WHY AM I CRYING ?

I woke up in a daze, my chest heavy with humiliation. I forced a wry smile and turned to the owl.

"I was just going easy on you earlier. Come on, let's go again!"

The owl looked a bit confused but still accepted my challenge. It soared through the sky, where the sun was finishing its shift, making way for the moon. I lay there on the cool, fragrant grass, watching the sunset paint the sky red. The day was fading, so I softly said to the owl:

"Let's go home, it's getting late."

I staggered to my feet and walked alongside the owl for a while. Exhaustion made me breathe heavily, each step feeling heavier than the last. At the crossroads, I waved goodbye, watching the owl disappear into the night. As for me, I dragged my weary body home.

Once inside my room, I collapsed onto my bed, too drained to even think about dinner. Mom was probably working the night shift, as always. Lying there, I recalled my training with the owl. Thirty matches in total, and it had won more than twenty. Humiliating, yet somehow, I felt a hint of pride. I had no idea how the owl felt, but inside, I was torn. Part of me was happy that it had grasped the basics of wrestling, but another part was bitter—I had barely won. Did I even deserve the title of "president"? The leader should be the strongest…

I bit my lip in frustration and sat up, shaking off my fatigue. Push-ups, sit-ups, kickboxing drills… I glued my eyes to the screen, watching every movement, every technique in the tutorials online. But everyone taught differently—I didn't know which to follow.

I couldn't waste time anymore. I rushed to the backyard, searching for a wooden post or anything that could replace a punching bag. My eyes landed on the support pillar of the house. Perfect. Taking a deep breath, I pictured it as one of those lowlife thugs.

Time to begin!

BOP! BOP! I fired a series of jabs and crosses. Then came my left hook, followed by my right—a new move I had just learned. The left hook was simple: keep the arm at a right angle and swing fast. But the right hook was trickier; I had to rotate my hips just right or I'd lose power. I kept punching.

THUD! THUD! The impact echoed through the house, making the roof tremble.

Then, I decided to practice kicking. At the moment, the only kick I knew was a roundhouse to the left side, but it was better than nothing. I kept going, again and again, until my hands swelled, my skin peeled, and some spots even bled. My right leg throbbed, but I ignored the pain, stubbornly striking the pillar.

That night, I couldn't sleep. Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, replaying thousands of scenarios, hundreds of punches, dozens of kicks—ways to counter Kiên.

But no matter how I imagined it…

The result remained the same.

Both the owl and I—utterly defeated.

Frustrated, I pushed aside the negative thoughts and buried myself under the blanket.

"Where did you learn those pathetic moves, you freak?" Kiên sneered.

He kicked me straight in the head, then spat on my hair. I was terrified, lying sprawled on the ground, powerless. I could only search for help in the eyes of the people around me.

In the crowd, I saw the owl.

It rushed to my aid… only to be beaten half to death.

They dragged me to the balcony.

They tried to strip me.

I clenched my clothes tightly, but that only made them angrier. They even talked about killing me.

The Muay Thai fighter stepped forward.

BOP! A sharp kick to my left side made me curl up, crying in pain and fear.

Kiên pounced on me, beating me relentlessly.

A right hook sliced through the air, heading straight for my face—

RING RING RING RING RING!!!

I shot up, gasping for breath. Huff… huff…

Just a nightmare.

But I was so terrified that I dreamed about them.

I quietly got up and looked at myself in the mirror.

Enough.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my clothes, grabbed my books.

TIME TO GO TO SCHOOL.