The soft morning light slipped quietly through the thin curtains of Joon-seok's small room, painting pale rectangles on the floors and walls cluttered with work posters of heroes and fighters— icons from the manga and anime he had cling to during long and lonley nights. The gentle rustling of leaves outside was the only sound breaking the early calm. Despite dragging the weight of exhaustion from another sleepless night, something inside Joon-seok felt different today. A flicker of resolve, a fragile spark that refused to ge snuffed out.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the cracked and sustained ceiling above, the shadows dancing softly from across its surface. The room felt smaller than ever, but he knew that size didn't matter— not when courage was starting to grow inside him. His heart beat steadily, a rhythmic drum reminding him he was still here, still breathing, still capable of change.
His fingers stretched out and flexed, almost testing his own strength for the first time in a while. The school might still be a jungle, and his place in it uncertain. But today, the smallest animal is as stirring.
Careful to be quiet, Joon-seok slipped out of the bed and tiptoed past his mother who was still sleeping in the next room. The resolve in him was a secret layer, one he wasn't ready to share . Strength and vulnerability didn't mix well in this world.
In the kitchen, he ate his breakfast quickly— a simple bowl of rice and kimchi— with barely a taste as his mind raced ahead. Soon enough, he laced up his old sneakers, worn and scuffed from years of endless walking and running away. Those shoes had been silent witness to every one of his battles, and now they held a new purpose.
He caught his reflection in the mirror just before leaving the house. The same quiet uncertain boy met his gaze, but behind those eyes shimmered a cautious fire. Maybe today was different.
Stepping into school hallway, the usual noise crashed around him— clusters of students chatting loudly, laughter bouncing off walls, and sharp eyes watching every move. Seok-Jin's clique was here too, like a dark cloud hanging over the hallways, surveying their territory with a mix of arrogance and cruelty.
But Joon-seok's shoulders felt straighter. His footsteps firmer. Today he was no longer just passing through the background.
The bell rang, cutting sharply through the noise like a start of a race.
In class, Joon-seok tried to focus on the teacher's lecture. His head nodded occasionally, but his mind was preoccupied, judging the flutter of hope with the deep- rooted fear. A plan was forming—a quiet promise to himself— and while fragile, it gave him steady ground.
When the break came, he found himself gravitating towards the gym, the martial arts club was practicing inside, the sharp thuds of fist against pads echoing like music . The smooth, controlled movements of the students moving with power and precision felt like a language spoken in silence.
He stood at the door for a moment, heart pounding as the rhythmic sounds filled his ears. For so long, he had dreamed of being strong, of standing up—not just for survival but to truly live.
Gathering what little courage he had, Joon-seok pushed the door opened and stepped inside. The room seemed to hold his breathe along with him.
"Hey", a calm voice — warm and welcoming. The captain of the martial arts club, tall and with eyes that didn't judge, but understood. "You're here to try out?".
Joon-seok's voice trembled slightly as he spoke. "Yeah. I want to learn".
The captain's grin was encouraging, a pat on the shoulder sealing an unspoken agreement. "Good, everyone starts somewhere."
That small moment, this simple initiation, was more powerful than anything Joon-Seok had felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, he thought, maybe I'm not invisible.
Walking back to class afterward, he felt something unfamiliar— pride. It was fragile, easily crushed, but it was there.
School, however, refused to be kind.
As he moved through the hallway, the air thickened. Seok-jin was there, as usual, surrounded by his pack of bullies. Their eyes scanned the crowd like predators searching for prey.
Joon-seok's stomach tightened, the old familiar fear rising like a tide, but he didn't stop. He kept moving foward, each step measured, resolute. His hands shook a little, but he held his head high.
Seok-Jin's sharp eyes locked on him. A silent challenge passed between them— sharp and cold.
But Joon-seok didn't flinch. He didn't turn and run.
The hallway seemed to hold its breathe. Whispers rippers wuietly, all eyes turning. The tension was electric.
Seok-jin stepped foward, mouth moving taunt, but before he could speak, a clear, firm voice cut through.
"Leave him alone Seok-jin".
Joon-seok turned to see a girl from his class, standing a few feet away. Her eyes were fierce and unyielding—not afraid.
She had been quietly watching, always one of the few who refused to ignore him.
Seok-Jin's grin faltered under her steady gaze. Tension hung in the air for a moment longer before he scoffed and stepped back "Fine.for now"
Relief rushed through Joon-seok's chest, swelling up alongside a strange new feeling—hope.
That moment made him realize something important: he wasn't as alone as he thought. Maybe there were those who saw him, who cared even when it wasn't visible.
That evening at home, Joon-seok practiced the moves the martial arts captain had shown him. His muscles aches in protest and his motions were clumsy, far from graceful. But every jab and block was like laying a brick in a foundation.
There was a framed photo on his desk— Hyd family frozen in happier times—smiling faces reminding him why he had to keep going.
This fight, he understood now, wouldn't be just about physical strength. It would take courage, persistence. An iron that refused to be broken.
He flipped through his worn martial arts book again, feeling a quiet determination settle deep inside.
Ehen sleep finally came, heavy and slow, Joon-seok drifted into dreams tinged not with fear but with the promise of what tomorrow might bring.
He silently vowed to himself—no matter how difficult, no matter the setbacks, he would keep moving foward.
This was just the beginning.
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