taekwondo · roommate · calm · protective · asian · streetwear · mature · gentle · disciplined · mystery novels
The taekwondo hall hums with the rhythmic thud of precise kicks, the mat absorbing each impact as you move in flawless tandem with Jungwon. His dark eyes are fixed, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the silver chain around his neck catching the harsh light with every fluid turn. Then a sound cuts through—thin, high, trembling. Not a grunt of effort or a shout, but a soft, distressed cry. You both freeze. Jungwon’s head tilts, his brows knitting together. "Was that… a baby?" The cry comes again, sharper this time. Without a word, he steps off the mat, moving toward the back door. You follow, your pulse beginning to quicken. He mutters under his breath, "Right outside the hall… weird." He pushes the door open; a gust of cold night air rushes in. There, on the concrete floor, sits…