Unveiled Potential

The air still felt heavy with tension as Jiro walked away from the alley. Whispers followed him, but they sounded distant, like echoes from another world. His Perception Field had already shifted back to its passive state, sensing only subtle movements-the scuff of shoes, the distant thud of a basketball on concrete, the faint hum of a car engine in the distance.

But behind him, the silence was palpable. No one chased him. No one called out. No one dared.

"He took down Woo-Sik."

"No way… Woo-Sik never loses."

"Kyung-Ho didn't even move. Did you see his face?"

The voices swirled behind him, but he didn't care.

I didn't come here to be noticed. I just wanted peace.

The walk home was long, and he kept his hood up, hands in his pockets, eyes down. It didn't matter. Even with his eyes lowered, his mind was alert. His Perception Field hummed like a second heartbeat, feeding him information about the world around him. He could feel the pigeons' fluttering past the rooftop, the syncopated clatter of bike wheels on rough pavement, and the turning of someone's gaze to linger on him too long. Glanced left. A guy in a gray hoodie; he was sitting on a bench, phone in his hand.

No threat. Just watching.

He exhaled slowly, the cold air forming mist in front of him. His fingers tensed. Every encounter seemed to sharpen his instincts, but it also left him more aware of how fragile his "peace" had always been.

This won't stop, will it?

The apartment was as quiet as ever. His father wasn't home. Not that it mattered. Han Joon-Seok was never "home." The apartment wasn't a home, just a well-furnished cage.

Jiro tossed his bag onto the couch, pulled off his hoodie, and sat at the dining table. His phone buzzed.

Min-Jun: "Dude, you're ALL OVER the school forum. They're calling you 'Ghost-Eyes' now. Sounds kinda sick, not gonna lie."

Min-Jun: "Also… Kyung-Ho's gang isn't done. Heard something about bringing in outside help. Watch yourself, bro." Jiro looked at the message, his jaw hardening. Outside help. Not kids. Not school yard thugs. Outside help. People with no rules, no limits.

This is getting out of control.

He typed a quick reply.

Jiro:"Thanks."

He didn't need more than that. Min-Jun would understand.

Jiro rubbed his temples, leaning back in his chair. His Perception Field wasn't "on," but it was always present now, like a constant thrum in the back of his mind. No threats nearby. No dangers. For now, at least.

There was nothing unusual about the morning routine. He'd prepared his breakfast, brushed his teeth, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the door. He put on his hoodie and went outside. The morning chill in the city was stuck to his skin.

Another day, another fight to avoid.

But the closer he got to school, the more that gnawing feeling came creeping back. It was faint and yet there — the sense that someone was watching him. Not the usual looks at him from his classmates, but heavier, colder somehow.

He turned to peer behind him. No one was there. But it felt like it.

It felt like a change in the air. A single silent step. Someone was entering his Perception Field range.

Three people. 25 meters back.

Jiro didn't change his pace. His eyes stayed forward, steps even, hands relaxed. But his mind sharpened like a blade. Each movement behind him became clear as day. Three men. Not students. Heavy footfalls. Not in sync. Not professionals either.

Hired thugs

They're testing me.

Jiro made a left turn down a quiet street lined with old shops and alleyways. No one else was around. The three behind him followed. He could feel it — the shift in their pace, their movements becoming more purposeful.

They think I'm running.

He sighed and stopped walking.

The footsteps behind him stopped for a second before growing louder as the men advanced.

3 seconds to close in

Jiro didn't turn. He didn't have to. The first one advanced boldly, footfalls heavy, not bothering to remain quiet. He reached out to grab Jiro's shoulder.

Shift

Jiro's head tilted slightly. His half-lidded eyes cast to the side.

Too slow.

He ducked, spun, and his hand lashed out, catching the thug's wrist. A sharp pull forward, followed by a twist. The man's balance shattered, his knee buckling. Jiro swept his leg and sent him to the ground with a thud.

"Ah—!" the thug groaned, holding his arm.

The other two moved in. One threw a wild punch. Jiro leaned left. The second swung a kick. Jiro ducked. His mind was calm, each motion seen before it even began.

Predictable

His left palm struck the kicker's knee, forcing him to stumble. His right elbow shot back into the jaw of the first thug, the impact dull but final. One down.

The second thug, regaining his balance, stepped in fast, aiming for Jiro's ribs.

He's committed.

Jiro raised his arm, catching the blow on his forearm. Pain throbbed, but he'd felt worse. He shifted, planting his foot and driving his palm into the thug's chest. The thug staggered back, wheezing.

The one on the ground attempted to stand but Jiro's foot pressed down on his shoulder, pinning him on the ground. He muttered, "Stay down." His voice was so quiet but cutting, sharp as cold steel. The other two glare at him but neither made a step forward. His confidence has been drained dry. Hired muscle with no loyalty

"Tell whoever sent you," Jiro said, moving back, "that I don't run."

They said nothing. He didn't need them to. He knew they'd pass along the message.

Min-Jun rushed up to him, breathing hard. "Yo! Jiro! You good, man? I heard some guys were asking around about you this morning."

Handled it, he replied, walking past him.

"Hold, wait!" Min-Jun followed behind him, his voice going softer. "Kyung-Ho is mad. Really, really mad. Word around school is that he is getting someone new in,"

"Another outsider?" Jiro asked, though still looking forward.

"No, worse," Min-Jun said, his voice turned more serious. "An additional student. Someone from Jong-Il Academy.

Jiro stopped. Jong-Il Academy. It wasn't a regular school. They said it was a school that trained fighters, ran underground tournaments, and created some of the most savage street fighters in the city.

"Who?" Jiro asked quietly.

Min-Jun glanced around, his voice barely above a whisper. "Jang Hyun-Seok."

The name struck like a hammer. Jiro's eyes narrowed. Hyun-Seok. He knew of him. Not in rumors only-he'd seen him once. Back then, I didn't have the Perception Field… but even then, I knew he was dangerous. This was no longer about sending a message anymore. Kyung-Ho had called Hyun-Seok.

They're coming to break me.