CHAPTER NINE
Break Free | 브레이크 프리

⚘( ၴႅၴ

The city hummed with restless energy under the cover of night. Neon signs flickered in rhythmic patterns, their lights bleeding into rain-soaked streets. Inside a dimly lit room, (Your name) sat on the edge of her worn-out couch, a pair of headphones clamped over her ears. Her fingers danced across the knobs of a sleek, compact mixer, the faint glow of LEDs reflecting in her eyes.

The beat she was working on filled the space with a hypnotic rhythm. Layers of melody, bass, and percussion melded together, the sound raw but promising. Music had always been her escape, a place where control was hers and the chaos outside couldn't touch her. Perhaps it was her own mayhem, the chaos doesn't exactly stay outside. But it filters through, reality wasn't often real. It was just another type of imagination.

The sharp buzz of her phone broke her focus. She frowned, pulling her headphones down around her neck. The screen displayed a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey (Your name)! It's Mira, the girl you saved at school?
I'm assuming you haven't saved anyone else, lol.
I just wanted to ask if you'd like to hang out tomorrow? Just chilling with some friends.

(Your name) stared at the message, her fingers drumming absently on the couch. Her first instinct was to ignore it. People didn't just message her out of the blue. Suspicion curled at the edges of her thoughts.

(Your name): Who gave you my number?

Her phone buzzed again, the response quick.

Mira: You gave it to me, remember? 

(Your name) frowned. Right. It sounded plausible, but anyone could name-drop. Her skepticism lingered until another message appeared—this time, a photo.

It was from the day she had saved Mira at school. The photo showed Mira and (Your name) outside the building. (Your name) was sitting on the grass with her mouth open from when she was saying something, and Mira's feet was just able to be seen beneath the picture.

She smirked despite herself. The photo was legit.

Mira: See? It's really me.

(Your name) sighed and typed back.

(Your name): Oh, sure, why not.

The response came back almost instantly, bursting with enthusiasm.

Mira: That's awesome! Is it okay if I bring some friends? They're excited to meet you.

(Your name)'s smirk widened, a rare hint of amusement flickering across her face.

(Your name): Yeah, I'm fine with that.

Mira: Cool! After school? After school.

(Your name) set the phone down, leaning back. She slid her headphones back on, trying to recapture her rhythm, but the moment had passed.

"Why are you grinning like an idiot?"

The sudden voice made her jump. She turned sharply, spotting a familiar figure leaning against the doorway. His thick glasses reflected the light, and his ever-present smirk curled his lips.

"Vin Jin," (Your name) said flatly. "What do you want?"

He strolled in without an invitation, his headphones slung around his neck like a trophy. "Saw the light through the door. Thought you were still making trash beats and figured I'd save you from yourself."

(Your name) crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I don't remember asking for your opinion, Rapper Wannabe."

Vin leaned against her mixer, examining it with mock interest. "You know, you should be thanking me. I could teach you how to make something that doesn't sound like elevator music."

"Right," she said dryly, pushing him away from her setup. "Because the guy who still thinks Skrillex is peak talent is so qualified to give advice."

He snorted, but his grin didn't falter. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today."

"Why's that? Someone finally bought one of your bootleg tracks?"

Vin's smirk twitched. "Cute. See you around, (Your name). Try not to ruin anyone else's ears while I'm gone." He turned, waving a hand lazily over his shoulder as he left.

(Your name) rolled her eyes with a underlying smile and turned back to her bass. The encounter left her restless. She glanced at her phone, Mira's messages still fresh on the screen. Tomorrow could be interesting, she forgot to ask Mira about Daniel's number. She only hoped it wouldn't be a waste of time.

The PTJ pulsed with energy, a cacophony of clashing sounds in motion. The rhythmic thud of punches meeting heavy bags blended with the clang of weights being dropped too hastily. Shouts of encouragement—or discipline—echoed through the wide, open space, amplified by the polished floors and steel equipment. A faint scent of pretentiousness hung heavy in the air.

Marcy stepped through the entrance, her boots clicking softly against the tiled floor. Her sharp eyes swept over the scene, taking in the organized chaos with her usual detached air. She moved through the gym like a ghost, her dark hoodie pulled up just enough to shadow her expression.

Near the entrance, a familiar, towering figure caught her eye. Vasco leaned lazily against a concrete pillar, his massive frame making him look like a human monument. His posture was casual, but his watchful gaze betrayed a quiet readiness.

"Vasco," Marcy called, her tone as casual as her stride. "Didn't expect you to be here."

Vasco turned his head slowly, his expression relaxed. 

"Just checking out what's going on, what about you?" he said, his deep voice rumbling over the gym's noise.

(Your name) stopped a few paces away, her arms slipping into her hoodie's pockets. "I work here."

Vasco's thick brows lifted in mild surprise. "Really?"

"That's why I was with those two guys that night," she added, her voice neutral.

A flicker of understanding crossed Vasco's face. "Ah!" he exclaimed, a smile spreading. "But why'd you leave that night?"

Marcy smirked, her expression teasing as she sidestepped the question. "Want some milk?"

The abrupt shift caught Vasco off guard, but he nodded earnestly. "Thanks a lot."

She chuckled inwardly, amused at how easy it was to distract him. "Come on, let's head inside."

As they walked further in, the air seemed to grow heavier. The usual commotion dimmed as (Your name)'s sharp gaze caught on Duke, a younger trainee standing stiffly near the far corner. His ears were red, fresh piercings glinting in the dim light. The way he fidgeted, his hands clenching and unclenching, set off warning bells in her mind.

Not far away, Daniel loitered, trying and failing to look nonchalant. His posture screamed guilt.

"Daniel..." Marcy called, her voice cutting through the air like a whip.

Daniel flinched, his head snapping up as her cold gaze locked onto him.

"What's this?" Marcy demanded, gesturing toward Duke.

"It's nothing, Marcy!" Daniel stammered, his hands rising in a defensive gesture.

"Nothing?" Her voice rose slightly, sharp enough to make several trainees glance their way. "Don't tell me you wanted this."

(Your name) glanced towards to Duke, kneeling in front of him, and held him by the shoulders. 

Duke let out small sputters of surprised but ultimately tried to hide his gaze away from her. If (Your name) wasn't observant she would miss the small quiver of his pout. 

She stood up and glanced at Daniel, who held his words. He wanted justice for Duke too, and felt very responsible for bringing him here in the first place.

I never should've let him join too.

"Daniel."

(Your name) rapidly walked towards him.

"(Your name)!" Vasco warned hastily.

They were face to face and Daniel was confused, intimidated, and knew the weight on his shoulders. And how ferocious (Your name) eyes were on him. It called - You should've done something, you know that right? You had the assets.

Vasco's hands curled into firsts. He couldn't say anything as well.

Before Daniel could stammer out another excuse, the manager strode in, a thin stick gripped tightly in his hand. He barked at a trainee nearby, raising the stick threateningly. The trainee froze, his wide eyes darting to (Your name) as if pleading for intervention.

(Your name)'s glare turned icy, pinning the manager in place. She stepped forward, her tone calm but brimming with authority. "Drop it. Now."

The manager hesitated, but something in her gaze made him lower the stick.

Meanwhile, Vasco moved behind Daniel with silent purpose, locking his massive hands around the smaller man's shoulders.

"Vasco," (Your name) said evenly, "do what you want with him. Don't hold back."

"No!" Duke's shout broke the tension. His voice cracked as he stepped forward, his eyes wide with desperation.

(Your name) turned to him, her tone softening. "Duke, listen to me. You don't have to let anyone treat you like this. If you stand your ground, they'll respect you. That's your power."

Duke hesitated, his trembling hands clenched into fists, as if searching for courage in her words.

Above them, on the second floor, someone watched the unfolding drama with keen interest. Their face remained obscured by shadows, but a cruel grin curled their lips as their eyes followed (Your name)'s every move.

Duke stood a little taller, though his eyes still held uncertainty. (Your name) watched him for a moment longer before sighing and stepping away, her hands slipping into her hoodie pockets.

Vasco followed her, his towering frame casting a long shadow as they walked toward an empty section of the gym. The din of weights and grunts resumed around them, but in this corner, it felt quieter.

(Your name) wiped the blood from her nose. Huffing as she stood up, walking over the fainted body on the floor.

"That was impressive," Vasco rumbled, leaning against the wall and folding his arms.

(Your name) arched a brow, glancing up at him. "What? Handling the bastards? Barely a bone broken."

"Not that." Vasco shook his head slightly. "The way you talked to Duke. The way you got him to stand up for himself. That's not easy to teach, especially or him."

(Your name) shrugged, her gaze drifting to the rows of punching bags swaying gently in the distance. "I've been there before. Feeling powerless, like you can't control what happens to you. Sometimes, all it takes is someone showing you that you can."

Vasco nodded slowly, his dark eyes thoughtful. "That why you're strong?"

She chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "Strong? The world will still keep on turning, Vasco."

 Vasco's voice was quiet now, his usual laid-back demeanor giving way to something more introspective. "I used to think being strong just meant being the biggest, toughest guy in the room. Used to hate it but..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "Turns out, it's not just about muscles. It's about protecting people, even when it's hard."

(Your name) tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "So that's why you do it? Stay strong for others?"

Vasco gave a small nod, his gaze distant. "Yeah. My crew, my friends—they count on me. If I'm not strong, who's gonna stand up for them?"

A faint smile tugged at (Your name)'s lips. "Guess we're not so different."

He glanced down at her, his towering presence almost comical next to her smaller frame. "What about you? Why'd you start fighting?"

She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms as she considered her answer. "Because I had to, dad had to teach me how it's like. Life doesn't give you a choice sometimes. You fight, or you lose everything." Her voice was calm, but the weight of her words lingered in the air.

Vasco nodded, understanding unspoken between them. "It's tough, though. Carrying that weight all the time."

"It is," (Your name) admitted, her tone softening. "But it's worth it. Because when you're strong, you can make sure no one else has to carry it alone."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds filled the silence between them, but it felt less chaotic now—almost peaceful.

Finally, Vasco grinned, his usual easygoing demeanor returning. "Is that why you left that night?"

She rolled her eyes but smirked. "Want some milk?"

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine, and for a brief moment, the weight they both carried felt just a little lighter. But she could see from Vasco's shoulder Daniel and Duke talking, and she remembered where she was.

The owner's office was a stark contrast to the gym's chaos—dimly lit and quiet, the atmosphere heavy with authority. (Your name) sat across from the man, her posture rigid and her arms crossed.

"Good morning, (Your name)," the owner greeted, his voice calm but deliberate.

"No disrespect," (Your name) began, her voice razor-sharp, "but I'm not working in a place where the manager acts like that."

The owner leaned back in his chair, studying her with an air of mild amusement. "And who exactly are you to make such demands?"

(Your name) leaned forward, a sly smile playing on her lips. "I'm just someone who values principle over power. From my experience, not many people have the guts to stand for what's right."

The owner chuckled softly. "Fair enough. I'll look into what happened with the managers. My apologies for the trouble."

Before she could respond, a voice came from the shadows of the room. "Don't think I didn't recognize you."

(Your name)'s head snapped toward the corner, her eyes narrowing as a man stepped into the dim light.

"You," she said coldly, her tone low and dangerous.

"Yes, me," he replied with a slight smirk. "(Your name)... is this really what you want?"

"What's it to you?"

"I know your father," the man said, his tone suddenly grave.

(Your name) stiffened, her sharp eyes narrowing further.

"I fought him once," the man continued, stepping closer. "You're strong, (Your name). But strength alone isn't enough in a world run by men like Charles Choi."

"What are you getting at?"

"I want you on my side," he said, his voice steady and persuasive. "Your father, Charles Choi, the world you're in—they control you. I can help you break free."

Behind the office door, Vasco stood silently. He listened, his jaw tight, as the storm brewing inside reached a boiling point.