresolved threat, and the nagging question of why he'd been sent back after saving Emma Kim. Each step forward felt like a battle, and Taesan was learning that every victory carried a price.
The school courtyard hummed with its usual chaos—students swapping notes, laughing over early-model flip phones, or rushing to cram schools. Taesan's eyes scanned the crowd, alert for Min-soo or his cronies. The bully had been quiet since Master Choi's intervention, but his absence felt like the calm before a storm. Sophie Leclerc's scrutiny, too, was a growing pressure, her sharp eyes catching his every move. Taesan's sudden brilliance—acing quizzes with eerie precision—was drawing attention, and while it was part of his plan, it made him a target.
In Korean literature class, Taesan analyzed a passage from Chunhyangjeon with a depth that left Ms. Lee stunned, her pen pausing mid-note. "Jang, you're full of surprises," she said, her tone a mix of praise and curiosity. Whispers rippled through the room, and Sophie, seated by the window, shot him a glance—her eyes narrowing, as if trying to crack a code. Taesan kept his expression neutral, but her attention was a tightrope he was learning to navigate. Standing out was necessary, but it came with risks he couldn't ignore.
At lunch, the cafeteria was a whirlwind of noise—trays clattering, students shouting over bowls of bibimbap, the air thick with the scent of sesame oil and chili paste. Taesan sat alone, his notebook open to a new page: a plan to scale his market gigs into a steady income stream. Tutoring younger kids, stacking crates, maybe even helping at a PC bang—every won counted toward his savings account, the seed of his future investments. He was halfway through calculating potential earnings when a tray slammed onto the table.
Han Do-jin grinned, his tie as crooked as ever, a stolen piece of Taesan's kimbap already in his mouth. "Yo, Taesan, you're gonna go blind staring at that notebook," he said, chewing loudly. "What's with the secret plans? You running for president or something?"
Taesan closed the notebook, forcing a smirk. "Just trying to keep up with you, slacker." The sight of Do-jin, alive and oblivious to the car crash that loomed in his future, was a bittersweet ache. Taesan couldn't tell him about the markets, the time-travel, or the vow to save him. Not yet.
Do-jin leaned forward, his grin fading into something more serious. "For real, man, you're different. Scary smart, scary focused. Even Min-soo's keeping his distance, and that's wild after that alley stunt. You sure you're okay?"
Taesan met his gaze, the weight of his knowledge pressing hard. "I'm fine," he said, his voice steady. "Just… done being invisible." The words carried more truth than he meant to reveal, and Do-jin's nod was slow, thoughtful.
"Fair enough," Do-jin said, clapping his shoulder. "But don't burn out, yeah? Let's kick the ball around later. You need to chill."
Taesan smiled, but his mind was already racing. Do-jin's faith was a spark, but it came with a cost—the pressure to protect him, to rewrite his fate. Every step toward his empire was a step toward saving those he cared about, and the weight of that responsibility was growing.
After school, Taesan stopped by another market stall, this time helping an elderly woman unload boxes of vegetables for a few thousand won. His muscles protested, still sore from the dojang, but the work was grounding, each coin a brick in his foundation. The woman, her face lined with years of labor, pressed an extra apple into his hand with a smile. "You're a hard worker, kid," she said. "Don't see that much anymore."
Taesan nodded, pocketing the apple, the small gesture warming him despite the ache in his arms. It was another step, another piece of his plan falling into place. But as he left the market, a familiar figure caught his eye—Min-soo Kang, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his cronies nowhere in sight. His gaze locked onto Taesan, cold and calculating, a predator biding his time.
Taesan's pulse quickened, but he kept walking, his posture steady. Min-soo didn't move, didn't speak, but the message was clear: I'm watching you. The bully's silence was more unsettling than his threats, and Taesan's grip on his backpack tightened. He wasn't ready for another fight—not yet—but he wouldn't run.
At Choi's Taekwondo & Hapkido Academy that evening, Taesan channeled his unease into training, the dojang's thwack of kicks and shouts of effort a release for his tension. Master Choi's voice boomed as Taesan practiced a taekwondo front kick, his form sharper, the movement flowing from his core. "Jang! Good! Now add power!" Choi barked, his stern face betraying a flicker of pride.
Across the mat, Noah Park worked through a hapkido wrist lock, his lanky frame steadier, his focus razor-sharp. Taesan caught his eye, offering a nod, and Noah returned it, their bond growing with each session. Taesan's mind flashed to Noah's future—a tech titan who'd reshape industries. He's not there yet, but he's mine to guide.
Choi paired Taesan with Hye-jun for sparring, the wiry senior grinning as they squared off. "Let's see if you've got more than kicks today, Jang," Hye-jun teased, lunging with a quick jab.
Taesan blocked, his reflexes honed by days of drills, and countered with a side kick that caught Hye-jun's thigh, earning a surprised grunt. "Getting cocky, huh?" Hye-jun said, laughing as he rubbed his leg. The spar continued, each move a testament to Taesan's growing confidence, but the effort left him drained, his body screaming for rest.
As the session ended, Noah approached, wiping his brow. "You're a machine, Taesan," he said, his shy smile genuine. "I'm barely keeping up."
"You're doing better than you think," Taesan said, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "Just keep showing up. That's the real fight."
Noah's eyes lit up, a flicker of determination breaking through. "Thanks, man. Means a lot."
Choi's voice cut through. "Jang! Park! Save the bonding for after class!" They bowed, sharing a quick laugh, and Taesan felt the pieces of his plan solidifying—Do-jin's trust, Noah's potential, Choi's guidance, the coins in his pocket.
Walking home under Noryangjin's neon glow, the stars faint against the city's electric haze, Taesan felt the cost of his progress—the ache in his body, the pressure of Min-soo's silent threat, the weight of his knowledge. Every step forward demanded sacrifice, but he was ready to pay it. The CSAT, the markets, the mystery of his return—they were battles he'd win, no matter the price.
He clenched his fists, his lips curling into a determined grin. Progress isn't free. But I'll pay whatever it takes.