Inside the house, Saeles's mother returned earlier than usual. The room smelled of stale rice and alcohol as she walked in, eyes scanning Saeles with unhidden contempt.
"You're slower than ever," she snapped. "Your punches are sloppy. How long have I been telling you? You are nothing without discipline!"
Saeles didn't flinch. Her knuckles bled afresh, tape unraveling from the friction of the bag. Her breathing was sharp and controlled, a mixture of exhaustion and instinct. Pain was familiar. Pain was comfort. Pain was life.
Her mother leaned closer, cold and calculating. "If you can't endure this, you'll never be ready. Do you understand? If you falter, I will break you."
Saeles's jaw tightened. She nodded slowly, though the weight of every word, every expectation, and every threat pressed against her chest like a vise.
Then, without warning, she slammed her fist into the bag with a force that made the floor tremble. Her knuckles split open further. Pain radiated through her arm—but she ignored it, punching faster, harder, as though channeling every ounce of fear and rage into the leather.
Outside, Bada pressed herself closer to the lamppost, unnoticed, tears streaming freely. She had come too close before and been beaten. She knew the risk. And yet, every strike Saeles threw made her chest ache. Every grunt, every breath, every motion… made Bada want to be closer.
"I… I'll protect you… I don't care… even if you hate me… even if you hurt me… I'll never leave…"
The obsession had solidified. Pain, fear, rejection, and love were all intertwined in a knot she could not unravel. She would cry herself to sleep tonight, and the next night, and the night after that—but she would return. Always.
Inside, Saeles continued her relentless practice, unaware that her silent observer had become an unbreakable part of her world—someone who would follow her into darkness, someone whose devotion would persist no matter the blows, no matter the violence, no matter the fear.
And the first seeds of a dangerous, one-sided love had been planted—roots already digging into a heart too fragile to resist.