May Came Swiftly

The National Youth Boxing Championship was drawing an unusual level of attention.
Typically, only a few sports reporters would attend, but today, at least twenty reporters were lined up and waiting.

“Haha, this level of interest is a bit overwhelming.”

Chairman Choi Seokchan of the Korea Boxing Association glanced at the gathering reporters, visibly perturbed.

“It’s certainly unusual. This event doesn’t normally attract this much attention…”

Other officials echoed his sentiment, uncomfortable with the idea of being in front of so many cameras.

“Kim Donghu really is impressive, though.”
“But none of us leaked the participant list. How did they even find out?”
“Seems like some selfish folks are just looking out for themselves.”

While the exposure could benefit the championship by increasing awareness and participation,
Chairman Choi wasn’t pleased with the means.

“What kind of glory do they expect from using these kids like this?”

Unlike adult tournaments, where participants have ample experience and don’t mind the press,
this was a youth tournament, and it didn’t feel right to have camera shutters clicking around young athletes.

'Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed it.'

Looking back, perhaps he should’ve kept all reporters out, but he realized that was an impossible stance to take.
With a “National Crown Prince” like Kim Donghu in the lineup, banning media coverage wasn’t realistic.
The reporters would just find other, more disruptive ways to get their shots.

'This is as far as I could control things.'

At least the news of Donghu’s participation hadn’t spread publicly, meaning only the reporters were here.
If fans had joined in, the situation could’ve spiraled out of control.

Finally, after all these struggles, the National Youth Boxing Championship began.
Following a brief opening ceremony, the tournament was underway.

The rules were simple:

• Two minutes per round, one minute of rest.
• Three rounds in total, with elimination rounds down to the finals.

 

Participants were divided by age and weight class, and middle and high school divisions were kept strictly separate—except for one special case.

Chairman Choi watched as Kim Donghu entered on the high school side.
There was no question that he was extremely good-looking.

With looks surpassing even his youngest son’s, it seemed surreal that someone like him was boxing.

'What’s even more unbelievable is that he chose to compete in the high school division.'

Physically, Donghu was well-suited for it.
But given the experience and development differences between middle and high schoolers, it was rare for a middle schooler to challenge the high school bracket.

Had it not been for Donghu’s application, even Chairman Choi had forgotten about the rule.

'This is going to be interesting.'

He was curious to see what Donghu would bring to the ring, though he couldn’t solely focus on Donghu’s match.
As soon as he confirmed Donghu was on the ring, he looked away.

Then the match began.

Exactly four seconds later—

Boom!

The sound of an explosion filled the arena.

“…What…what was that?!”

Startled, Chairman Choi looked toward the source of the noise.
There, he saw Donghu’s opponent sprawled out on the mat and his coach hastily throwing in the towel,
while Donghu stood still by the post he had just punched.

+++++

Skill is often hidden.
Just as you can’t tell by appearance if someone is a Go master or a martial artist, skills acquired through training don’t visibly show.

The skills I’d learned in the past—piano, swordsmanship—didn’t change my physical appearance since they were strictly in the realm of technique.

But boxing? That changed things slightly.

The agility to float like a butterfly, the precision to sting like a bee—those require more than just technique.

Physical prowess.

That’s why, after gaining my second boxing skill, I had a tinge of fear.
In a half-joking way, I couldn’t gauge my own strength.

So, until the tournament started, I practiced on the mitts with Coach Baek, and we reached one conclusion.

“Donghu, that’s not a punch; it’s a cannon. If you hit anyone with that, you’ll kill them.”

A strike that could deliver explosive power from any angle, precisely aimed for maximum effect.

The synergy of these two attributes was beyond imagination, so Coach and I devised a new strategy.

“Let’s make them forfeit.”
“Forfeit?”
“Yeah. Pressure them with jabs, corner them, and hit the post to intimidate them.”

At first, I doubted the plan. Would this really work? But there wasn’t much choice.
When the heavy bag sounded like a bomb upon impact, I couldn’t exactly hit people with it.

So when the match started, I followed the plan, albeit with skepticism.

But then—

Bang!

“Eek!”

As soon as I struck the post, my opponent toppled over in shock.

“I-I forfeit!”

A white towel flew into the ring immediately.

'Huh, this actually works?'

From then on, matches felt easy, and I understood why Sims - The Real Life downloaded a new app.

'With this level of destructive power, there’s no room for variables.'

When hit with cannon fire, opponents had no chance to fight back.

'Saves me a lot of energy, too.'

Though there was only one match per day, continuous rounds would’ve worn me out over time.
But without that concern, I easily reached the finals.

And by some twist of fate…

'Is this the effect of my charmed path?'

My opponent in the finals turned out to be an old acquaintance—Kim Sansoo.

+++++

'What am I even watching?'

Boxing journalist Kim Jindae concluded that he must be hallucinating.
Otherwise, too many aspects defied explanation.

'If I publish an article saying a boxer made his opponents forfeit by hitting the post, will anyone believe it?'

He could already imagine the editor yelling at him before it even reached print; the situation was simply unbelievable.

'Kim Donghu, what are you?'

The National Crown Prince, a prodigy who brought Golden Bell’s ratings back to double digits, the epitome of the perfect son.

He carried numerous titles, but at that moment, he was showing an entirely different side.

'A boxing prodigy?'

Ever since the start of the tournament, he’d felt something unusual.
Why would opponents forfeit over a single strong punch to the post?
Only those up close could understand.

'The density is different.'

Like bringing a real gun to a toy gunfight.

It wasn’t as simple as hitting the post hard and making them forfeit.
Donghu’s opponents saw his punch and predicted their future.

'If I get hit, I’m done.'

Moreover, Donghu’s intentions were clear.
He wasn’t out to harm anyone, only to intimidate them into forfeiting.

And that message got across effortlessly. How?
'It’s terrifying.'

With someone pointing a real gun in your face, who would dare assume it’s fake?

Even the post seemed slightly bent, perhaps due to an optical illusion.
The punch was powerful enough for the opponent’s coach to ask if Donghu had wrapped his fists with plaster.

Though such a thing was impossible in a youth match, Donghu’s punching power left people questioning.

So it came as no surprise that Donghu’s opponents began forfeiting quickly, feeling there was no point in facing him.

And so, an entertaining setup emerged in the finals.
Donghu stood clean and fresh, while his final opponent, Kim Sansoo, looked exhausted from grueling matches.

With their contrasting states, the tension was palpable.
The records showed Donghu as the clear favorite, but some held hope for Sansoo, who had shown determination.

Just as everyone anticipated an intense showdown—

“…Donghu, I’m really sorry about that incident before. I wanted to make amends… I forfeit.”

Sansoo suddenly lowered his head in apology.

'Huh?'

Was this a joke? A hidden camera prank? Or was a high schooler offering a middle schooler encouragement before the match?

While these questions filled everyone’s minds, Sansoo bowed sincerely and stepped down from the ring.

“…National Youth Boxing Championship, high school division winner, Kim Donghu.”

With an incredulous tone, the referee declared a victor in what had to be the least dramatic ending.

The news spread online, quietly but steadily, though it didn’t go viral due to boxing’s niche appeal.
The tournament ended as a story known only to a few, but it didn’t fade completely.

Those who saw Donghu’s matches all said the same thing:

“If actor—no, if boxer—Kim Donghu takes boxing seriously, we might just have another Olympic gold medalist.”

+++++

When did things start to go wrong?

"Donghu, so you’ll check me out naked, right?"
“What? Are you out of your mind?”

Why was Yerim suddenly saying this to me?

“Why? What’s the problem? I don’t mind showing you.”

How did we end up having this conversation? I was baffled.

Where did things go off track?

“Didn’t you say models need a nice body, and even showing some skin is fine?”
“I did say that.”
“If I’m going to show someone, I’d like you to be the first to see.”

No, no, this is not happening.
Absolutely not.

I frowned, mentally tracing back to where this all started.

Back to June, when I gave Yerim serious advice about her modeling path.

“I truly believe you’d make an incredible model.”

That one sentence was the beginning of my troubles.