The final bell rang.
Students flooded out of J High like a dam breaking laughing, shouting, buzzing with rumors and plans for the upcoming festival. The air was loud and alive.
But as always, eyes shifted when Jalen Creed stepped out of the building.
He walked with that same quiet confidence, tall and composed, blazer fluttering behind him like it was part of the wind.
And then it pulled up.
The Rolls-Royce.
Sleek. Matte black. Polished to the point it mirrored the clouds above.
The door swung open as his butler, an older man with a strict posture and sharp eyes, stepped out and opened the rear door without a word.
Students froze on the sidewalk.
"He really does ride in a Rolls?"
"That's straight-up chaebol energy…"
"Who is this guy?"
Jalen was about to slide in when he noticed Daniel off to the side, walking alone.
"Yo," he called out.
Daniel turned, surprised.
"You walking home?"
"Yeah," Daniel replied. "Bus actually."
Jalen nodded toward the car. "Get in. I'll drop you off."
Daniel hesitated then shrugged. "Sure."
Inside the Rolls was another world. Quiet. Clean. Smelled like cedar and leather. Jalen leaned back, calm. Daniel looked around, slightly out of place but not intimidated.
"You live like this every day?" Daniel asked.
Jalen smiled faintly. "Yeah. But I still gotta work like I'm broke."
The car rolled through Seoul's crowded streets, smooth and silent.
Eventually, they pulled up outside Daniel's place. He stepped out, giving Jalen a nod.
"Thanks."
"No problem," Jalen replied. "See you tomorrow."
The door shut. The car peeled away.
When Jalen got home, he didn't rest.
Didn't even change out of his uniform.
He walked straight to the private gym in the back wing of the house wall-length mirrors, weight racks, custom flooring.
He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself.
This body was still too thin. Still weak.
He could dodge Zack, sure.
But the exhaustion was unacceptable.
Especially with what he remembered next.
The festival.
In the original story…
Gun showed up.
Gun Park.
The man built like a nightmare. Eyes sharp enough to slice steel. The one man who didn't just fight he dismantled.
Jalen clenched his fists.
"If he's showing up… I need to be ready."
He dropped into push-ups. Slow. Controlled.
Then sit-ups.
Then squats.
Every rep a reminder:
You were born to fight.
You just need to rebuild.
And so the night passed in silence.
Just sweat, muscle strain, and a single name echoing in his head.
Gun.