Since Do Seung-woo and I were the same age, we were often forced into each other’s company as children. Whether it was family gatherings, training sessions, or even casual conversations among the adults, we were constantly compared to one another.
“Look at Seung-woo’s form—so precise. Why can’t you be more like him, Gyeon-woo?”
“Gyeon-woo has such natural talent; he just lacks the discipline that Seung-woo has.”
Hearing such remarks over and over etched a sharp line between us—a chasm we never tried to bridge.
‘How could we have become close when we were always pitted against each other?’ I thought bitterly. ‘It would have been stranger if we did.’
Even so, in another life, I might have hoped for a truce—a relationship where we could coexist without resentment.
But that hope had long since crumbled. From the start, Do Seung-woo treated me not as a peer but as an obstacle to overcome.
While I wanted nothing more than to exist without conflict, he seemed determined to crush me at every opportunity.
When we were children, he delighted in embarrassing me in public, whether by pointing out my flaws during training or mocking me in front of the family.
And every single time, I froze. I couldn’t come up with a retort or defend myself. My only reaction was to cry, which only fueled his cruelty.
This cycle became my reputation within the family.
“He just cries all the time,” I once overheard one of the elders mutter. “Doesn’t he ever get angry? If it were me, I’d fight back.”
“Is that boy really the son of a lion? He’s bringing shame to the family name.”
“It’s no wonder, though,” another chimed in. “He’s from a commoner’s bloodline. All looks and no strength. It’s pitiful, really.”
Their words stung more than any sparring injury.
Meanwhile, Do Seung-woo grew stronger, more confident, and more revered. His bullying only enhanced his reputation, painting him as a leader and a future prospect for the family’s legacy.
‘If only he’d stopped there,’ I thought.
But no. Even after cementing his place in the family’s favor, he continued to target me, as if my existence alone offended him.
He hated me with an intensity I couldn’t comprehend.
‘What did I do to deserve this?’
I racked my brain, trying to uncover some moment where I might have wronged him, but there was nothing. I hadn’t done anything to him—nothing except exist.
Resentment bubbled inside me, but I couldn’t express it. Back then, I was too afraid, too weak to fight back. Instead, I let his words tear into me, and I turned that anger inward.
‘What a fool I was,’ I thought now, the memory of my own inaction filling me with shame.
Perhaps he bullied me because I made it easy for him. I didn’t resist, didn’t stand my ground, and so he kept going.
But if I allowed this to continue, it wouldn’t stop here.
‘This will carry over to the academy.’
According to the flow of the game, in five years, both Do Seung-woo and I would enroll in the same academy where Kang Han-byeol, the protagonist, would attend.
There, my torment would escalate.
Do Seung-woo would manipulate his influence over me, turning other students against me. I’d be humiliated time and again, my reputation as a member of a prestigious family tarnished beyond repair.
‘That’s when Kang Han-byeol steps in.’
In the game, Kang Han-byeol finds Do Gyeon-woo—a helpless, bullied figure—and rescues him. Their bond begins with that moment of salvation.
Later, during the academy’s midterm exams, Kang Han-byeol confronts Do Seung-woo and his gang, defeating them and asserting himself as the hero of the story.
From that point onward, Do Gyeon-woo becomes a loyal ally to Kang Han-byeol.
In that sense, Do Seung-woo was nothing more than a stepping stone—a narrative device to bring Gyeon-woo and Han-byeol together.
But that wasn’t enough for me.
‘Do I just endure five years of suffering, waiting for a hero to save me?’
Absolutely not.
Why should I? Why should I let myself be a victim for the sake of someone else’s story?
I clenched my fists, determination surging through me. I refused to follow that path.
“You couldn’t live because of me? Did I do something wrong to you?” I asked, my voice steady and cold as I confronted him in the training center.
“I really missed you,” he replied, his smirk as irritating as ever.
“You…” I started, narrowing my eyes. “You stirred up the triplets against me, didn’t you?”
His smirk faltered for a moment.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, feigning confusion.
“The triplets at the Swordsmanship Academy,” I said sharply. “You know exactly who I mean.”
“Oh, them,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I heard about that. You fought them and won, didn’t you? Surprising, honestly. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I stayed silent, watching him carefully.
“You’ve changed,” he said with a chuckle. “I thought you’d just take the beating like always, but you actually fought back. Good. A lion of Shingeom Doga should never let anyone push them around—not even insignificant brats.”
His words carried a mocking edge, but his narrowed eyes betrayed his true feelings: hostility.
I met his gaze, my own eyes burning with resentment and defiance.
“You used to be so pathetic,” he said, his tone growing more taunting. “You couldn’t even hit back during sparring, always running away. But now… you’ve changed.”
“That’s right,” I replied evenly. “And who do I have to thank for that?”
He grinned. “Then let’s see how much you’ve really changed. Let’s spar. I’ll give it my all this time.”
Finally, the words I’d been waiting for.
“Oh, really?” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. “Then how about we do it right now?”
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