The morning at Hwarang High felt charged, like something big was about to happen. The auditorium was packed, the polished floors glinting beneath banners celebrating past martial arts champions. Students filled the seats, their quiet chatter buzzing around like static. Groups of club members huddled together—Taekwondo in their neat doboks, Judo with their heavy belts, Boxing with taped hands—each group buzzing with excitement. Today was a big deal. The Martial Arts Committee had promised a huge announcement.

  At the front, a giant screen lit up with the Committee’s fancy logo. The lights dimmed and the crowd quieted down. Jin Hae-Won, the Taekwondo Club captain, stood near the stage with his team. His bck belt was tied just right, and he wore a confident grin. He leaned over to his vice-captain and whispered, “This is it. Our chance to make history.”

  In the back row, Baek Seung-Ho was fast asleep, his head resting on his arms. His dirty white belt peeked out from under his bzer. He snored softly, completely unaware of the buzzing crowd beside him. His cssmate, Kang Soo-Jin, the css president, sat next to him, arms crossed and looking irritated. She shot him a gre but kept her eyes on the stage.

  The screen changed, and Ms. Park, the Committee representative, appeared. With her tight bun and piercing gaze, she commanded attention right away. “Students of the best martial arts academies in South Korea,” she said, her voice firm, “today is a historic moment. The Martial Arts Committee, along with global federations, announces the Inter-High Emperor Trials.”

  The crowd erupted in cheers with fists pumping, buoyed by excitement. Jin’s grin spread wider, his eyes shining. Soo-Jin quickly took notes, her pen scratching away. Baek didn’t budge.

  Ms. Park raised her hand to silence the crowd. “This tournament is a chance for fighters in every discipline—Taekwondo, Judo, Boxing, Muay Thai, Hapkido, and more—to compete for the title of Emperor in their style. But one of you might achieve something even greater: the title of Unified Emperor, the first ever to master multiple forms and bring the martial world together.”

  Surprised gasps rippled through the room. A Unified Emperor? It was a legend usually talked about in whispers. Jin clenched his fist, ambition swirling in him. The Boxing Club captain nudged his team, already discussing sponsorships. Even the usually stoic Judo team shared excited looks.

  Ms. Park continued, her tone steady. “The Trials start with school qualifiers, then regionals, and nationals. Winners will gain fame, schorships, and a chance to represent Korea on the global stage. But be warned: the world is watching. International champions are already on their way to challenge you.”

  The screen changed to highlight reels—Taekwondo masters breaking boards, Judo experts flipping opponents, a Muay Thai fighter delivering a solid elbow. Each clip made the crowd roar with excitement.

  Baek’s snoring got louder, causing annoyed looks from those nearby. Soo-Jin finally elbowed him. “Wake up, idiot,” she hissed, “this is important.”

  Baek opened one eye, yawning. “Sounds like a lot of work,” he mumbled, then tried to get comfy again.

  Soo-Jin’s face flushed in annoyance, but the assembly ended just then. Students rushed out, buzzing with excitement and strategies. Jin gathered his Taekwondo team outside, his voice carrying above the crowd.

  “Hwarang High will crush this,” he decred, his team nodding in agreement. “We’ll produce not just one, but several Emperors. No other school can measure up.”

  A younger member, a freshman with a brand-new yellow belt, raised his hand. “What about Baek? The one who beat Min-Suk? Should we bring him in?”

  Jin frowned. “Baek Seung-Ho? He’s just a zy guy who got lucky once. Not worth our time.” His team ughed, but the freshman seemed unsure, gncing toward the school building.

  Inside, the hallways were nearly deserted, with the chaos from the assembly contained to the courtyard. Baek had slipped away, finding a quiet spot in an empty cssroom. He id on a desk, his head resting on his backpack, one earbud in and bsting anime music. The room was dim, dust floating in the sunlight. His white belt was draped over the edge of the desk, catching the light.

  The door creaked open, and Baek looked up, half-expecting a reprimand from Soo-Jin. Instead, Principal Kim, a wiry man with silver hair, stepped in. His suit was sharp, but his eyes had a sharpness that suggested he saw more than he let on.

  “Sleeping again, Seung-Ho?” Principal Kim said lightly, though his tone carried a hint of seriousness. He leaned against the door.

  Baek sat up slowly, pulling out his earbud. “Didn’t feel like cheering for a tournament I’m not part of,” he replied ftly.

  The principal chuckled, but his gaze stayed firm. He walked closer, stopping by the desk. “You missed an important announcement. The Trials could change lives—fame, opportunities, a chance to make your mark.”

  Baek shrugged, leaning back. “Not my thing.”

  Principal Kim’s expression softened into something more serious. “How long will you hide behind that white belt? You’re not fooling everyone.”

  For just a moment, Baek’s carefree facade cracked, meeting the principal’s gaze. “As long as I need to,” he said quietly.

  The principal studied him for a moment, then nodded as if he understood something. “The world doesn’t wait for those who hide,” he said, turning to leave. “Think about that.”

  When the door shut, Baek was left alone. He stared at the belt, tension in his jaw. The principal’s words echoed in his mind, stirring memories he wanted to forget. Shaking his head, he plugged his earbud back in. “Old man rambles,” he muttered, but unease lingered.

  By afternoon, the school was buzzing with prep work. Club rooms were full of energy—captains barking commands, members running drills, whiteboards filled with strategies. Yuna Seo moved through the activity, filming snippets for her channel. Her test video about the “Ghost Belt” had gotten over ten thousand views, and her inbox was full of tips. She’d wanted to talk to Baek today, but he had vanished after the assembly.

  In the Taekwondo dojo, Jin led an intense practice. His kicks sliced through the air with precision, sweat dripping down his forehead. “The Trials are ours,” he told his team fiercely. “No mistakes, no weaknesses. We carry Korea’s pride.”

  Over in the Judo Club, they practiced throws while the Boxing Club shadowboxed, their punches creating a rhythm in the gym. Even the smaller Hapkido Club, often overlooked, worked hard to perfect their joint locks. The Trials had sparked a fire in Hwarang High, and no one wanted to feel left out.

  Yuna stood by the courtyard, uploading a clip of Jin’s training. Her phone buzzed with a message from her contact: Park Ji-Hoon’s student is at your school. The Committee’s watching him closely. Be careful. Her heart raced. Baek was the key, and she needed to talk to him right away.

  She spotted Ms. Park by the school gate, her businesslike attire stark against the students’ uniforms. Yuna hesitated, then approached, her camera off but her mind analyzing everything.

  “Ms. Park,” Yuna said, keeping it casual. “Big day, huh? The Trials sound tough.”

  Ms. Park turned, maintaining a cool demeanor. “Yes, Ms. Seo. A moment for skilled fighters to shine.” Her eyes moved toward the courtyard. “Not everyone will rise to the occasion.”

  Yuna saw a chance. “Like Baek Seung-Ho? People talk about him. That courtyard fight was crazy.”

  Ms. Park’s expression stiffened. “Talent without discipline gets wasted. The Committee values those who respect the system.” She adjusted her file, revealing the bel Baek Seung-Ho: Unranked for a second. “Keep filming, Ms. Seo.”

  Yuna watched her walk away, her thoughts racing. The Committee didn’t just care about Baek—they were worried about him. She needed to find him.

  Baek had no pns to be found. He’d made his way to the school rooftop, his usual escape, but it felt too open today. Instead, he ducked into the old storage shed behind the gym, a forgotten part of campus overgrown with weeds. Sitting on a rusty bench, he scrolled through his phone, trying to focus on an anime episode, but couldn’t.

  Principal Kim’s words gnawed at him. How long will you hide? He had spent years flying under the radar, sticking to his promise to Master Park: no belts, no ranks, just the fight. But the world kept calling—Min-Suk’s challenge, the Committee’s attention, the whispers about the Ghost Belt. He hated the pressure of expectations that had never been his choice.

  Footsteps crunched on the gravel, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Ms. Park walking toward him, her heels sinking slightly into the dirt. Her file was tucked under her arm, and she looked all business.

  “Baek Seung-Ho,” she said, stopping a few feet away. “Can we talk?”

  Baek stayed seated, pretending to be disinterested. “No thanks,” he said, still looking at his phone.

  Ms. Park’s voice sharpened. “The Inter-High Emperor Trials are a huge opportunity—fame, resources, a chance to impact the martial arts scene. The Committee thinks you might have potential, even with your unique style.”

  Baek snorted, pausing his video. “Potential? I’m just a guy with a white belt. You’re looking at the wrong person.”

  Her expression turned serious. “You’re more than you show. The courtyard incident proved that. Join the Trials, Seung-Ho. The Committee can help you find a path—structure, recognition, purpose.”

  Baek caught her gaze, his eyes hard. “I don’t need your help or recognition.” He stood up, grabbing his backpack. “Find someone else.”

  He brushed past her, his white belt swaying. Ms. Park watched him leave, fingers tightening on her file. “You can’t run forever,” she called after him, but he didn’t look back.

  That evening, Incheon International Airport buzzed with noise and fshing lights. Reporters crowded the arrivals gate, cameras ready. A murmur went through the crowd as a figure stepped from the terminal, commanding attention.

  Yuuji Ryang, fifteen years old, moved like a warrior. Dressed in a bck leather jacket, his dark hair slicked back, his sharp eyes surveyed the scene. A duffel bag hung from his shoulder, and a scar traced his jaw, hinting at past battles. The crowd parted, sensing something special.

  “Yuuji! Yuuji Ryang!” a reporter shouted, thrusting a microphone at him. “Why are you in Korea? Are you here for the Emperor Trials?”

  Yuuji paused, scanning the crowd. His steady voice quieted the chaos. “I’m here for one person only.”

  The reporters exploded with questions, but Yuuji lifted a hand to silence them. “The Ghost Belt,” he said, the name hitting hard. “I’ve come to find him. And when I do, everyone will see what he’s truly capable of.”

  He moved on, the crowd scrambling to keep up. Behind him, a digital billboard fshed the Committee’s logo and the words: Inter-High Emperor Trials: The Future of Martial Arts Begins.

  Back at home, Baek sat against the couch, his white belt coiled beside him. The TV pyed an anime fight, but he wasn’t focused. His phone buzzed with a message from Yuna Seo: Baek, we need to talk. I know about the Ghost Belt. Meet me tomorrow.

  He deleted the message, a grim look on his face. Life was closing in. Master Park’s words echoed in his thoughts: Feel the fight, Seung-Ho. But what if the fight wasn’t just in the ring? What if it was against the world itself?

  He picked up his belt, tracing the embroidery with his thumb. “Not yet,” he said softly, more for himself than anyone. “Not yet.”