Seoul buzzed with life.
Jalen strolled through the streets, tall and lean, dressed in casual designer wear that whispered wealth without screaming it. His pale blue jacket fluttered slightly in the breeze, drawing eyes as he moved past cafes, clothing stores, and packs of uniformed students on their way home.
Whispers followed him like shadows.
"Wow, he looks like an idol…"
"Is he a model?"
"Look at his face must be rich. Look at those shoes."
"Tch. Pretty boy."
He didn't mind.
He was used to attention. In his past life, it came from fear. Now it came from awe. Same energy, different flavor.
But underneath the calm exterior, he was analyzing everything the way people carried themselves, how the crowd moved, how teenagers looked at status more than strength.
"This world runs on image," he muttered to himself. "Good. I can use that."
Then he heard it.
Laughter. Shoving. A familiar whimper.
Jalen turned the corner into a narrow alley behind a convenience store and saw him.
Daniel Park.
The fat version.
He was hunched over, arms shielding his head while two older students kicked at his sides.
"Come on, piggy, oink for us again!"
"You should be grateful we're giving you attention, tubby!"
Daniel didn't cry out. He just took it.
Jalen stepped forward without thinking.
"Hey."
The bullies turned.
One scoffed. "What, you wanna be next, pretty boy?"
"Not really," Jalen said, rolling his shoulders. "But I don't like seeing garbage pile up in the streets."
The first swing came fast.
Jalen ducked.
His right hand shot forward jab, cross, hook. Clean strikes. Precise.
One bully dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
The second rushed him.
Jalen shifted low inside leg trip, mount, choke hold.
Technique over strength. The moves were perfect. His timing flawless.
But his body… wasn't.
His arms trembled. His breath came fast. His heart pounded too early.
By the time both bullies scrambled away, moaning and limping, Jalen was gasping, drenched in sweat.
Daniel stared at him, wide-eyed.
"You okay?" Jalen asked, wiping his forehead.
Daniel nodded, stunned.
"You should fight back someday," Jalen said, stepping past him. "Or not. Up to you. Just don't let them break you."
He didn't wait for a reply.
By the time he got back to the penthouse, his body was screaming. Every muscle felt like it had been dipped in fire. He collapsed on the couch, heart still thudding.
Weak. Too weak.
But he smiled.
Because even in this pathetic body, his mind remembered. The Phantom hadn't gone anywhere.
Alphonse approached quietly, holding out a towel. "Rough first outing, sir?"
"You could say that," Jalen muttered, drying his face.
"I took the liberty of preparing your uniform again. J High begins tomorrow."
Jalen stood, muscles shaking slightly.
Tomorrow was the real start.
Not a fight. Not yet.
Just observation.
Learning.
Mimicking.
And then… evolution.
"Let's give 'em a show," he whispered, staring out the window at the glowing city.