Chapter 4: Gloves On, Ego Off
Alright, so here I am—standing in the middle of the gym, staring down at a boxing ring like it's some kind of gladiator arena. The lights are bright enough to make me squint, and the smell of sweat and leather is basically punching me in the face. Seriously, this place reeks of old fights and bruised egos.
Queen's sitting off to the side, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. She's watching me like I'm some kind of science experiment, probably still surprised I managed to outrun half the school's female population earlier without breaking a sweat. Honestly, I don't blame her.
Moon Young is already in the ring, arms crossed, smirking like she's the queen of the world—or at least the queen of this fight. She says, "I thought you might have been ravaged by the girls already."
I chuckle, rolling my shoulders and stretching like a pro warm-up montage. "Nah, I don't think that's happening. I'm pretty confident in my escape skills."
She raises an eyebrow, that smirk getting wider. "Really? I'd love to see those skills in action."
Her eyes flicker with a mix of curiosity and challenge. Then she throws me a warning: "And are you sure about this? I don't want your male ego getting bruised."
Yeah, I get it. She's seen guys like me before—overconfident, tough talkers who melt after a punch or two. But here's the thing—I'm not one of those guys.
I decide to have a little fun with it. "I don't mind showing you after school," I say with a grin, "but for now, let's have a good time."
Then, just to make sure she knows I'm serious, I drop the bomb.
"I'll warn you, though. I'm very experienced. Black belts in Karate, Taekwondo, Muay Thai, and Judo. I've fought boxers, weapon users—you name it. I've been training since I was five."
The air shifts. Moon Young's confident smirk flickers, just for a second. I see it.
She thought this was just some casual spar, but now she knows—it's game on. This fight isn't just a warm-up for me. It's serious business.
She shakes off the doubt, cracking her knuckles like a pro. "Thanks for the warning," she says, voice steady. "I'm ready."
Then I pull off my shirt.
And everything changes.
Moon Young's eyes widen. Not that I'm complaining.
Because yeah, under this uniform is the result of years of discipline and training. Every muscle is tight, battle-hardened—not just for show. Arms, shoulders, abs—this isn't some pretty Instagram flex. It's power.
I catch Moon Young staring, which is kind of hilarious. She quickly wipes the drool off the corner of her mouth and mutters, Stay professional!
Queen, from the sidelines, snorts softly. "Don't lose your composure already," she mutters.
Moon Young clears her throat, shakes off the distraction, and rolls her shoulders like a warrior getting ready for battle.
"Alright," she says, eyes sharp and focused. "Let's begin."
Game on.
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Lee stood in the center of the ring, his posture relaxed yet unshakable. His left arm was extended forward, guarding his front, while his right hand hovered near his waist, ready to strike or defend at a moment's notice.
His stance wasn't just one of defense—it was an invitation.
Come at me.
Moon Young's heart pounded in her chest as she took a slow breath, steadying herself.
His body language exuded absolute confidence. There wasn't a single ounce of doubt in him, and that alone made her hesitate for just a fraction of a second.
This wasn't normal.
She had sparred with plenty of men before, even skilled fighters. Some had been overconfident, others had been cautious, but none of them—none of them—had carried themselves like this.
It wasn't arrogance.
It wasn't bluffing.
It was complete certainty.
The type of confidence that only came from true mastery.
And for the first time in a while, Moon Young felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Pressure.
Her fingers clenched into fists as she reminded herself of the reality of the situation.
She was at a natural disadvantage. As a female fighter, she had always been fighting an uphill battle.
No matter how much skill she had, biology was cruel. Men in her weight class were easy to handle, but men above her category?
They could break her.
It was the reason she hadn't moved past her current level.
She was already one of the strongest female fighters in her generation. She could win any tournament, claim any title. A few more years, and she would be the undisputed best.
But that wasn't enough.
Her father had always wanted a son.
She had been his greatest disappointment.
Moon Young had spent her entire life trying to prove that she was just as good—no, better.
That a daughter could be just as strong, just as tough, just as unyielding.
People had told her to switch to MMA, to expand beyond just boxing, but she refused.
Boxing was her battlefield.
She had clawed her way to the top with sheer persistence.
But then, she had faced a male fighter of true skill.
And for the first time, she had felt fear.
She had won. Barely.
But the fight had shown her something she had never wanted to admit.
There was a limit.
No matter how skilled she was, power was never going to be her strength.
So she had focused on speed.
Speed was her greatest weapon. It had to be.
Her eyes snapped up, locking onto Lee's stance again.
'He's testing me.'
She could see it in the way he stood, waiting for her.
He wasn't going to make the first move. He wanted to see what she would do.
Moon Young's teeth clenched.
Fine.
She would show him.
With a deep breath, she lunged forward.
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Okay, so here's the thing about Moon Young stepping forward — the moment she did, I could tell she knew something was off. Not in the way your stomach flips when you drop your phone, but in a way that only fighters understand.
I wasn't just dodging her punches. Nope, I was guiding her. Like a river steering a leaf.
Every jab she threw? I didn't just move out of the way. I redirected her momentum — gently, effortlessly, like water flowing around a rock.
Then she switched it up, throwing a straight right right at my chin. This wasn't just any punch — this was the kind of hit that knocked down guys twice her size.
I met it with an open palm, pushing that force away like I was rerouting a storm.
Before she could even recover, BAM — my fist slammed into her abdomen. Fast. Sneaky. Impossible to predict.
She gasped — I could almost hear it through the noise of the gym.
Her body reacted without thinking — a wild right hook swung at my head. But I was already gone.
Before she could pull back, my palm hit her side, rocking her balance just enough to say, "Hey, pay attention."
It wasn't a knockout blow. Not yet. I was holding back. Way back.
I caught her eyes, calm and steady.
"It would be better to use your whole body instead of just one part," I said like we were talking about the weather, not a fight.
She bristled. "I'm a boxer."
That was her answer and it said everything.
I nodded, understanding.
That was the same reason she refused MMA, the same reason she pushed herself harder than anyone else.
He gets it, she must have thought.
A grin split my face — youthful, energized.
"I get it," I said, voice warm. "And I hope you won't mind if I offer a helping hand."
She blinked. What?
No lecture. No condescension. Just a real offer.
She smiled back. "Thanks. But that's not getting you out of this beating."
Then she charged.
Ducking low, she threw an uppercut aimed right at my chin.
I'd watched her fights. Knew how fast she was. Too fast.
She tried to trap me.
Didn't work.
My elbow met her punch mid-swing, stopping it cold.
Then BAM — my knee shot up toward her forehead.
She barely dodged it, stumbling.
Her mind screamed, "Counter! Find the opening!"
But before she could move, my hands were on her legs.
"No way…"
Her heart was pounding as my grip locked tight, iron-clad.
She tried to surprise me — didn't matter.
I saw everything. Planned everything.
Her breath came fast, shallow.
This was it.
She whispered, almost to herself, "I lost…"
I held her leg a moment longer, then released it and stepped back.
Her foot hit the mat.
She exhaled slowly.
It wasn't just the speed.
It wasn't just the skill.
It was me.
The way I controlled the fight, the way I made it look like a dance she couldn't keep up with.
Unfair? Maybe.
But the best part?
She smiled.