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Your father commended you again as you neared the conclusion of one of your training sessions, saying, "You're getting better and better every day." Yep, you still train a lot, even if you were in the mafia world many years ago.

We basically workout in the "stress reliever room," but that's not how it's called; we simply call it that because it relieves tension or anything else. Your training has not yet concluded, and you are still in the middle of it.

It features a cardboard character standing on the opposite side of the room for you to shoot. There are also a lot of different firearms to pick from, so you may go with whatever catches your eye.

If it's a real person, you fired in the centre of the cardboard, where the heart is situated. Dad, of course, applauded you because he was the one who got you into this mess in the first place. You simply wanted to sleep, but now you're shooting cardboard objects.

"Are you not tired yet, Y/N?" your brother, Jungwon, inquires. "You've been training your ass off for about 3 hours," he exclaimed, stunned.

He claims you've been in this room for three hours, yet it hasn't even been an hour.

"As much as I want to relax, I need to train more so Dad will allow me engage in your battles and whatnot," you stated. Sometimes you wonder, out of all the individuals in the world, why you? "And it hasn't been an hour yet, what do you mean 3 hours?"

You then resumed your training. Thoughts continued to race through your thoughts as quiet descended on the room. Jungwon frowned but did not press his case any more.

Why are you the one who has to deal with this "mafia" organization? You sighed and briefly closed your eyes. It's not that you don't want to be here; it's just that you want to live like a regular human being.

"Earth to Y/N, are you listening?" You regained your composure once your brother spoke again. "It appears you're thinking about a lot of things; would you mind telling me?" Your brother asked, motioning for you to speak up.

"Everything's OK; maybe I'm just sleepy," you say as you resume your work. You shot a few more standees and have finally decided to take a break after all of those training sessions.

"Finally, you chose to relax," your brother replied, a sarcastic tone in his voice. "Come on, let's go have supper; Mom has been waiting for us at the dining table," he said as he drew you to the dining area, where your parents were.

"Good morning, Y/N. Come join us for breakfast," your mother announced. "How was training today?" she inquires, raising a query. This was the routine for every day. Your mother constantly asks you if you're doing well or not after the session.

"Good morning too, Mom. The training went good. I think I'm doing pretty well these past few days." You, of course, was glad about the fact that you were doing pretty decent on the training you had so far.

"That's nice to listen to. Keep practising your skills and maybe your father would let you in the team." Your mother stood up from her seat and went to the sink to place her plate down.

"Thank you, Mom, but I doubt that Dad would let me in the team. He's very protective of me," you frowned upon remembering how your dad used to be so strict of you.

"I'll deal with your Dad's protectiveness over you. I want to see you on the battleground," your mom smiled as she begins to walk upstairs. "Good luck with your school, sweetie." Your mom blew you a flying kiss before finally disappearing upstairs.

And also, did you mention that today is the day of school? You were excited and nervous about finally going to school again. It just feels weird since you were kind of different from other people.

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