Choi continued anyway.
"He woke me up every day before sunrise. Didn't matter if it was school day, holiday, snow outside, whatever. He put me on the mat and told me to move until I couldn't think. Said people don't wait for slow kids."
Kim blinked.
"…That's… already too much."
Choi didn't stop.
"He made me practice balance for hours. Hitting the same target until my arms went numb. Blocking strikes until my palms bled. He said if my body hesitated once, I'd get beaten for real if I hesitated."
Kim's mouth fell open.
"And," Choi added, "he said I needed to stay calm even when someone is trying to break me. He said panicking is worse than getting hit."
Kim slowly lowered his finger.
"That's not training," he whispered. "That's a childhood arc from a martial arts manhwa."
Ha-rin clapped once, grinning.
"He definitely grew up in a training montage. I bet there was rain. And shouting. And dramatic music."
Kim pointed at her without looking. "Don't encourage him."
