Episode 2

The next day at school, Kang Joon-Ho’s body ached from where Min-Suk had slammed him against the lockers. His uniform was wrinkled, his books scuffed, and the faint glow of Rank 1 on his wrist felt brighter than ever, as if mocking him in front of everyone.

Every step through the crowded hallway reminded him of where he stood in this world—beneath everyone else. Students with glowing ranks in the thirties and forties passed by without even glancing at him. Those in the sixties and seventies strutted with arrogance, their laughter sharp as knives.

Joon-Ho kept his head low. He wanted to disappear.

But inside, the fire from the night before hadn’t gone out.

The memory of the underground Rank Battle clung to him like a dream he couldn’t shake. The roar of the crowd, the way the victor’s rank had climbed, the desperation in the eyes of those who fought—stirred something dangerous in him.

What if I entered? The thought wouldn’t leave. What if I fought? What if I won?

It was ridiculous. He was Rank 1. Even a Rank 5 could probably crush him in seconds. Still, the temptation lingered. For someone who had spent his whole life powerless, the idea of controlling his fate—even for a moment—was intoxicating.

---

During lunch, he sat in the far corner of the cafeteria, picking at cold rice. Across the room, Min-Suk laughed loudly with his crew, slapping the table as if the whole world belonged to him. Students gathered around, desperate for his attention.

Soo-Jin entered quietly, her tray balanced in her hands. She scanned the room once before heading toward Joon-Ho’s table.

“Can I sit here?” she asked softly.

Joon-Ho nodded, though shame burned in his chest. He hated that she was seen with him—Rank 1. He hated the whispers that followed her whenever she sat down beside him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, lowering her voice. Her eyes lingered on the bruise near his collarbone.

“I’m fine,” Joon-Ho muttered, not meeting her gaze.

“You’re not fine,” Soo-Jin said firmly. “You shouldn’t let Min-Suk treat you like that.”

Joon-Ho laughed bitterly. “And what am I supposed to do? I’m Rank 1, Soo-Jin. I can’t fight him. I can’t fight anyone.”

She hesitated, then whispered, “That’s not true.”

He looked at her, startled. But before he could ask what she meant, Min-Suk’s voice cut across the cafeteria.

“Look at this—our favorite low-rank trash and his babysitter.”

Laughter followed. Joon-Ho’s fists clenched under the table. He wanted to shout, strike, to do something—anything. But he stayed silent, his jaw tight.

Soo-Jin’s expression darkened, but she said nothing. The secret Min-Suk had hinted at still hung between them, unspoken.

After school, Joon-Ho avoided going straight home. Instead, his feet carried him back to the alley he’d discovered the night before.

The crowd was smaller this time, but the energy was the same—charged, hungry, violent. Two fighters clashed in the ring, their movements quick and brutal. One was Rank 28, the other Rank 31. Every punch, every strike, every gasp of the audience was a reminder of what Joon-Ho didn’t have.

Strength. Courage. Freedom.

He lingered at the edge, unnoticed among the shadows. His heart pounded as the fight ended with a knockout, the victor’s rank flickering upward by one point. The loser groaned on the pavement, his number dropping.

“Another win for me,” the victor shouted, arms raised. The crowd roared. Money changed hands. The atmosphere was electric.

A man in a dark leather jacket moved through the crowd, collecting bets and announcing the next fighters. His voice was loud, commanding.

“Next up—Rank 40 versus Rank 42! Place your bets now!”

Joon-Ho couldn’t look away. He felt trapped, like the ring itself had pulled him into its orbit.

He imagined himself inside, fists raised, fighting not for glory but for survival. The image was absurd, but it refused to leave.

“Thinking about joining?”

The voice startled him. Joon-Ho turned to see a man leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was tall, muscular, with sharp eyes that seemed to see straight through him. A faint glow on his neck revealed his rank: 53.

“I—I’m just watching,” Joon-Ho stammered.

The man smirked. “That’s how it starts. Everyone here is ‘just watching’ at first. Then they realize watching doesn’t change anything. Fighting does.”

Joon-Ho swallowed hard. “I can’t fight. I’m… Rank 1.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Rank 1, huh? That’s rare. Usually, people like you don’t last long out here.”

Shame burned in Joon-Ho’s chest. He wanted to walk away, but the man’s gaze pinned him in place.

“You’ve got fire in your eyes,” the man continued. “That’s good. But fire without strength burns out fast. If you’re serious about climbing, you’ll need more than anger.”

Joon-Ho’s heart pounded. “Climbing… Do you think I can?”

The man chuckled. “Everyone can. Most don’t. The question is—how much are you willing to risk?”

Before Joon-Ho could answer, the crowd erupted again as the next fight began. The man gave him one last look before melting back into the shadows.

Joon-Ho stayed until the final match ended, his mind spinning. The temptation was stronger now, gnawing at him with every passing second.

---

That night, lying in his small room, Joon-Ho couldn’t sleep. His mother had left early for her night shift, leaving him alone with the hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of traffic outside.

He stared at the ceiling, the glow of 1 faintly illuminating the darkness.

What if I tried?

The thought was louder now. Dangerous.

What if I fought? Even just once?

He imagined Min-Suk’s mocking face, Soo-Jin’s worried eyes, the smirks of every student who had ever looked down on him. Rage bubbled in his chest.

He sat up, fists clenched.

“No… I can’t live like this forever,” he whispered.

For the first time, Kang Joon-Ho wasn’t just dreaming of change. He was considering action.

---

The next day after school, he returned to the alley. The crowd was smaller, the fights less intense, but the ring still pulsed with energy.

As he watched, the man from before appeared beside him again, as if waiting.

“Back so soon?” the man asked with a smirk.

Joon-Ho hesitated, then forced the words out. “I… I want to try.”

The man studied him for a long moment, then laughed. “You’re serious. Alright, Rank 1. But remember this—once you step into the ring, there’s no going back. Win, and you climb. Lose, and you fall even lower. For someone like you, that could mean… nothing left.”

Joon-Ho’s throat went dry. He thought of his mother, of Soo-Jin, of the years of humiliation he had endured. He thought of Min-Suk’s voice calling him trash.

“I’m not afraid,” Joon-Ho lied.

The man’s smirk widened. “Good. Then welcome to the world of Rank Battles.”

The crowd stirred as the man announced the next fight. Joon-Ho’s heart hammered in his chest as all eyes turned toward him.

“New challenger!” the man bellowed. “Rank 1 against Rank 5!”

Gasps and laughter rippled through the crowd. Some jeered, others shouted encouragement, but most shook their heads. Rank 1 had no chance.

Joon-Ho stepped into the ring, his legs trembling. The glow of his 1 felt brighter than ever under the harsh lights. His opponent, Rank 5, sneered at him, already smelling victory.

The crowd roared.

And for the first time in his life, Kang Joon-Ho raised his fists.

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