The cool air of the hall brushed Linda skin as she moved, but she barely felt it.
Her focus stayed on Mr. Kwon's stance, on the space between them, and the quiet tension that never left his eyes.
Her body was still sore from the last session, but there was no point dwelling on it. Training didn't allow that.
The moment she stepped forward, Mr. Kwon was already watching, already expecting motion.
"Left."
Linda shifted quickly, boots scraping the mat.
"Lower."
She bent, knees burning as she dropped, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp breath.
"Turn."
She spun, almost losing balance, caught herself, came up too slow—
"Up."
She straightened, chest rising hard, sweat slipping down her temple.
He didn't give her time.
She moved again, then again, her body chasing his voice, her mind lagging behind.
For a second, she mistimed it.
His foot slid in front of hers, blocking her path.
Linda's heart jumped.
No space.
No time.
She reacted without thinking, twisting away, her muscles answering before fear could.
She thought of nothing except the next move.
When they shifted into striking, her first blow landed wrong. The second was better. On the third, her wrist bent and pain shot up her arm. He caught it, steadying her grip, his fingers firm and exact.
"Don't fight your body," he said. "Listen to it."
And try again.
The impact rang sharp, as sound stirred something inside her, a quiet spark of satisfaction she hadn't felt in a long while.
The pace increased.
Combinations bled into counters, each movement into reaction. Her lungs began to burn, her shoulders tightened, sweat slid down her spine, but she refused to slow.
When her guard slipped, his fist brushed past her cheek, close enough to feel the wind of it.
She quickly corrected herself instantly.
As they move closing the distance. Elbows, knees, grips, releases.
He crowded her, pressing until the mat's edge was at her back and there was nowhere to retreat.
Then her body answered before her thoughts could catch up, turning, slipping, driving forward when he shifted.
Next he threw her.
The mat knocked the air from her chest, and for a moment the pain made everything spin. She lay there staring at the ceiling, the ache spreading through her ribs.
"Linda."
He called, his voice cut clean through her thoughts.
Linda rolled, forcing herself up as she blocked his next strike, missed the one after that, took the third against her shoulder and staggered — but she stayed standing.
Disarming drills followed, faster now, and more demanding.
The blade left her hand and returned, again and again, until her arms shook and her fingers burned.
When her knee brushed the mat, she caught herself before it touched.
Silence filled the space. As he waited.
She straightened up, lifting her gaze, and meting him .
During the final spar, she was now better.
She saw his movement before it happened and reacted on instinct, slipping past his guard and forcing him back half a step.
When he finally called for a break, her chest was heaving, her muscles screaming, and her hands trembling at her sides. She felt wrecked, exhausted… and steadier than she had in weeks.
After the session ended, Linda remained where she was, sitting on the mat with her back against the wall.
Her uniform clung to her skin, damp with sweat. Every breath came slow and heavy, her chest still tight from the effort.
Mr. Kwon moved away to collect the equipment. He didn't say anything. He never did after training.
Few minutes later Mr. Kwon returned and stopped in front of her. He offered her a bottle of water.
"Thanks" Linda said as she collected the water.
"You did well today," he said. "Very well."
The words made something warm rise in her chest. She hadn't even realized how badly she wanted to hear them until that moment.
"Thank you, sir," she replied, unable to hide her smile.
With that, Linda went inside to change out of her training clothes, her body still buzzing from the session. When she came back, she bowed her head slightly and said her goodbyes.
"See you next week."
Mr. Kwon watched her go, then simply said, "Don't get lazy."
Linda nodded as she walked out of the building.
Outside, the afternoon breeze brushed against her face. She reached her bike, dropped her bag beside it, and was just about to climb on when her phone rang.
"Linda, where are you?" Ha Rin's voice burst from the speaker immediately she picked.
"Alex is loaded. Let's eat out."
Linda laughed softly. "Where are you guys?"
"We're already on our way to your place," Ha Rin replied."
"Oh—" Linda hesitated. "I went out for a little stroll. I'll be there in a minute. Just open the door and wait for me."
"Fine. Hurry."
Linda ended the call, slipped her phone into her pocket, and swung onto her bike. The engine hummed beneath her as she pulled onto the road, the feeling of the training still steady in her bones.
As Linda got home, she found Alex and Ha Rin already waiting outside, seated inside Alex's car.
She paused before turning toward the garage. Parking her bike properly. knowing that she had already kept her friends waiting for too long. Asking them to wait again while she took a bath would only earn her endless complaints.
She dropped her bag onto the bike seat, shut the garage door, and hurried back to the car.
The moment she slid into the back seat, Ha Rin twisted around to look at her.
"What took you so long?" she asked. "We were this close to starving."
Alex glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Another five minutes and I would've started chewing the steering wheel."
Linda rolled her eyes. "Relax. I'm here now."
Ha Rin sniffed lightly. "You smell like dust and sweat."
"I trained today," Linda replied calmly. "Be grateful I even came."
Alex laughed as he started the engine. "Training or not, food first. I'm taking you both to the best restaurant in town."
"Your definition of 'best' is suspicious," Ha Rin said rolling her eyes.
"Hey," Alex shot back, offended, "last time you ate everything and even asked for dessert."
"That's because I was hungry," she said quickly.
Linda leaned back against the seat, watching the city slide past the window as they drove. The tension from earlier slowly eased, replaced by the familiar noise of their voices, teasing and arguing over nothing.