Chapter 6

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Destroy. Defeat. Deceive.

Taehyung scanned his partner's black-clad form for weaknesses he could exploit. Right now, during the heat of the match, was the only time he gave free rein to the base, selfish instincts he battled daily. And it felt so fucking good.

No matter how hard he fought against it, at his core, he was just like his dad. The badness had been passed down in his blood.

He shoved and went for a head shot. When his partner's sword rose to block the strike, Taehyung pushed for that extra burst of speed and arched his weapon down. The tip of his sword cracked against his partner's side.

Clean point. Match over.

Everyone bowed and set their swords on the blue matted floor before kneeling. Taehyung hated this part of class, not because it meant practice was ending, but because it was time to remove his armour and return to his normal self.

This was the beauty of apparel. A suit transformed you into a certain kind of person. A T-shirt, a different kind of person. Black nightmare armour that hid your face behind an ominous metal cage, yet a different kind of person. The gear weighed thirty pounds, but he always felt lighter when he wore it.

As he shed layers, cold air touched his skin, and reality crept back into his head. Heavy thoughts stacked one upon the other like bricks, returning him to his regular burdened state. Responsibilities and obligations. Bills. Family. His day job. His night job.

After class officially ended, he put his gear in its place on the shelf along the back wall. Space was tight as fuck with five guys in the cramped changing room, and he didn't feel like waiting around, so he slipped his uniform off in the hallway. Nothing half the women in Seocho-gu hadn't already seen.

Two high school girls giggled and hurried into the women's room, and he rolled his eyes as he yanked a pair of jeans over his boxer briefs. Kim Taehyung: now serving half the women in Seocho-gu plus two.

"We're probably going to have a bunch of new girl members next week now," said a voice Taehyung recognized as belonging to Taeyang, Taehyung's cousin and sparring partner.

"I'll let you teach them their strikes," Taehyung said as he retrieved a wrinkled T-shirt from his duffel bag and straightened

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"I'll let you teach them their strikes," Taehyung said as he retrieved a wrinkled T-shirt from his duffel bag and straightened.

"They might be disappointed."

"Whatever." He yanked his shirt on, trying and failing to ignore their contrasting reflections in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall.

Lots of girls went for Taeyang. With his buzzed head and the dense tattoos covering his arms and neck, he rocked that badass Asian drug lord image. You wouldn't guess he was paying his way through business school while helping his parents at their restaurant. Taehyung, on the other hand, was a pretty boy.

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