The crisp scent of early morning rain lingered in the air as Ji-Min stepped onto the quiet street outside her house. It was the start of the weekend, and she could think of a million better ways to spend her time than trudging the long road to her high school. Still, for her brother Ji-Hoon's sake, she chose to endure it.

“You know you don’t have to come to the meeting, right?” Ji-Hoon said, falling into step beside her. At nearly two feet taller than her, he towered over her like a mountain. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of unease in his expression. Half of him, it seemed, would have preferred her to stay home.

After all, a meeting with Cheongmyeong High School’s top fighters—known as its most infamous delinquents—was hardly the place for a first-year girl. Yet, Ji-Min was now the group’s treasurer. It wasn’t the kind of role anyone would expect her to take, but if it kept her close to her brother, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

As they passed Jun-Hyuk’s home, Ji-Min’s eyes lingered on the window she knew belonged to his bedroom. The curtains were drawn tight, an unyielding barrier between him and the world outside. Her classmates had whispered about his fight with Choi-Seok yesterday. Anyone else might have clucked their tongues at the violence, but Ji-Min felt something else entirely. Pride. A flicker of hope.

A piece of her had shattered every time she’d walked by this house and seen him—a shadow of the boy he used to be—silently enduring the cruel jeers and fists of others. She still remembered their childhood, the days when Jun-Hyuk had been her protector. Back in elementary school, he was the boy everyone knew as a strong fighter, the one who stood tall and fearless. She had been the shy, quiet kid with trembling hands, and he had been her hero.

But then came the accident. That horrible, life-altering crash in middle school that stole more than just his memories. It took his spark, his courage, the essence of the boy she had once looked up to. Ji-Min had watched helplessly as he retreated into himself, his once unshakable confidence replaced by hesitation and pain.

Now, hearing that he’d stood his ground yesterday, something stirred in her chest. Could it mean his memories were coming back? Could the Jun-Hyuk she once knew—the fearless boy who made her believe she could be brave too—be finding his way back? Ji-Min’s heart ached with the weight of it all, a bittersweet mix of longing and hope. All she could do was pray that the fight wasn’t just a momentary flicker but the beginning of a brighter flame reigniting within him.

Her thoughts were so consumed by Jun-Hyuk that the world around her blurred into insignificance. It wasn’t until Ji-Hoon nudged the door open, and a wave of stale air tinged with the faint scent of sweat and old chalk enveloped her, that she realized they had arrived. The back room, dimly lit by a flickering fluorescent bulb, greeted them with its mismatched chairs and scuffed wooden table, scarred from years of restless hands and discarded pencils. Posters from school events long past clung to the walls in peeling, yellowed patches. Ji-Min blinked, trying to ground herself in the present.

The heavy door creaked shut behind them, the room’s stale air sinking into her lungs as Ji-Min adjusted to the dimness. Her fingers instinctively grazed the edges of the old, scratched table, the faint scent of chalk dust and sweat still hanging in the corners. The group was already gathered, the chatter falling into a hush as she and Ji-Hoon entered.

Jang Hyun-Woo, their school’s first ranked, his towering presence hard to ignore, sat at the head of the table. His intense eyes scanned the room, giving off the feeling of a predator circling its prey, his body language unapologetically commanding. Beside him, Kang Min-Soo, the second ranked, whose silence carried its own weight, leaned back in his chair, arms folded, his expression unreadable but sharp. Han Ji-Hoon, Ji-Min's older brother, occupied the seat next to Min-Soo, his hands resting on the table, fingers tapping lightly in rhythm with his thoughts.

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"The money’s flowing well," Jang Hyun-Woo spoke first, his voice a low rumble that commanded attention. "But we need to expand—use the influence we’ve been building to secure the future. The loan sharks are operating smoothly, but it's not enough."

"Agreed," Min-Soo said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We’re doing fine, but we need to get into more than just lending. We need more leverage. More control." His sharp eyes flickered to the others. "It’s not just about cash anymore."

Ji-Hoon shifted in his seat, his mind clearly on something else, but he kept his face impassive as always. "You’re right, but getting more control means dealing with the outside threats."

Everyone in the room fell silent at the mention of threats, each person’s gaze flickering toward the door, as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

"It’s Baekho," Jin-Woo finally spoke up, his tone flat but heavy with meaning. "They’ve been forcing our students into their underground fighting ring. I’ve heard from a few… they’re pressuring anyone who looks like they have potential."

The room tensed. Jang Hyun-Woo’s eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping once on the table. "Baekho’s been making moves," he muttered, a barely contained growl in his voice. "But we don’t want to provoke them."

Tae-Jun, ever the wildcard, broke the silence with a scoff. "You’re all too cautious. They’re dragging our students into their filthy ring, and you’re worried about starting a war?"

Woo-Young’s cold, calculating gaze slid to Tae-Jun, then back to the rest. "War means more than just bruises. It’ll cost us, and it’ll cost our people."

Jin-Woo nodded in agreement, his gaze steady. "The students involved in these rings—some of them are already indebted to the loan sharks. We make a move, and it could backfire."

"Not to mention, there are whispers that their top fighter... is even more dangerous than we thought," Min-Ho said quietly, his voice as soft as ever but laden with danger. "The last thing we want is to find ourselves in a fight we can’t win."

Ji-Hoon gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white, his jaw clenched tight. "So, we do nothing?"

The room fell into another silence, heavy and thick. They were all thinking the same thing—Baekho was a beast with far too many claws. But no one wanted to take the first strike.

Finally, a voice, small but sharp, broke through the tension.

"Why don’t we let Jun-Hyuk handle it?" Min-Ho suggested, his gaze cool and calculating as he looked around the table. "If he’s really the one they say he is… it’ll give him a chance to prove himself. He can deal with their top fighter—get rid of the ring without us having to do anything."

A long pause followed.

"Isn’t that a bit much for a first-year?" Woo-Young said, his voice dripping with skepticism.

"Maybe. But if he can handle Choi-Seok’s crew, he can handle this," Min-Ho pressed. "If he wins, we won’t retaliate for the mess with Choi-Seok. It’s his shot."

Ji-Hoon’s eyes flicked to Ji-Min for a brief moment before locking onto Min-Ho, his jaw working. "You’re suggesting we throw him into the lion’s den?"

"Sometimes," Min-Ho said with a cold smile, "you have to let the lion prove its worth."

The silence that followed was filled with anticipation, all eyes now on Ji-Hoon, the leader of their group. Slowly, he nodded. "Fine. We’ll let him handle it. But if he fails, it’s on him."

As the others murmured their agreement, Ji-Min felt her heart leap in her chest. Her brother had given Jun-Hyuk a chance—a real chance to fight back. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table, uncertainty mingling with hope as she wondered what her brother was truly thinking.

It wasn’t just Jun-Hyuk’s fate on the line. It was everyone’s.