Zen was drenched in sweat.
He couldn't move.
The moment he tried, the grip tightened—effortless, unyielding.
Every attempt felt useless. Like struggling against something that didn't even register his strength.
Despair crept in first.
Then fear.
Cold. Suffocating.
It wrapped around his chest, squeezing tighter with every second he stayed trapped like this.
His breathing turned uneven.
His thoughts scattered.
But—
Not everything broke.
Somewhere deep inside him, buried under the fear and exhaustion—
Something still burned.
A stubborn, unyielding will.
His fighting spirit hadn't died yet.
But that fighting spirit…
It wouldn't last long.
Zen heard footsteps behind him.
Slow.
Closing in.
He tried to turn his head—
But couldn't.
The grip didn't allow it.
His body stayed locked in place, like he wasn't even allowed that much freedom.
Emotions crashed into him all at once.
Fear.
Frustration.
And above all—
Regret.
Sharp. Crushing.
He shouldn't have made that choice.
Shouldn't have wandered blindly into this place like it meant nothing.
He had forgotten.
This wasn't his world.
Not anymore.
That mistake—
Was costing him everything.
His jaw tightened.
He was still thinking like he was back there…
Still acting like the rules hadn't changed.
And now—
He was paying for it.
The footsteps came closer.
Closer.
Zen's pulse spiked.
If they found him now—
It was over.
No escape.
He tried to struggle again, forcing his body to move—
Nothing.
The grip didn't budge.
Then the man's voice came from behind him, low and controlled.
"Don't make a sound… if you don't want to get caught."
Zen's thoughts froze.
What?
Zen couldn't make sense of anything anymore.
Nothing was adding up.
Why was the man who had ambushed him…
Helping him now?
Wasn't he part of the gang?
If not—
Then who was he?
And if he wasn't—
Then why ambush him in the first place?
The man dragged Ash into a corner and pushed open a door.
Quietly.
Carefully.
He pulled Ash inside with him and shut it without a sound.
The footsteps outside grew clearer.
Closer.
Echoing through the alley.
Ash's heart pounded like a war drum, each beat loud enough to betray him.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
He held his breath without realizing it.
In that moment—
He prayed.
To every god he knew.
Just let them pass.
Don't let them notice.
Not here.
Not now.
From the window beside the door, he could see outside.
Everything.
Clear.
The shadows of people stretched across the ground, shifting as they moved.
Closing in.
His heartbeat slammed against his ribs, loud, heavy—like it was trying to break free.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
One by one, they passed.
Boots scraping.
Voices low.
Too close.
Ash didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
His mouth had gone dry, throat tight, every nerve on edge.
He just kept praying.
Please…
Let them pass.
One by one, they disappeared from Ash's view.
The shadows faded.
The alley grew quiet again.
But the man's grip didn't loosen.
Not even a little.
Only when the last trace of movement was gone—
Only when they were completely out of sight—
Ash finally let out a breath.
Slow.
Shaky.
A quiet sigh of relief.
The tension that had been coiled inside him snapped all at once.
Anxiety.
Fear.
Pressure.
All of it hit him together, crashing through his body in a wave.
For a moment—
He just stood there, trying to breathe.
The man's voice came from behind him.
"You're safe now."
The grip loosened.
Then released completely.
The moment the restraint was gone—
Ash moved.
He spun around and lunged.
They both crashed to the ground.
Hard.
Ash landed on top, straddling his chest, and drove his fist down.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
A barrage.
No hesitation. No questions.
He didn't know who this man was.
Didn't know why he had ambushed him—then saved him.
And that was exactly why he couldn't trust him.
So he attacked.
The man reacted instantly.
His arms came up, crossing over his face, blocking the punches as they rained down.
Ash poured everything into those punches.
Every bit of fear.
Every ounce of anger.
Every second of helplessness—
All of it came crashing down through his fists.
Again.
And again.
From beneath him, the man struggled, trying to speak.
"Hey… it's… me…"
But Ash didn't stop.
Didn't listen.
The punches kept coming.
Faster.
Harder.
The man's patience snapped.
"For fuck's sake—it's me!"
In one sharp motion, he shifted his weight and twisted his body.
Ash lost balance.
In the next second—
Their positions flipped.
Now the man was on top.
Before Ash could react—
Two punches came down.
Thud.
Thud.
After giving the two punches, the man said, "It's me… your coach, Kang."
After getting the two punches, did Ash listen?
Who is Kang?
He couldn't make it out, but the name was familiar. He didn't get all the memory, but there were pieces. He tried to search for the name Kang in his memory.
One by one, new memories clicked in his head.
Suddenly, it clicked.
Kang… the name…
He was Ash's boxing coach.
Boxing. Of course. That was his past slef. His past self had trained under Kang.
Fuck… did I really go to boxing?
Memories started to trickle back, sharp and fragmented, like flashes of light in a dark room.
But it all clicked now. Yes, anyone could say it—Ash had training. His body, his reflexes, the fighting—it all felt too familiar. That was how Ash was able to win the fight, even though he himself was confused about how he had fought so well.
Even if Ash's previous self had practiced martial arts, it didn't mean he would be able to execute it in real life. He would need proper experience for it.
But then—why did Kang ambush him?
Did they have any dispute?
No… Ash didn't think that was the reason.
Ash couldn't make it out.
"Why…?" he asked, his voice tense, directed at Kang.
"Why did you ambush me?"
Kang's voice came out nonchalant.
"For fun."
Ash's mind crashed.
"What the fuck… for fun? Ha… just fun, motherfucker!"
"Do you know how scared I was, fuck! I almost thought my life was over!"
Kang's voice came out, calm as ever.
"Come on, don't fret it… didn't I save your life? But take it as payback—you didn't come for boxing coaching for two days."
Ash's anger flared—over something as ridiculous as "for fun."
Still… he couldn't deny it. Kang had really saved his life.
Ash sank deeper into thought, the weight of the chase still pressing on him.
But Kang snapped him out of it with a question.
"Why were they chasing you?" Kang asked, calm but curious.
Ash hesitated, then replied, "I… I was just roaming. Somehow, I ended up in their territory."
Kang laughed out loud, a sharp, knowing sound.
"You're finished," he said, still chuckling. "If they see you again, they'll hunt you down."
Ash just stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. How can this man live like this? he cursed in his head.
"Could you… get up from there? You're heavy," Ash muttered, wincing.
Kang looked down, realizing he was still sitting on Ash. With a smirk, he pushed himself off.
Ash sat up straight, every movement sending sharp jolts of pain through his battered body. Even the smallest motion felt like a mountain to climb.
Ash looked up toward his coach and extended his hand. Kang understood immediately, grabbing it and pulling Ash to his feet.
Ash finally looked at Kang properly.
Fuck… this old man, he thought, he's intimidating as hell.
Ash's eyes took in Kang properly.
The man had a fully built, massive body—muscles layered over every inch, dense and powerful. He moved with the kind of strength and control that made it clear every muscle was trained, honed over years.
And somehow… he was still damn attractive. Not a single sign of age betrayed him. No one would guess he was old at all.
But he didn't dwell on it long. The thought lingered, though—this old man wouldn't go easy on him. Yes, in a strange way, it was true: Ash was damn attractive for his own good.
Ash glanced at Kang and asked, "Where are we?"
"My house," Kang replied.
"What… don't tell me they hit your head too?" Kang blurted out.
Ash paused. Did he even come here before? Shit. His memory was fragmented, incomplete. It was going to be tough to act like his previous self had.
Better to admit it—maybe claiming a blow to the head would help him cover things later.
"Yes… they hit my head," he said, wincing.
"Fuck… they hit every part of my body," he muttered, each word tinged with pain.
Kang looked at Ash, taking in the bruises, torn clothes, and dried blood.
"Wait here. I'll bring the first aid," Kang said.
Ash scanned the room and saw a chair. He sat down, lifted his head, and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, he closed his eyes and drew in a long, shaky inhale—then exhaled just as slowly.
"Fuck… today was a damn unlucky day," he muttered under his breath.
It had been pure hell. But somehow… he had survived.
Ash's mind raced as he replayed the events. He finally understood the dangers of this new world. He couldn't roam carelessly like he did on Earth. Here, every step, every choice, every movement had to be measured.
He had to adapt—fast.