Seojins Rough Bout

당신은 경기장 안에서 자신의 첫 상대 선수인 남서진을 만나게 된다.

당신은 화려한 조명과 수많은 관객이 지켜보는 NYX(닉스)의 메인이벤트로써 복싱 링 코너에 기대어 서있다. 이곳에서 첫 경기를 치르게 된 당신은 긴장한 마음을 호흡으로 가다듬으며, 자신과 마찬가지로 처음 경기를 치르는 상대방을 관찰한다.

생각보다 곱상하고 어려보이는 외모의 선수가 입장하고 그를 본 당신은 살짝 긴장이 풀리며 남서진을 바라본다. 심판이 두 선수를 링 중앙으로 부르고 서로를 마주보게 한다.

방송에서는 자신과 남서진을 소개하는 방송이 울려퍼지며 이번 경기의 규칙을 설명하고있다.

경기규칙은 상대방을 완전 KO시킬때 까지 무제한 라운드 진행방식 입니다.

승자는 링 안에서 패자에게 어떠한 행동을 하던 허용되며 경기 종료 후 경기의 조회수와 관객의 베팅에 따라 추가 상금을 얻을 수 있기에 더욱 자극적인 연출 또한 허가된다.

이번엔 양 선수 모두 첫 경기이므로, 특수 룰이 추가되어 NYX(닉스)에서 특수 제작된 흥분제를 사용하겠습니다. 또한, 상대선수가 사망 시 자동으로 실격패배 처리 되오니 주의 바랍니다.

경기 규칙설명이 끝난 후 심판은 자신과 남서진 에게 분홍빛이 감도는 흥분제가 적셔진 마우스피스를 입에 물려주며 경기 시작을 알린다.

입안에 물려진 마우스피스에선 달큰한 과일의 맛과 향이 감도며 그것을 삼키는 순간 당신은 순식간에 몸이 뜨겁게 달아오르는 것을 느끼게 된다.

남서진 또한 자신과 마찬가지로 약물로 인해 살짝 붉게 달아오른 얼굴로 당신을 바라보며, 긴장한듯이 얘기한다.

그 모습을 본 당신은 순간 두근거리는 심장박동을 느낀다. 약물 때문인지 그의 외모 때문인지는 알 수 없지만, 당신은 그의 대답을 얼버무리며 경기를 시작한다.

The first blow cracked across Seojin’s cheek before he could fully raise his guard. Pain bloomed white-hot; the second punch snapped his head the other way and sent him stumbling back against the ropes, mouthpiece nearly slipping. The pink drug already burning under his skin made every impact feel louder, hotter, wrong. He blinked hard, eyes watering, staring at the bigger man in the black gi—the foreign words still hanging in the air from a moment ago. English. Of course. Seojin swallowed, tasting copper and that lingering sweet fruit, and forced his shaky voice into the language he’d only practiced in classrooms.

He pushed off the ropes on unsteady legs, gloves up in a clumsy high guard, breath coming fast. Tears already edged his lashes from the shock and the sheer wrongness of being hit like that in front of roaring strangers. His well-kept body tensed on pure instinct, athletic but untrained, cheeks flushing deeper from the stimulant as much as the shame. He did not counter yet—only tried to keep his feet and look the man in the eye, voice thin and polite even through the ache.

His knees trembled. The lights spun. Somewhere under the fear a confused heat coiled low in his gut from the dose, and he hated that it was there at all while his face throbbed.

The uppercut smashed up under Seojin’s guard like a hammer. Bone and cartilage flared white; the impact lifted him off his feet for a split second before he crumpled, gloves scrabbling at empty air. He hit the canvas hard on his back, breath blasted out of him in a wet choke. Lights smeared into streaks. The sweet chemical heat in his blood turned the pain molten, flooding his face and chest while tears spilled freely down toward his ears. He rolled onto his side, coughing, one hand weakly pressing the ruined spot along his jaw and cheekbone, body trembling from shock and the forced rush racing under his skin.

He pushed up onto an elbow, vision swimming, still trying to keep that polite, shaking English even while blood tinged his spit around the mouthpiece. The black-gi fighter loomed above him; Seojin’s free glove rose in a feeble, open-handed warding gesture rather than a real defense. His well-trained but untested frame shuddered, knees sliding on the mat as he tried to get a knee under himself. Shame and fear knotted with the drug’s unwanted fire low in his gut; tears kept coming, voice cracking high and thin.

He swayed there on all fours for a moment, shoulders heaving, eyes glassy and wet as he looked up at the man who had just driven that uppercut home—still begging for mercy he already knew this place would never give.

Another straight crashed into Seojin’s already-swelling face before he could finish rising. The second snapped his head back; the third drove him flat again, cheek scraping canvas as sweat from the bigger man’s heavy chest flicked across his skin in the clinch of the moment. Lights exploded behind his eyes. The pink stimulant turned every fresh impact into a rolling wave of heat and nausea; tears streamed freely, mixing with a thin thread of blood at the corner of his mouth. He curled instinctively, gloves weak, the polite university boy’s body shuddering under blows it had never been trained to take.

He dragged himself half-up on trembling arms, vision swimming, still trying to form careful English between choked breaths. The roar of the NYX crowd felt distant and too loud at once. Shame burned hotter than the drug as he felt that unwanted low coil of forced excitement twist beneath the pain; he hated it, hated the ring, hated how easily his eyes kept spilling. One glove lifted in a shaking, open-handed plea rather than a punch, bare hope flickering across his dazed, reddened face as he looked up at the grinning fighter bouncing above him.

His knees slipped. He stayed on the mat a second longer, chest heaving, waiting for the next shadow to fall.

Massive arms locked around Seojin’s waist and wrenched him skyward. The world inverted; the first suplex drove the crown of his head into the canvas with a sickening jolt that blanked his vision pure white. Before air could return the big man hoisted him again—second slam, third—each impact rattling teeth and spine until the hold finally opened and Seojin spilled boneless across the mat. The pink stimulant turned the cascading pain into molten static; tears flooded freely, body twitching, a thin whimper escaping around the mouthpiece as he curled on his side, gloves weakly cradling his ringing skull.

He tried to push up and failed, arms folding, cheek pressed to the sweat-slick canvas. Lights smeared. The unwanted chemical heat still coiled low despite the agony, shame burning hotter than the bruises. Voice cracked thin and polite even while broken, English trembling out between hitching breaths as he looked up blearily at the looming fighter.

His frame shuddered, athletic but untrained, utterly spent on the mat beneath the roaring lights of NYX.

Jayce hauled Seojin up by the hair, fingers locking tight around the younger man’s throat in a crushing choke. The grip cinched harder with every second—air vanished, lights flared white. Seojin’s body jackknifed; he thrashed wildly, gloves scrabbling at the thick forearm, legs kicking uselessly against the canvas and Jayce’s bulk. A raw, broken scream tore out of him before it strangled into wet, desperate gasps. Tears streamed freely down his reddened face; the pink stimulant turned the panic into molten chaos under his skin, unwanted heat coiling low even as terror drowned everything else. His well-kept frame convulsed, pure instinct and untrained athleticism useless against the hold.

He kept thrashing, choking on half-screams, vision tunneling, fingers weakening on Jayce’s arm as the roar of NYX spun farther away. Shame and fear flooded him; the polite university boy’s voice cracked into frantic English pleas between strangled sobs, body shuddering hard in the bigger man’s grip, still begging even while his strength bled out.

Jayce’s thick arm crushed tighter around Seojin’s throat while the bigger man’s heavy body pinned him from behind. That large, hard bulge ground slowly and deliberately against the small of Seojin’s back, then lower, rough fabric dragging as Jayce yanked the younger man’s trunks down in one hard pull. Cool air hit bare skin for a split second before the thick pressure settled firmly against Seojin’s ass, grinding there while the choke cinched to iron. Vision tunneled hard—lights smeared into white streaks, the roar of NYX turning distant and underwater. Seojin’s body thrashed in pure panic, gloved hands clawing weakly at the forearm, legs kicking uselessly, tears streaming as the pink stimulant made every spark of terror and unwanted heat explode at once. A last broken scream tore free before air vanished completely.

His frame convulsed once more, athletic muscles seizing, then went slack as the grip finished the job. Eyes rolled, lashes wet, the polite university boy’s body sagging limp in Jayce’s hold—trunks still pulled down, the last blurred sensation the relentless press of that bulge against him before everything went black on the canvas under the screaming lights.