Falcon Corps Dormitory – 6:00 AM
The alarm screamed.
Noah's eyes snapped open—barely. His brain was still booting up when reality punched him in the face.
Brian's training schedule…
Workouts. Meal plans. Timetables.
He stared at the ceiling in silent dread.
I should've run away yesterday.
Then—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Up. Now."
Brian's voice. Too calm for how aggressive the knocking was.
Noah groaned and dragged himself out of bed.
Training Ground B13 – Morning Session
Brian waited downstairs like a military instructor who'd never learned the meaning of "weekend."
When Noah arrived, Brian tossed him a towel.
"Wipe your face. You look half-dead."
Noah did. Still felt half-dead.
As they entered the training hall, Noah saw it was empty—except for one person sitting in the corner.
Veron.
Arms crossed. Smirking.
Noah's stomach dropped.
Of course he's here.
Is watching me struggle his morning entertainment?
Brian handed Noah a printed list.
Jogging. Core drills. Mobility stretches.
Noah blinked. "This looks reasonable."
Brian clapped once.
"Let's go. Fast."
Three minutes in — fine.
Five minutes in — regret.
Ten minutes in — betrayal.
Noah huffed. "We can stop now, right?"
Brian didn't even look at him. "That was just lap one."
Noah's soul exited his body.
After the warmup, Brian led him to the weight section.
Noah stared at the equipment like it was medieval torture gear.
"You expect me to lift that?"
Brian added more weights.
"Yes."
Noah hesitated.
Brian sighed, reached into his bag, and pulled out a sleek tub of protein powder.
Premium. Imported. Probably cost more than Noah's entire old wardrobe.
He shook the tub teasingly.
"If you finish the set, I'll share this with you."
Noah's eyes sparked with hope.
Brian grinned.
"If you don't, I'll drink both servings myself."
Hope shattered.
Noah lifted. Struggled. Saw his life flash before his eyes.
Finished the set purely out of spite.
Brian handed him a protein shake.
"Good. Now do another set."
Noah briefly reconsidered existence itself.
Through all of it, Noah felt eyes on him.
He glanced sideways.
Veron.
Still sitting. Still watching. Still smirking.
Every time Noah faltered, Veron's grin widened just a little more.
"Do you ever blink?" Noah muttered.
Veron's smirk didn't budge. "Watching weaklings is entertaining."
Noah rolled his eyes. Outwardly calm.
Inside?
One day, he thought. I'm wiping that grin off your face.
Eventually, Brian allowed him to stop.
Noah collapsed onto the mat.
His soul had filed for vacation.
But… his legs didn't shake this time.
Yesterday, they had.
It's small, he thought. But it means something.
Chairman's Office – HQ
Chairman Vance sat behind his obsidian desk, fingers interlaced, gaze distant.
Tadashi stood before him, arms crossed.
"What data did Jerome try to steal?"
Tadashi didn't blink.
"According to Harvey, he targeted the Junior Elite Team's internal list… and intel on our gold port shipments."
A pause.
"Looks like Black Mamba isn't bothering to hide anymore."
Vance's fingers tapped the desk in steady rhythm.
"Black Mamba's growing too fast," he said. "They sent a spy right into our base. If we underestimate them, we'll regret it."
Tadashi nodded once.
"I suggest we investigate deeper."
The Chairman leaned forward slightly. "Who do you have in mind?"
"Lee Min-won."
That made Vance raise a brow. "It's been years. Will he even respond?"
Tadashi smirked faintly. "If we offer enough money… he'll come back from the coffin."
Vance's lips curled. Just slightly.
"Call him when you're free."
Then Tadashi shifted the topic.
"I'll begin Noah's combat training next week."
A pause.
"When are you planning to send him to Meridian High?"
Vance's gaze sharpened.
"Let him get stronger first."
Final. No room for debate.
"If we send him now, he'll be devoured by the wolves."
Tadashi nodded. "Understood."
And with that, he turned and vanished into the hallway.
Back in Noah's Room – Nightfall
Noah stumbled in like a corpse dragging itself across the finish line.
His arms trembled. His legs ached. His lungs felt like they'd been used as punching bags.
He dropped onto the bed like a stone.
"Fuck," he whispered. "It hurts. My whole body is trembling. Brian… you're a devil."
His fingers dug into the mattress.
His breath was ragged.
Then—his eyes hardened.
I won't last if I keep breaking this easily.
No.
His jaw tightened. His voice, when it came again, was firmer.
I will get stronger.
Strong enough that I won't need to rely on anyone again.
And then his body finally shut down.
Sleep hit him like a truck.
Time Passed…
Days bled together.
Brian pushed him harder every morning—pacing his runs, drilling his core, testing his limits. No breaks. No sympathy.
Noah's muscles began to take shape.
His movements, once clumsy, grew sharper.
Endurance replaced exhaustion. Memory replaced hesitation.
At night, Lesley and Harvey pushed his mind—feeding him Falcon Corps operations, finance tactics, black-market logistics, and international trade maps.
He was being reshaped—physically and mentally.
One step at a time.
One Night Later
Noah lay on his bed, finally relaxed.
He was winning a racing game on his phone. No mission. No test. Just speed.
Until Tadashi called.
Noah answered without checking the screen.
"Hello?"
A voice, cold and unmistakable.
"Noah. Starting tomorrow, I'll be your combat mentor."
A beat.
"Be ready."
The call ended.
Noah stared at the screen.
Frozen.
Then he whispered:
"…Tadashi?"
His grip tightened around the phone.
Now I have to deal with two devils.
He exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the chill crawling up his spine.
Still holding the phone, he reopened the racing app. Needed something normal. Something easy.
He lined up at the starting grid.
The race began.
Noah pressed forward, fingers tapping the screen.
But his reflexes were slow.
His timing just a hair off.
Halfway through the lap, he knew.
He wasn't going to win.
The final turn came.
He tried to cut inside.
Too late.
The screen flashed.
Final Standings:
1st – ???
2nd – ???
3rd – ???
4th – ???
5th – ???
6th – ???
7th – You
8th – AI
He blinked.
"Seventh place," he muttered.
Once upon a time, he'd been good at games. Quick reflexes. Sharp timing.
Now?
Even virtual races were slipping through his fingers.
His thumb hovered over "Retry."
Then he closed the game.
Not tonight.
Tonight, his body and mind had reached their limit.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow, the real race would begin.