Sam again.

Chapter 3 - Confrontation

The café was only half full when they stepped inside. Soft music played in the background, and the smell of coffee mingled with the scent of baked bread.

Mike didn't wait for Eve to choose. He glanced around once, then pointed toward a quiet table near the window.

"There," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Eve raised her brows slightly at the directness, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She walked over and sat down without any resistance. Mike took the seat across from her, leaning back casually.

A waiter approached. Before Eve could speak, Mike ordered for both of them.

"One iced americano, one caramel latte. And two croissants." He looked at Eve. "That okay with you?"

She tilted her head and looked at him. "You're taking charge." Her fingers circled her hair slowly.

"Someone has to," Mike replied evenly.

Eve let out a soft laugh. "Most guys hesitate forever."

Mike looked at her wth a slight smirk; he had learned the consequences of putting a woman on the pedestal. He once tried to change himself for a girl, and what that brought back to him was humiliation, betrayal. No, he had decided not to let anyone play with him ever again.

The drinks and food arrived a few minutes later. Eve held her latte and looked at him over the top of the cup.

"So," she said, "what really brought you to S-University? You don't look like the usual first year."

Mike took a drink of his coffee. "I wanted a fresh start. People at the old place thought they knew me."

Eve's eyes lingered on him. "And now?"

"Now I let people earn my trust."

There was a short silence. Eve leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on one hand. The movement made the neckline of her top shift, drawing his eyes for a brief moment. She observed, but didn't cover up.

"I like how confident you are," she said softly.

Mike met her eyes. Without thinking, Silver Tongue activated, making his voice sound smoother and more confident.

"You approached me first," he said. "That already told me enough. Girls like you don't walk up to someone unless they're interested… or bored."

Eve's lips curved. "And which one do you think I am?"

"Interested." Mike's voice stayed steady. "Bored girls don't hold eye contact this long."

"Confident, aren't you?" She leaned back.

"Am I wrong?" Mike said.

A faint flush touched her cheeks, but she didn't look away. Instead, she smiled wider.

She smiled. "You really know what to say."

Mike shrugged. "Only when I mean it."

Eve laughed softly and shook her head, but there was clear enjoyment in her expression. She took another sip of her drink, then set it down.

"We're going to a club near campus tomorrow night," she said. "Come with us."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "You inviting me?"

"I am." She pulled out her phone and slid it across the table toward him. "Give me your number. I'll send you the location."

Mike took the phone, typed his number in, and handed it back. Their fingers brushed for a second longer than necessary.

Eve saved the contact, then looked up at him with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Don't disappear on me, Mike."

He leaned back in his chair with a small smile.

"I won't."

[Ding! Mission Progress: 15%]

***

The gym was still mostly empty when Mike walked over to the heavy bag. He wrapped his hands, tightened the straps, and started punching.

Thud!

Left jab.

Thud!

Left jab.

WHAM!

The final cross drove the heavy bag backward.

At first, he punched slowly. Then they grew heavier. Sharper. Each impact echoed through the large room like a gunshot. Mike's breathing stayed controlled, his eyes locked on the bag.

Sweat soon covered his arms and forehead, but his expression never changed. There was no anger on his face—only cold focus. In that moment, nothing else existed. Just him and the bag.

One by one, athletes started entering the gym. The heavy, rhythmic thuds made several of them slow down and turn their heads. A few stopped walking completely. Within minutes, a small circle of boxers and trainees had formed at a distance, watching the newcomer who hit the bag as if it had personally wronged him.

Mike didn't notice any of them.

Then Sam walked in.

He was laughing about something with two other guys until he noticed the group standing still. He pushed through the circle, and when he finally saw who was hitting the bag, his expression twisted.

Mike.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he watched the punches. The speed. The weight behind each strike. The clean form. It was better than what he remembered—better than what it should have been. A flicker of unease crossed his face before he forced a mocking grin.

"Well, look who finally showed up," Sam called out loudly, making sure everyone heard. "The twenty-three-time first-round loser. What's this? Trying to impress people now that you snuck in through the scheduled-area quota?"

A few awkward chuckles came from the crowd, but most stayed quiet, still watching Mike's fists slam into the bag.

Mike didn't stop. He didn't even glance over. Another heavy combination landed—jab, cross, hook—each one louder than the last.

The door opened again. Coach Darren walked in, towel over his shoulder, and immediately frowned at the unusual crowd. His eyes followed their gazes until they landed on Mike. He watched for several seconds in silence, arms crossed.

Sam's grin stiffened.

"You hear me, loser? Still deaf from all those early knockouts you took?"

Before he could continue, Coach Darren's voice cut through the gym.

"Everyone. Gather up."

The athletes moved quickly. Mike finally stopped, took off his gloves, and walked over to join them. He stood quietly, sweat dripping from his jaw.

Coach Darren looked around the group, then rested a hand on Mike's shoulder.

"This is Mike," Darren said, looking around the room before his eyes settled on Sam. "Whatever you've known about him before, forget it."

He let the silence hang for a moment.

"He didn't get into S-University because of a quota. He fought his way here, knocking out every opponent in the regional tournaments before doing the same thing at our trials. That's why he made the team."

The coach's voice grew firmer.

"As of today, he's one of the main contenders for the National team selection."

The gym went completely quiet.

All eyes turned to Mike as a few athletes exchanged shocked looks and whispered to each other. Right before their eyes, the image of the "loser with twenty-three first-round losses" began to fall apart.

Sam stood frozen. The color drained from his face for a moment before he forced a stiff, disbelieving smile.

"That's bullshit," he said, louder than necessary. "There's no way. Him? National team contender? Coach, you're joking."

Coach Darren just stared at him.

"I'm not."

Silence settled over the room. No one looked away from Mike. Athletes exchanged quiet glances as Darren's words sank in, and little by little, the way they looked at him began to change. Sam noticed it too, and it stung.

Sam clenched his fists at his sides before speaking. His voice was tight.

"Fine. If he's so good now… then he won't mind proving it." He stepped forward, eyes locked on Mike. "I challenge you to a bout. Right here. Let's see if any of that is real."

Now everyone was looking at Mike's face.

[Ding!]