Reality Quest: Lookism

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The sun beat down harshly on the Bongcheon-dong construction site. It was a scene of chaos turned desolation, littered with tools and abandoned machinery. Ji Baek-chang leaned back in his creaking chair inside the makeshift office, his trademark unsettling smile plastered across his face. His unbuttoned shirt revealed tattoos etched across his chest, a stark contrast to his eerily calm demeanor.

Before him stood Cho Il-seok, his towering right-hand man. Cho's expression was as stone-cold as ever, his sharp features unyielding. The tension between the two was palpable as Cho gave his report.

"We still haven't dealt with them." Cho said flatly, his deep voice carrying an edge of frustration. "For the past week, these guys have been hitting us at random. Night, day, it doesn't matter. They come out of nowhere, masked, and leave just as quickly after beating our men senseless."

Ji Baek-chang closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. His fingers massaged his temples. "How many have we lost?"

"Too many." Cho admitted. "Not permanently, but we're losing control. Businesses aren't paying because we can't protect them. Every guy that gets taken out wakes up broke, shoes, wallets, clothes. Even food. It's like these two are scavenging."

Ji Baek's fingers stilled, veins bulging across his forehead as his irritation grew. "They're taking their money and their food? You're telling me they're not just some kids looking for kicks, they're goddamn scavengers?"

Cho nodded grimly. "It seems that way."

Ji Baek shot up from his chair, slamming his hand against the desk. "So, let me get this straight. I'm running out of men, out of resources, out of time, and all because of two clowns with masks?!" His voice rose to a snarl.

"They're good." Cho said simply. "Too good. It's like they're not even human with the way they fight. And one of them…he's stronger than anyone I've seen. It's like he's built for destruction."

Ji Baek sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He leaned against the desk, his smile now twisted into a grimace. "Fine. I will report this to him, we need backup before we lose everything. I won't let some masked idiots turn Bongcheon-dong into a joke."

....

Meanwhile, the metallic clang of iron tools echoed through the vast emptiness of a junkyard, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing in Bongcheon-dong. Jin stood in the center of the yard, adjusting the heavy iron weights strapped across his chest, arms, and legs. Each step he took left indentations in the gravel below, a testament to how much weight he carried.

"Focus." he barked at Dowan, who was mid-kick but struggling to maintain his balance.

"I am focusing!" Dowan shot back, gritting his teeth. His kick lacked strength and precision, wobbling slightly.

Jin shook his head. "No, you're surviving. Not the same thing." He strode over, his movements controlled despite the weights. "You need to push past your limit. Come here."

Dowan hesitated but obeyed, wincing as Jin grabbed his leg and began to stretch it upward, far beyond what seemed natural.

"Stop! Stop! I'm gonna snap in half!" Dowan cried, his voice cracking.

"You won't snap." Jin replied flatly, pressing harder. "This is what it means to improve. If you're comfortable, you're doing it wrong."

Dowan grumbled but didn't resist further, enduring the pain as Jin continued stretching his limbs. Over time, the gripes and complaints became fewer, replaced with gritted determination.

Nearby, a collection of iron tools and steel bars lay scattered, each bearing deep, unmistakable fist-shaped imprints. Jin's knuckles were visibly hardened, showing the results of relentless training. His physique was lean yet powerful, every muscle compact and honed. He stood taller than before, his transformation subtly noticeable but impactful.

Dowan, on the other hand, had lost his scrawny frame. While still far from Jin's level, his newfound confidence and improved posture hinted at significant growth. He wasn't whining nearly as much, and his movements were starting to reflect the discipline Jin demanded.

"Again." Jin ordered, stepping back.

Dowan planted his feet and kicked, the motion stronger and smoother this time. The sound of his foot cutting through the air was sharp.

Jin raised a brow, nodding slightly. "Better. But not good enough. You're pulling back at the last second. Commit to it. If you're gonna kick, do it like your life depends on it."

Dowan exhaled sharply, resetting his stance. "I'm trying, okay? This isn't exactly natural for me."

Jin smirked. "It wasn't natural for me either. You think I came out of the womb kicking trees and breaking steel? No. I trained, just like you're doing now."

Dowan glanced at the fist-marked steel bars nearby, then back at Jin. "Yeah, but I doubt you ever struggled this much."

Jin shrugged, rolling his shoulders. "Everyone struggles. Difference is, I don't let it stop me. Neither should you."

The two continued training until the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the junkyard. By the time they were done, Dowan was drenched in sweat, his legs trembling with fatigue.

"Call it a day?" Dowan asked hopefully, practically swaying on his feet.

Jin tilted his head, considering. "Yeah. For now. But tomorrow, we're doubling the intensity."

Dowan groaned, dragging himself toward the exit like a zombie. "Why do I do this to myself…"

Jin watched him go, smirking to himself. He could see the changes in Dowan, not just physically, but mentally. The kid was growing stronger, slowly but surely.

As Dowan disappeared into the distance, Jin cracked his knuckles and turned back toward the tools, ready for his own late-night session. Training never stopped, not for someone like him.

....

As the sky turned darker, the faint glow of the moon lit the junkyard, casting an eerie sheen over the metallic surfaces. Jin stood in the center, breathing steadily as he tightened the straps of his weights. His eyes scanned the scattered pieces of steel and iron bars lying around him, remnants of his brutal training sessions.

With a sharp exhale, Jin launched a powerful roundhouse kick against an upright steel beam. The clang echoed across the junkyard, the vibrations traveling up his leg. He winced slightly but didn't stop. Instead, he adjusted his stance and repeated the motion, each kick harder than the last.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

His bare foot was red and raw, but the pain was familiar. It wasn't just about strength; it was about conditioning, pushing his body beyond its limits.

"Just one more." Jin muttered to himself, though he'd been saying that for the past thirty minutes. He pivoted and executed a flawless spinning kick, his foot slamming into the steel with such force that the beam bent slightly.

Sweat dripped down his face as he caught his breath. "Tougher. Faster. Stronger." he repeated under his breath, almost like a mantra.

He stepped back and began a set of calisthenics. Grabbing a thick steel bar nearby, he pulled himself into a perfect muscle-up, his weighted body defying gravity. The weights strapped to his limbs made each movement agonizing, but Jin's expression remained calm, almost meditative.

He transitioned into hanging leg raises, the weights pulling him down with every lift. His core screamed in protest, but he refused to stop. The repetition became a rhythm, his breathing syncing with each movement.

After finishing a set, Jin dropped to the ground and moved toward a discarded car door leaning against a pile of junk. He placed his fists against the metal and began punching it methodically. The first few hits left shallow dents, but as he built momentum, the imprints deepened, shaping the steel like clay.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Jin's knuckles turned raw, the skin splitting slightly, but the sight only fueled his determination. He shifted into a stance and started delivering straight punches, each blow accompanied by a sharp exhale.

When the car door was mangled beyond recognition, he turned to a rusted washing machine. Using it as a makeshift pull-up bar, he leaped up and started doing explosive pull-ups, his chin soaring above the bar with each rep. The machine creaked under his weight, threatening to collapse, but Jin's focus never wavered.

The weights on his body turned even the simplest movements into a grueling challenge. Push-ups with his hands balanced on jagged steel. One-legged squats with a refrigerator handle for balance. Burpees with a heavy iron rod across his shoulders.

Hours passed, and the moon climbed higher in the sky. Jin finally stopped, his chest heaving as he rested against a mangled steel beam. The junkyard was silent except for the sound of his heavy breathing.

He pulled up his system panel, wiping the sweat from his brow as the familiar blue screen materialized before him.

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[CHARACTER INFORMATION]

Name: Jin Lee

Class: Iron Reaper

CURRENT STATS

HP: 2800/2800

MP: 560/560

Attack Power: 215

Defense: 193

Agility: 217

Mentality: 150

Credits: 10,530

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Jin smirked as he read the stats. "Not bad." he muttered, closing the panel. The numbers reflected the relentless effort he'd put in, but for Jin, they were just milestones. The real satisfaction came from knowing he was shaping his body into a weapon.

He glanced at his knuckles, now calloused and reinforced. They were a testament to his journey, proof of his resolve. Stretching his shoulders, Jin picked up his gear and slung it over his back. It was time to head home.

The walk back was quiet, the cool night air soothing his tired muscles. As he made his way through the streets, Jin's mind wandered to the fights yet to come. He knew the bully council wouldn't stop, and neither would he. A grin spread across his face.

"Bring it on." he whispered to himself, his voice filled with quiet confidence.

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1627 words.