The arena lights burned white above the ring, casting sharp shadows beneath the ropes. The judges had already taken their seats, pens poised. As the final bout was announced, the murmurs of the scattered crowd faded into a heavy silence within the small but colorful hall. They had gathered for this—the last collision of will and endurance.
The fighters entered one after the other.
Nau Rin stepped into the blue corner, her gaze unreadable. Across from her, in red, her opponent rolled her shoulders.
At the referee's signal, the bell split the air.
Nau Rin and her opponent stepped forward at the same time, gloves rising instinctively into guard. They settled into their stances, weight balanced, eyes locked. Neither dared to throw the first move.
They circled.
Step by careful step, they moved along the edge of the ring, testing distance without committing. Nau Rin's gaze stayed steady, tracking every twitch of her opponent's shoulders, every subtle shift of weight. Across from her stood a fighter nearly a head shorter—but compact, dense with muscle. Thick forearms. Solid legs. The kind of build that suggested power packed into a smaller frame.
From the red corner, a coach's voice cut through the arena.
"Pressure her! Go forward!"
Yet the shorter fighter did not rush. She waited.
Midway through the first round, the referee gestured sharply, urging them to engage. Nau Rin moved first. She stepped in and fired a clean right straight, sharp as a snapped wire. But the red fighter slipped just outside its line, pivoting with minimal effort, and answered instantly with a counter.
Nau Rin shifted to the left, her raised hand taking most of the blow. The impact still sent a sharp shock through her arm. The pace of the fight was beginning to settle — and it wasn't moving in her favor.
In the second round, she chose to close the distance. She stepped forward and sent out a quick series of strikes with her left hand — one after another — sharp, testing, searching for an opening.
But the fighter in red drew in tight, like a fortress shutting its gates. Her arms came up, her body compact and steady, her expression calm. Every attempt met solid resistance. No panic. No wasted motion. Just patience — and a wall that would not break.
Her punches bounced off the red fighter's forearms and shoulders, leaving her with the sinking feeling that her energy was being drained into a void.
The fight between them unfolded like a game of cat and mouse. One tried to strike with precision, but the other blocked like a wall; when one lunged, Nau Rin slipped away as if she were a shadow. Their friends watched, eager to cheer, but unsure what to say. Every blow she threw missed its mark.
As they sat in tense silence, a deep, calm voice sliced through the quiet from beside them.
"Thought I'd give this a try," it said.
All three turned their heads. They hadn't noticed when the person had taken a seat next to them. Eyes never leaving the ring, the newcomer observed silently.
Taehyun spoke first.
"Who are you?"
"Who do you think?" came the teasing reply.
"She usually trains with taller opponents, so she doesn't really know how to fight someone shorter," the voice explained.
In the next instant, during one of Nau Rin's attacks when her guard momentarily dropped, her opponent struck from point-blank range. A straight punch broke through her defense and landed sharply on her cheek with a thud. The crowd gasped.
Nau Rin staggered back, absorbing the impact, and barely managed to steady herself on the ropes. Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of the second round.
Turning toward her corner, her coach handed her a bottle of water.
"See? You can't do anything alone, can you?" he said.
Nau Rin furrowed her brow and, returning the water, replied firmly,
"I'm not alone!"
Meanwhile, the voices of her friends carried a soft echo through the arena.
This time, Nau Rin lost her composure. She surged forward, her strikes brimming with a desperate urgency, but in her haste, her guard fell open.
Her opponent's punch landed suddenly—clean, precise, and unyielding.
She staggered back, pressing against the ropes, her gloved hands hanging loosely at her sides. Her gaze remained fixed on a single point on the floor, unmoving, as if suspended in time.
"…Eight… Nine!"—the referee's voice sliced through the tense air. Then, unexpectedly, Nau Rin lifted her head.
What happened next was nothing anyone could have predicted. Her face held no trace of pain. Instead, a strange, almost mischievous smile curved her lips. She locked eyes with her opponent, proud and unyielding, as if daring her: "Is that all you've got?
Fury flared in her opponent's expression. Her brow furrowed, and her breathing grew harsh. But in that moment, these punches had taught Nau Rin something. Compared to Sunbae, these strikes were nothing. A surge of confidence swelled within her—a firm conviction that no matter how many times she was struck, she could endure and outlast it all.
Both tightened their fists, assuming their defensive stances, yet through her gloves, a faint smile teased at Nau Rin's lips. With a subtle flick of her hand, she beckoned: "Come on."
Since the fight began, only one question had echoed in her mind: Why? Why did her strikes fail to land? Why did every attack seem to falter, as if she were trapped in an endless circle?
Her gaze hardened, the smile vanishing as focus sharpened into a steely intensity.
Her opponent lunged decisively. Nau Rin shifted into her guard, pressing her hands tightly to her cheeks, shielding her head and chest with precision. In that instant, as her opponent swung a powerful left, Nau Rin sensed the counterattack with uncanny clarity. In a lightning-quick motion, she met his strike with a straight right, landing squarely between his brows.
His head snapped back, his vision blurred for a fleeting moment, and instinctively, he raised his hands to shield his face, eyes widening in alarm.
But Nau Rin didn't falter. She pressed forward, hammering his forehead repeatedly. Her opponent, forced backward into the ropes, staggered as the ropes trembled under the impact. Seeing his chest exposed, Nau Rin channeled all her strength into a crushing right hook to the center of his torso.
Pain showed on his face, and his breathing grew deep. He began to attack her without pause, launching a relentless flurry of strikes.
Yet Nau Rin didn't relent, her guard unwavering as she was pressed back by the relentless flurry. The ring shrank around her, corners closing off, leaving no angles to dodge or escape. With every step backward, her opponent's punches gained force, until she was but a single step from the ropes.
Suddenly, she dug her right foot into the canvas, bracing herself to a dead stop. Channeled by the sudden halt, she poured her entire body's inertia into her right fist. At that exact moment, her opponent also swung his right with every ounce of his strength.
Their right fists crossed in midair, skimming over the shoulders like two bullets passing in flight. Both punches landed simultaneously against their cheeks, the sickening thud of bone on bone audible only to them.
Every strike hit its mark—yet when the dust settled in the center of the ring, only one remained standing firmly on their feet.
The referee raised the blue glove, declaring her the champion.
Three grueling days of the national junior boxing championship had finally come to an end, and the award ceremony began. Nau Rin entered the hall last, stepping onto the winner's podium with pride radiating from her posture.
While the referee was holding her hand to offer his congratulations, an assistant quietly guided him away. He released her hand and walked toward a corner of the hall, where a small cluster of judges had gathered, leaning in intently over something one of them held.
Nau Rin waited, confused and tense. The audience, sensing the unusual tension, murmured among themselves, the noise growing restless.
After a brief moment, it seemed the discussion had concluded. An older judge picked up a microphone and climbed onto the stage.
"A competitor must act with integrity," his voice resonated steadily through the hall. "Combat sports should not be a weapon for oppressing others or using brute force, but an art of compassion—to protect oneself and others."
He paused, and a heavy silence fell over the hall.
"Therefore," he continued, "the panel of judges has determined that the athlete's actions were inconsistent with the code of ethics. Her victory is hereby nullified and awarded to her opponent."
Without further explanation, he returned the microphone and stepped down, walking back to his seat among the other judges.
Nau Rin froze, unsure what to do or say, her legs feeling as if rooted to the floor. The assistants gently prompted her to step down from the podium. Slowly, as if awakening from a daze, she descended, each step heavy and deliberate.
As she looked toward the exit, she saw her coach standing there; he simply shook his head and walked away without looking back.
Behind her, the cheers and applause for the newly declared winner continued to echo through the hall. Her friends exchanged wide-eyed, bewildered glances, unable to comprehend what had just happened, and followed her out in silence.
She ate her meal in silence. Across the table, her parents exchanged quiet glances, but neither of them wanted to ask what had happened.
"I'm finished. I'll go up first," Nau Rin said softly. She placed her dishes in the sink and headed straight to her room.
She had barely begun studying when her phone buzzed against the desk. A message from Minho flashed across the screen.
Come to the playground.
By the time she arrived, Minho was sitting alone on one of the concrete obstacles. His elbows were braced on his knees, his body leaning slightly forward. He rolled something small between his fingers, staring at the ground as if weighed down by his thoughts.
Nau Rin walked over and leaned against a nearby pole.
"Why did you call me?" she asked.
Minho remained silent for a moment.
"I wanted to talk to you. About the match… I'm sorry. Because of me—" His voice trailed off, and he finally looked up at her.
Nau Rin met his eyes without the slightest hesitation.
"Yes," she replied plainly. "It was because of you."