NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

[PART II]

Sara_León: Your thighs tremble resting on my shoulders. My trembling arms keep holding them. The small crystals also dig into my thighs, into my butt, and I grimace in pain. I tighten my grip on your thighs, I have you under control, finally. My head completely spins for a second, and I quickly come back to reality. I am still losing blood. I still feel the aftertaste of alcohol on my face, I can barely hear anything through my left ear, where you hit me with the kendo stick, just a faint ringing. I can hardly move my neck, from when you tried to apply the hurricanrana on me, bending your hips and twisting it when I remained still. The situation is horrible. But you are mine. Slowly, I bend my knees, planting my boots on the mat, and begin to rise, without letting go of your thighs. The crowd begins to boo as you start to lift up, left hanging from your legs, upside down and vertically. My movements are heavy, but I manage to stand up, and then I pull you upward letting out a desperate scream, releasing your thighs at the same time that I wrap my arms around your abdomen, pressing you hard against me and dropping back down seated onto the mat again, trying to drive all your weight vertically against the canvas, seeking to crush your skull against it in a brutal piledriver

Hana_Jeong: As you force yourself up, my world tilts completely. My legs hang uselessly over your shoulders, glass biting into the back of my thighs, into my hips. My arms wrap weakly around your tights, fingers digging in, elbows folded tight as if holding on to you could somehow save me. Everything is upside down. The lights blur. The crowd becomes a distant ocean of noise. And the blood… it rushes to my head. I feel it pooling there, hot and thick, pouring down my face, dripping from my hair toward the mat below. My vision pulses red. My temples throb violently. I sob openly now, chest hitching, breath breaking in small, desperate gasps. I know. I know what you’re about to do. There is no way out. My body is too battered. My back is shredded. My strength is gone. For a second, I stop fighting it. “Be brave, Hana…” I whisper to myself through trembling lips. In the front row, I see faces. Some fans cover their eyes. Some look down. Some freeze, hands pressed to their mouths. They know. They all know. Then I feel you scream. And we drop. I let out one final, piercing cry— And then a brutal, vertical spike. My skull driven into the canvas. The world explodes into white. Then nothing. Absolute black. My body folds awkwardly from the force, momentum carrying me forward. I slide off you and collapse belly-down on the mat, arms limp at my sides, fingers twitching once before going still. Blood spreads beneath my face. Tiny shards of glass cling to my skin, embedded across my back, my shoulders, my legs. My hair is soaked, sticking to my cheeks. I don’t move. I don’t even breathe visibly for a moment. Just a broken, blood-covered body lying in front of you.

Sara_León: -BWWOOOOOMMM!!!- The entire ring shakes when we both fall. I see you collapse, broken and useless, face down on the canvas, while the boos become unbearably intense, crushing my spirit. I get dizzy again for a few seconds, the whole ring spinning around me. I can’t move my neck, blood runs down my forehead, my neck, my back. I start crawling toward you, and the glass dust digs into my hands. When I touch your body, it’s burning, soaked in blood and sweat, but completely limp, motionless. I think about pinning you, but the idea of you breaking it again is so exasperating that I decide to go for something safer. The submission that broke you the last two times. The dizziness returns, I stagger and fall at your side. One second, two, three... And I shake my head, pushing myself back up, on all fours. You’re so close... I’m so close... I just have to... I straddle your lower back, sliding my left arm over yours. You offer no resistance. My right arm then goes over your throat, and I pull it upward, forcing you to lift slightly. And then I try to clasp both hands at the height of your left shoulder, dropping to the side and taking you with me, pressing my back against your immobilized left arm and finally trying to submit you with my terrible crossface chickenwing!

Hana_Jeong: Pain pulls me back. It drags me up from the darkness like someone ripping me out of deep water. Air crashes into my lungs and I scream before I even understand why. My vision is blurry. The lights above me look wrong. The mat feels wrong. Your arm hooked around mine. Your other arm across my face. That pressure. That horrible, twisting pressure. The crossface chickenwing. The same hold that sent me to the hospital. Terror floods me instantly. My eyes go wide and I look around like a trapped animal, trying to understand where I am, what’s happening. Your blood is mixing with mine. I can feel it. Warm. Sticky. Our faces almost touching. Your breath shaking against my ear. “Don’t quit, Hana…” I beg myself. But what comes out of my mouth are broken screams. Pure agony. My shoulder burns. My neck bends sideways in a way it shouldn’t. Glass grinds under my cheek every time I move. You pull tighter. I feel my body starting to give up again. I press my palm against the mat. It slips in blood. I plant it again, fingers digging into the canvas through the glass. I push my hips down instead of up, flattening my chest against the mat so you can’t roll me deeper into the hold. Then I start crawling. Not forward. Sideways. Inch by inch. I drag both of us toward the ropes, using my legs, pushing with my knees even though the glass cuts into them. Every small movement sends a shock of pain through my shoulder, but I keep going. You try to pull me back. I roll suddenly toward my trapped arm instead of away from it. It feels wrong. It feels dangerous. But it forces your grip to loosen for half a second as your weight shifts underneath me. That is enough. I twist my hips violently and kick my legs backward, hooking one of your legs with mine and rolling through, turning my body across yours instead of under you. We tumble awkwardly. Your grip breaks. I rip my arm free and scramble forward on pure instinct, collapsing against the bottom rope, clutching my shoulder to my chest.

Sara_León: You’re not giving up. I can’t believe it. You twist beneath me, you move, you crawl. I just hit you with a piledriver with all the strength I had left. You were broken, you were defeated. Why won’t you quit? I tighten my hands on your shoulder, wrenching your arm, your neck, pressing my forearm against your face. You moan desperately, but you don’t stop moving, you don’t give up. My heart starts pounding hard, with anxiety. Victory slips through my hands like sand. Every movement of yours drags me over the glass dust on the canvas, creating hundreds of small stabs of pain. Everything hurts, my vision is blurred, parts of my body are useless, and then you manage to break free... And I fall to the canvas, lying there for a few seconds. A gag rises up my throat, the ring flips for me for a moment, and I regain my senses. I see you against the bottom rope and I crawl toward you, letting out groans of pain with every step. But I don’t go straight to you... I slip under the rope and drop down to ringside, where my hand reaches the South Korean flag. I grab it and slowly stand up, looking at you with a horrible emptiness in my eyes. I approach you, still supported by the bottom rope, and try to cover your face with your own flag, attempting to wrap it around your neck and start pulling from both sides, trying to suffocate you

Hana_Jeong: I barely see you leave the ring. My shoulder throbs. My head is ringing. I’m slumped against the bottom rope, half-conscious, tasting iron with every breath. Then I see the color. Red. Blue. White. My flag. My stomach drops. You slide back in, and before I can even react, the fabric slaps across my face. It smells like sweat, like blood, like the outside air. And then it tightens. It tightens hard. The cloth digs under my jaw, across my throat. You pull. “AARRGGGGHHH—!” The sound that rips out of me doesn’t even sound human. My hands claw at the fabric but my left arm barely works. My vision explodes into sparks. The pressure crushes my windpipe, cutting off the little air I had left. Foam mixed with blood bubbles from my mouth, soaking into the flag as I gasp and choke. My eyes bulge. My feet kick wildly against the mat, heels drumming uselessly at first. The crowd noise becomes distant again. My lungs burn. Instinct takes over. I stop clawing at your hands. Instead, I let my upper body go slack for half a second. My hips shift. I slide lower against the rope so my back is more flat on the mat, even as you keep pulling. My feet search blindly — and then find you. Your stomach. Your hip. With the last bit of coordination I have, I draw both knees up, planting the soles of my boots against your abdomen. My body trembles violently. Blood runs from my mouth down my chin. And with a desperate, guttural scream, I thrust both legs forward as hard as I can, trying to kick you away from me — trying to break the tension of the flag around my throat before everything goes dark again.

Sara_León: I clench my teeth and all the features of my face as I tighten the flag. You writhe like a fish out of water. The referee looks at me with concern, and I throw her a warning look so she doesn’t come closer. This brushes the limits of what is permissible even in a no DQ. The entire crowd insults me, screams at me, boos me. The blood runs down my tense arm, my muscles at their limit, and I feel my unfocused gaze lit with rage, hatred and desperation. "SUBMIT, HANA!! SUBMIT FOR FUCK’S SAKE!! STOP FIGHTING!! IT’S OVER!! SUUUUBMIT!!!" My voice gives everything it has left, already hoarse, while I feel you weakening. And then... "UUUGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Your boots crash against my abdomen, and I am sent flying backward, releasing the flag, curling up in pain, lying on my side in a fetal position, clutching my stomach, groaning and almost sobbing. No tears come out, but I wish I could cry. I want to get up and I can’t. I gave it everything, and I couldn’t beat you. I don’t know what else to do. But I can’t stop. I begin to move my arms again, trying to get up and falling again with each attempt, moving far too slowly, but searching for you with my eyes, my face a horrifying mess of blood, sweat and alcohol

Hana_Jeong: For a second… there’s silence inside my head. You’re not on me anymore. Air rushes back into my lungs in ragged, wet gasps. I roll to my side, coughing violently. The flag lies beside me, soaked red. My throat feels flayed open from the inside. But you’re down. And in the middle of all that agony… A tiny spark of hope. It flickers inside my chest like the weakest flame. What I endured during this match is nothing compared with what you did with my life. And you’re the one shaking now. I drag myself under the bottom rope and spill onto the apron, my body barely responding. The world is tinted red — not metaphorically. Blood runs into my eyes and everything I see swims in crimson. “There’s nothing left…” I whisper to myself. But there is. There has to be. I pull on the top rope and somehow stand, swaying. My legs tremble like they might snap. I look down and see you at ringside, trying to push yourself up, collapsing, trying again. Your face is a mask of blood and fury. We don’t even look human anymore. We look like wounded animals refusing to die. My eyes drift. A trash can. It’s dented. Stained. I don’t think. I just grab it. You’re moving toward the apron, reaching for the edge of the ring, trying to climb back up. With a warlike cry that barely qualifies as a shout, I hurl the trash can at you with whatever strength my arms have left. The impact echoes hollow and metallic. The recoil alone nearly drops me to my knees. I groan, clutching my ribs, vision swimming again. My shoulder screams in protest as I bend down, fingers brushing cold steel. A chair. My hands shake as I pick it up. Every muscle protests. My breathing is uneven, wet. We are no longer competitors. No longer women. Just instinct. Just pain. Just survival. I can’t stand anymore. My knees give out and I slump onto the apron, half hanging, half lying there. After a second, I roll off completely, crashing down to ringside beside the wreckage of metal and glass. I barely manage to pull myself up

Sara_León: -CLANNNKKKKKKK!!- The trash can IMPACTS my head head-on, without missing. The sound of metal echoes inside my head. I hear something crack in my neck when my head snaps back from the blow. Everything turns white, blurry. I’m not even aware that my body is collapsing against the floor as if I’d been shot, completely limp. I only hear my breathing. I hear chants, cheers, very faintly. My head hurts terribly, and I can’t move my neck at all. I cough, choking on my own saliva, unintentionally spitting into the air. And then I manage to roll onto my side, ending up sideways, and I see you lying beside me. A part of me screams that I can still do it, that you’re worse off than I am. And, against everything my body is screaming at me, I grab the ring apron and begin trying to pull myself up again. The dizziness immediately returns, and I press the fabric of the apron against my face, squeezing my eyes shut tightly, trying to focus and continue

Hana_Jeong: I see your fingers clutching the apron. You’re still trying to rise. Even after the trash can. Even after everything. My vision swims with tears and blood. My throat tightens. Why won’t you just stay down… I feel nothing like victory. Nothing like satisfaction. Just a hollow emptyness. Like I’m chasing something that isn’t there anymore. My hands loosen. The chair slips from my fingers and crashes to the floor beside us. “This… is too good for you,” I rasp, voice shredded and low. My gaze drifts. I look at the referee. Her belt. Black leather. and metal buckle. She freezes when I reach for it. Shock in her eyes. But she doesn’t resist when I yank it free from her waist. The leather slides against my bloody hands. I wrap part of it around my fist, tightening until my knuckles blanch under the blood. You’re still pressing your face into the apron, trying to stand. I step behind you. Raise my arm. And whip. CRACK The metal end bites into your back. Your body jolts violently against the apron. Again.CRACK Your shoulders arch, fingers clawing fabric. Again. CRACK. I feel it reverberate up my arm, the impact traveling through leather into bone and muscle and skin. Again. CRACK. You’re barely upright now, legs shaking, body folding. One more. The buckle lands across the same torn flesh, and you sag, hanging from the apron like a broken puppet. My chest heaves. My arm trembles, belt still raised. “This is what you did to what I felt for you,” I breathe, voice cracking under the weight of years. “For everything you did to me…I HATE YOU”

Sara_León: With each blow... I feel less. My body reacts with spasms, instinctively. I notice myself sliding downward, losing all strength, feeling that metal sink into my flesh. My body begins to refuse to send signals of pain, as if it were oversaturated. My only energies to get up disappear completely, collapsing fully onto the floor, with my whole body visibly trembling, blood and bruises all over my back now as well. Flares of terrible and intense pain suddenly begin to appear, and I know I am bleeding from them. I rest my cheek against the floor with broken breathing, hair over my face, and I can see you when you shout at me. How right you are... I feel each blow in my flesh as a price to pay for my mistakes, and it seems too little to me. Tears gather in my eyes but refuse to come out. And then you shout that you hate me... and at last you break that barrier. Water gushes from my eyes like a newly released torrent, as if it had been stuck for a long time without being able to flow. I do not whimper, I only shed tears, upon hearing you say it. That is the terrible truth I did not want to face, but which is liberating in a certain sense. That deep hatred for my betrayal... I have managed to allow you to express it, not only with words, but physically. I know I deserve it.... But it hurts like a dagger slowly twisting in the heart. I move my hands, but I realize they are only trembling pieces of flesh without strength, barely useful to try to wipe away the tears. I do not move otherwise. I cannot either...

Hana_Jeong: I stand over you, chest heaving, vision pulsing at the edges. Your tears glisten through the strands of hair across your face, and for a second everything feels distant… muffled… like I’m underwater. But then I really look at you and all the noise comes rushing back. My boot nudges something cold. Metal scraping concrete. I glance down. The steel chair. Slowly… deliberately… I drag it closer with the side of my foot until it rests right in front of us, the legs screeching against the floor. My breathing is loud, ragged, almost feral now. There’s no more shouting. No more words. Only the end left. My hand drops into your hair. I grab a thick fistful at the crown and yank you upward. Your body comes with me like dead weight — knees barely catching under you, head lolling forward, tears still streaking through blood and sweat. You don’t fight. You can’t. You just hang there in my grasp, trembling. My other hand clamps into the waistband of your spandex trunks at your hip, fingers digging in to keep you standing. I pull you into place… turn you… guide you with rough, mechanical movements until you’re bent forward in front of me. Your head lowers directly over the open steel chair seat. For a heartbeat I pause there — both of us swaying, your hair spilling down toward the metal, my arms hooked around you, breath crashing in and out of my lungs. This is it. I hook your arms. My grip tightens. And with the last surge of hatred and exhaustion left in my body… I jump and drive you down. Your head and upper body spike violently into the steel chair with a sickening metallic crack that echoes through the arena floor. My knees slam down after you, straddling your back as the chair skids and rattles beneath the impact. For a moment I stay folded over you, shaking, forehead almost touching your back, hands still locked from the Pedigree as if letting go would make this unreal.

Sara_León: I feel the tug on my hair and my body rises, face down... But my muscles do not respond. My arms hang down at my sides, part of my hair creating two curtains at my sides. With every pull you give, drops of tears and blood drip onto the floor from my face. I feel my whole body trembling, and suddenly you close your thighs around my head. My legs want to give in, but the terrible pain in my neck makes me keep my feet on the ground, trembling violently. You slide your arms between mine, and my back arches, noticing how my hands hang downward with my arms raised over my back. Your thigh presses on my neck and shoulder wounds, and new flashes of pain run through my body. I feel that this is not necessary at all, but I cannot even complain, only feel how you squeeze my body, how you chain me and prepare me to destroy me completely. And then... -CLANKKKKK!!- My face rushes downward, smashing against the chair, the metal digging unevenly into my features, and my skull cracking once more, shutting off my senses almost completely. I remain there lying, face down, with my arms still hooked behind my back, breathing out of obligation and already completely out of the fight, without strength or will to move again, barely even conscious, made a mess of blood, sweat and tears, with shards of glass all over my body, my neck useless and finally completely dazed, a simple toy in your hands

Hana_Jeong: My chest is burning. Every breath cuts inside. I feel light and hollow, like my body has lost too much of itself. The blood loss is catching me. The world tilts around me. For a moment I cannot even hold my head up. I let it fall forward, resting against your lower back. Your skin is warm despite everything. Beneath the iron smell of blood there is still that faint, sweet scent that always clung to you. It hits me without warning. A memory breaks through the haze. Tokyo. That tiny hotel room. Too much alcohol. Both of us laughing, collapsing onto your bed, me sprawled over you just like this. Careless. Close. Before everything shattered. I blink hard and the present crashes back. The referee is near us, hands hovering, voice tense. I choke on a sob and shake my head. “I’m… ok.” My voice is wrecked. I do not let her touch you. I know what has to come now. There is only one end left. For them. For you. I roll away and crawl toward the apron. My fingers hook under it and I drag out the table. It scrapes slowly across the canvas. My arms tremble under the weight. Panic rises in my throat. I stare up at the top turnbuckle. Am I even able to do this anymore. The thought repeats, loud and ugly. I turn my head and my eyes meet Mizuki in the crowd. She is already shaking her head at me. No. Do not do it. I swallow and answer her in silence. I have to. Even if it breaks me. I set the table in place with shaking hands. Then I reach for the Spanish flag at ringside. I wipe my face with it, smearing blood and sweat across the fabric. Dark stains spread over the red and yellow. The crowd erupts when I drape it over the table. I limp back to you and grab your ankle. Your body slides across the mat with dead weight. I hook my arms under your armpits and haul you up. When I see your face my heart stutters. Sara is almost gone beneath the damage. Swollen. Bloodied. Unrecognizable.

Hana_Jeong: I lean close to your ear. My voice drops to a broken whisper. “It will end soon. I promise.” My hand cracks across your cheek with the last strength I have. I guide and push until your body falls onto the table. One arm slips off the side and hangs loose. You do not react. I look up. The top turnbuckle feels impossibly high. Like a mountain. I climb anyway. Slow. Unsteady. My foot misses once and I nearly fall. The arena swims below me. I reach the top and turn. You lie still on the table. No movement. No defense left. I remember Mizuki’s voice from years ago. Breathe. Find the center. I pull air into my lungs and hold it. Control. Focus. I press a kiss to my right wrist. If this goes wrong, maybe I will see my parents again. I rise to my feet on the turnbuckle. Balance shaking. Arms spreading. The noise of the crowd stretches into a distant roar. Then I jump. My body curls and turns, carving the moonsault through the lights. For one suspended instant there is only silence and white glare above me. I close my eyes and let gravity take me down toward you.

Sara_León: I drift in and out of reality at times. I feel a grip on my ankle, my body being dragged. I know you are not finished with me yet. I wish you were. Dark again. A pressure under my armpits, I open my eyes a little and see your face. Your face is… cleaned? You whisper to me that you are going to finish, but I do not respond, I do not nod. I do not feel anything either. You slap me, and the sound is clean, satisfying. Your hand imprints like a drawing on my bloodied cheek. Everything turns black all at once. I feel myself fall, but not to the floor. It is wood, fabric. My arm hangs limp at one side. The crowd begins to rise, to shout in anticipation, in joy, in cheers. I sense that the end is near. The lights blind me, shining on my body soaked in sweat, mixed with blood. My hair completely disheveled and stained. And then… A shadow blocks the lights. It is you. So destroyed, yet so beautiful. So athletic, so elegant. I always loved this moment. I know that in the air you are happy. Those small seconds of visual display. It seems like you are flying, rotating in the air. I know I have achieved it, I have managed to return you to the place where you belong. A painfully bitter victory in any case, but one that fills me with comfort. If only you could know how much I love you, how proud I am of you… And then, finally… -KKKRRRRRAAAACCCCKKKKKKK!!!!- Your body lands on mine, crushing it and sending the brutal impact through the wood, which gives way beneath me, splitting in two in a satisfying instant. My body convulses, my spine cracks, my lungs, my chest, my heart are crushed. My body falls folded in a V shape over both halves of the table, beneath the flag of my country, while I finally rest in absolute unconsciousness, completely knocked out by you once and for all

Hana_Jeong: The impact erases me. For a few seconds after I crash through you and the table, there is nothing. Just a white void swallowing everything. Then sensation crawls back. My ribs scream. My lungs drag air in ragged pulls. Splinters and fabric press against my skin. I blink through the glare and shapes return. The referee is already beside you, fingers at your throat, checking. Alive. Relief hits me so hard it almost knocks me out again. I roll toward you on instinct and drape myself across your body. My arm slides over your chest and I hook your leg weakly, but it is unnecessary. You are completely gone. No resistance. No movement. The count echoes somewhere far away. One… My cheek rests against your shoulder. Your skin is still warm beneath blood and sweat. Two… My fingers curl faintly into your hair. Three. The bell rings. I do not move. I cannot. I just lie there half on top of you, crying without sound at first, then shaking with it. Around us the arena explodes, but it feels distant, unreal. For a brief suspended moment it is only us again, as if the years peeled away and nothing else exists. My lips hover close to your ear. My voice is shredded to a whisper. “I never hated you,” I breathe. “I was hurt. I was lost. And I let that become hate.” My forehead rests gently against yours despite the blood between us. “You were always the one who pushed me higher. Even now… you gave me back the sky.” My tears fall onto your cheek. “I’m sorry, Sara. For every word that tried to erase what we were.” Hands finally reach us. The referee and medics pull at me carefully. My body resists, clinging to you for one last second before they lift me away. Paramedics flood around you, voices urgent, a stretcher appearing almost instantly.

Hana_Jeong: The world fractures into flashes. Someone pressing flowers into my hands. The announce table rushing toward me. I barely register any of it. Then Mizuki is there. Her arm wraps around my waist and she lifts one of mine over her shoulders. I sag into her, shaking. “I’m good… please… take me out of here,” I murmur. “I got you, my dear,” she answers softly. As she guides me up the ramp, I twist my head once. The stretcher with you is already gone. In the locker room the medics work on me. Needles. Sutures. Antiseptic burning like fire. I hiss and grip the table. My gear and skin are stiff with dried blood. Each touch hurts, but inside there is only hollow space. I stare ahead, unfocused. I got everything. Revenge. Stardom. Money. And I feel nothing. Mizuki steps in again once the medics finish. She kneels in front of me and I collapse into her, arms wrapping around her neck as the sob finally tears out of me. “I feel so empty,” I choke. “I need to see her. I have so much to tell her. I never wanted this.” She holds me tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head. “Hana,” she says gently, “you walked into a fire that would have broken most people. And you still carried your heart through it.” I shake against her. “I’m so stupid… I should hate her for everything she did… but I can’t…” My voice dissolves again. Mizuki draws back just enough to look into my eyes. Her expression is soft. “That is not stupidity,” she says. “That is the truest strength you have.” Her thumb wipes a tear from my cheek. “Anyone can harden after pain. Anyone can turn love into hatred to survive. But you… you kept the part of you that loves, even when it cost you everything.” She presses her forehead lightly to mine.

Hana_Jeong: I cling tighter, shaking my head weakly. “It hurts so much…” “I know,” she whispers. For a moment she is quiet. I feel her chest rise under my cheek. “When I first met you,” she says softly, “I did not believe in you. Not really.” The words land gently, without cruelty, just truth. “You were too soft. Too emotional. Too willing to throw yourself into pain for others. I thought… this girl will burn out. She will break herself and hide in a hole.” Her fingers brush the side of my face, almost apologetic. “But you didn’t,” she continues. “You fell. Again and again. You lost. You were betrayed. You were humiliated. And every time… you stood back up still caring.” Her voice warms with quiet awe. She presses my hand between both of hers. “You taught me that compassion is not weakness. That loyalty is not foolish. That giving your whole heart is not a mistake even when it shatters.” Her voice drops to a tender whisper. “You refused to stop loving in a world that kept punishing you for it.” She squeezes me gently. “So do not call yourself stupid,” Mizuki says. “The world already has enough people who protect themselves by feeling less. What it rarely has… is someone brave enough to feel everything.” Her arms close around me once more, firm and warm. A litte smile emerges on my face.

Sara_León: After the brutal impact, my next memory is in a medical room backstage, on a stretcher. I deduce that you made the count, that you finally won. You got your revenge and managed to enter the main roster. I feel that they have placed a cervical collar on me to immobilize my neck. I feel my face clean, but I notice a bruise on the lower area of my right eye. They have cleaned my wounds as quickly as they could, but my whole body feels like a very heavy burden, and every movement burns. When I wake up, they quickly offer me gels to feed and hydrate myself, and I take them obediently. I look into the nurses’ eyes. They do everything with cold professionalism, but I know they are glad about my defeat. It is simply an inevitable reality, they think I deserved it, and they are probably right. There are no words of comfort, only medical orders. They tell me not to move, that the ambulance is about to arrive, but I still have one thing left to do. I begin to get up, against my body and their warnings, and I limp out of the medical room, leaning on the walls. I head straight to the arena. I ask for a microphone and cross the curtain. They are finishing cleaning the ring, people talking among themselves, waiting for the next match. When they see me, everyone falls silent. I walk down the ramp in an uncomfortable silence, with a slow and trembling step, microphone in hand, and I slide under the bottom rope, heading toward the center of the ring, with the crowd beginning to murmur, annoyed by my presence.

Sara_León: I kneel in the center of the ring, I sit back on my legs and bring the microphone to my lips: “Hana…” It is the only thing I say. A storm of boos darkens the stadium, while I remain there, alone, kneeling, with the microphone in my hand over my thighs, my head bowed. My hair falls over my face, I feel part of my face swollen. I know I have bandages and patches on various parts of my body. The collar still on. I just wait, with my head bowed, enduring the storm, waiting for someone to tell you that I am here, for you to decide to come out, even if only out of curiosity. The microphone trembles in my hand. Some fans throw random objects into the ring, which crash before reaching me. Insults, shouts telling me to leave. I know I have to be strong, one last time.

Hana_Jeong: The locker room door bursts open so suddenly it makes me flinch. One of the young staff girls stands there, breathless, eyes wide. “Hana, Sara is calling you out.” They float in the air like something unreal. Then everything inside me drops. My stomach twists, my hands go cold. Mizuki’s hand comes to my back, firm and certain. “Go,” she says quietly. I shake my head once, lost, terrified. “I… I can’t…” “Yes, you can,” she answers. I push myself up, ignoring the pull of sutures and the dizziness, and I stumble toward the corridor. Every step hurts, my ribs protesting, my head light, but I keep going. The curtain appears in front of me like a wall. I step through. You are there in the center, kneeling, broken, wrapped in bandages and that rigid collar, microphone trembling in your hand. So alone. The crowd sees me. A hush falls, spreading through the arena in widening circles until thousands of voices become nothing. I walk down the ramp slowly. My face is swollen from crying, my eyes raw and red. Every step feels heavy, unreal, like walking through water. I never take my eyes off you. I reach the apron. My hands grip the edge. Then I slide under the bottom rope. Up close… you are worse than I imagined. Bruises blooming under cleaned skin. Tape. Blood traces they could not fully erase.

Hana_Jeong: “Sara” I sob. You try to speak again . I see your lips part but I cannot let you. Not one more apology, not one more word shaped by pain. I surge forward on my knees and wrap my arms around you, pulling you against me with everything I have left. “No more words… please,” I cry into your shoulder. “No more… no more…” I hold you carefully but desperately, one hand cradling the back of your head against my neck, as if shielding you from the world, from the crowd, from everything that brought us here. My body shakes with sobs. “I’m here,” I whisper, broken. “I’m here… for you” Around us the arena stays silent, thousands of people watching two ruined young women kneeling in the center of the ring.

Sara_León: I see you come in, and my fist tightens around the microphone. Be strong, Sara. This is all you have left, then you can be miserable in peace, I tell myself. My gaze fixes on you, and a stab of joy and hope pierces my heart. You did it. I did it, I restored you. Even if you don’t know it. Nor do you have to know, I didn’t do it to earn your forgiveness. You get into the ring and whisper my name, and I bring the microphone to my lips: “Hana… I…” And before I can say anything, you hug me, crying. The whole world turns upside down. My last clear memory of you is that sincere “I hate you” from just a few minutes ago, and it keeps echoing in my head. You start crying, and whispering to me, but I remain motionless, my eyes flooded with tears, wide open, terrified. Suddenly I feel like an idiot for not having seen it coming. For believing I had been capable of completely burying your spirit. And there you were, without knowing what the hell I was going to tell you, already hugging me, as if I had done something to deserve it. And yet, something feels terribly wrong. I drop the microphone on the floor and raise my arms, my heart pounding at a thousand beats per hour and my hands trembling. I grab you by the shoulders and pull you away from me, forcing you to look at me, whispering so you can hear me clearly while the crowd begins to murmur. “Hana, you have to let me do this. I beg you.” My voice tightens and breaks, in a mixture between a desperate plea and a direct order that allows no discussion. “Please… Don’t take this away from me. Stand up, in front of me. Listen to me. And when I’m done… Legitimize me.” My hands move to your face, while my voice has grown firmer and firmer, my gaze fixed on yours. “Do it for me, okay? I’ll be fine.”

Hana_Jeong: Your hands on my shoulders stop me. Your words reach me through the fog, through the ache, through the tears that still blur everything. Don’t take this away from me. I feel the plea inside them. The need. The last fragment of something you still have to finish. My sobbing quiets into broken breaths. I nod. A small, obedient movement. “O… okay…” I whisper. My hands slide to your arms, careful of the bandages, the trembling muscles, the collar. I help you rise. We both shake, bodies barely holding together, but somehow we stand. Face to face. So close I can feel your breath against my lips. I cannot meet your eyes. Not fully. My head bows slightly, chin tucked, shoulders drawn in. My hands come together in front of my belly, fingers lacing and unlacing in a nervous, almost childlike gesture. The same shy posture I have always fallen into when the world becomes too big for me. All I want is to disappear. To leave this ring. To leave this moment to you. You asked me to stay. So I stay. I swallow, voice small and fragile. “I’m here…” My eyes finally lift just enough to find yours, wet and uncertain. “…I’m listening... Sara"

Sara_León: I stand up next to you, making sure you have understood me, seeing that you remain standing, motionless, listening to me. I... I cannot do this standing, so I fall to my knees again, wiping my tears and trying to maintain my composure. The audience falls silent. And then I bring the microphone to my lips again: "Hana... We haven’t spoken since the day I betrayed you. I know how unfair it is to even have the chance to speak to you again. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, nor that of all these people. I was jealous of your success. I betrayed your love, your friendship, your trust. I destroyed everything that was between us. I destroyed you. I deprived you of the success you deserved. I didn’t care about you. I didn’t call you, I didn’t ask how you were. I didn’t regret it. I let you rot for months. And then I went after you, to humiliate you, to sink you deeper into your misery. I have shattered each and every one of the values that were once part of my identity. I have deliberately pushed away from my life the only person in this entire country who believed in me from the very first minute. I have..." My voice breaks, creating an uncomfortable echo for an instant, as my eyes fill with tears. "I have been a bad friend, a bad person. I never deserved any of this. And I know my words change nothing, but today I have come here to tell you one single thing, Hana..." I then grip the microphone with both hands, bringing it closer to my lips and saying in a clear but trembling voice: "미안해"

Sara_León: I pronounce it in Korean as best I can. I’ve had that word in my head for far too long. I try not to look you in the eyes, I don’t want to break down, at least not yet. I’ve already apologized to you in your language, now I must do it in the audience’s. My final act of humiliation. I take off the neck brace and throw it aside. My neck protests. I begin to move and my whole body responds with a dreadful pain, but I manage to straighten up and then begin to incline my body reverently forward, until I manage to touch the mat with my forehead, almost touching your boots. The audience falls completely silent, while I remain there one, two, three, four seconds, which feel eternal, almost kissing your feet. I don’t know much about Japanese culture, but I believe I am doing the right thing at the right moment. Then I straighten up again, sitting back on my knees and finally lifting my eyes to look at you. Two tracks of tears are perfectly visible on my cheeks. A great weight is released inside me, I have already done everything I had to do. I look at you very intently, pleading with my eyes for you to finish me. I have suffered enough humiliation, I just want to pay what I have left and rest...

Hana_Jeong: The word hits me deeper than any blow tonight. I'm sorry. Your voice saying it… careful, foreign, trembling… just for me. Something inside me breaks open. My face collapses, tears pouring without control. My lips tremble violently, and a small broken sound escapes me again and again as I watch you bow… bow to me… your forehead almost touching my boots. “No… no… no…” I whisper under my breath, shaking my head, horrified. This is wrong. All of it is wrong. My hands reach toward you instinctively, desperate to stop you, to lift you, to erase this image forever — but you stay there those endless seconds, and I cannot move the world back. When you rise again and look at me… those eyes… emptied, pleading, finished… Sweet, fragile Hana, the one you always said you loved, is all that remains of me now. I drop to my knees too, right in front of you. My hands come to your shoulders, trembling, trying to pull you into me but you are rigid, unreachable, locked inside your own need to finish this ritual.

Hana_Jeong: My voice is tiny, breaking, off-mic so only you hear: “Sara… please…” I lean closer, forehead almost touching yours. “My sister… let’s go… let’s just go…” My fingers clutch weakly at your gear, as if I could anchor you to me and pull you out of this arena, out of the lights, out of the judgment, out of everything that has devoured us. “I’ll take care of you… we’ll leave… I don’t want any of this… I don’t need it… I don’t…” My breath shatters. “I love you…” But you do not move. Your eyes stay fixed in that distant resolve. And then — you remove the collar. My heart drops. You are choosing pain. You are choosing punishment. You are choosing the end. I recoil slightly, shaking my head faster now, panic rising.

Hana_Jeong: I turn my back on you covering my face with both hands heading for the ropes. At this moment I just want to get out of this place.

Sara_León: My heart begins to pound hard. You are truly superhuman. You are so good that you don’t even want to allow me the right to be punished. I glance at the audience, and my neck cracks just from moving it for an instant. No, this has to end. And if I have to hurt you one last time to achieve it... so be it. I throw the microphone aside so that no one but you can hear me. And my voice comes out hoarse, but firm: “Can’t you even finish this, Hana?” I manage to say, trying to overcome the gagging I feel when I do it. I force myself to continue: “Is this how you solve everything, right? Crying and hiding. Turning your back on me so you don’t have to look at me. I suppose that is and always will be your great weakness, which is why you will never achieve anything on your own, always dependent on others. After all... you wouldn’t have even managed to make it onto the roster if it hadn’t been for me...”

Hana_Jeong: Your words cut deeper than anything tonight. Not because I believe them. But because I know why you say them. You’re forcing me. Forcing me to hate you again. So you can finish this. My breathing stops. My eyes lift slowly to you. All tears gone. Only shock. And then something snaps. You want the monster back. You get her. My jaw tightens. My chest rises once, sharp, animal. Then I turn — fast. My hip whips through. My leg arcs wide. The kickpad crashes into your temple with a sick, flat PASHHHH. The impact shudders up my spine. I hear myself groan — raw, furious, wounded — as your body goes slack before it even hits the mat. You collapse. Unconscious. Still. For a heartbeat I stand over you, frozen, eyes wide, chest heaving. Then the reality hits. “What… what have I—” Hands grab my shoulders. Officials rushing in. Voices shouting. I stumble back from you as if burned. “No— no— I—” I turn and bolt. Out of the ring. Up the ramp. Through the curtain. My hands clutch my head, fingers tangled in my hair. “What have I done… what have I done… what have I done…”

Hana_Jeong: My hands are still tangled in my hair when Mizuki catches me. I almost crash into her chest. “I hit her… Mizuki… I kicked her… she’s not moving… I—” My breath breaks apart. “I lost control… I’m horrible… I’m the same as her…” Mizuki grips my shoulders hard. Not gentle. Firm. “Hana. Stop.” I shake my head, sobbing. “I hurt her… after everything… I—” She lifts my chin so I have to look at her. Her eyes are wet, but steady. “You didn’t hurt her out of hate.” I freeze. “She pushed you there,” Mizuki says quietly. “Because she knew only you could end it.” My lips tremble. “She needed you to strike her as an equal. Not as the girl who still loves her.” My chest caves in. “You didn’t become her tonight, Hana.” Her thumb wipes a tear from my cheek. “You became someone who can love… and still fight.” I break again against her shoulder. “I didn’t want to…” “I know.” She holds me tighter. “And the fact you’re crying for her right now?” A small pause. “That’s why you’ll never be the monster you fear.” Her hand settles on the back of my head. “You’re still you. That’s your strength. Now go take a warm shower... You need to rest and eat some food”

Sara_León: At last you turn toward me. Your mere body posture is different. My entire muscles tense, my breathing quickens, as does my pulse. You are so beautiful... I close my eyes the instant you begin to move, and in a second... -CRRACCKKK!!- My head rotates from a spectacular kick, twisting my neck. I feel one last instant of absolute release. It’s finally over. And then, total blackness. My body collapses inert onto the mat, completely unconscious from a single strike. My cheek crushed against the canvas, my arms at my sides. My neck brace and the microphone on the canvas, a few meters from me. The audience, still on their feet, begins to applaud. In silence. No cheers, no boos. A long applause that neither of us can manage to enjoy. The medics run out, heading to the ring, where I lie alone, unconscious, stretched out. They lift me onto a stretcher, put the neck brace back on me and take me out of there. Straight to the hospital

Hana_Jeong: Tokyo is still dark when I finally leave Mizuki. Her words stay with me, circling in my head the whole walk home. My apartment feels too quiet. Too small. Too empty. I climb into the little mezzanine, every muscle protesting. My ribs ache when I breathe. My thighs burn. My neck is stiff. I lie on my back and stare through the roof window at the pale sky that is starting to turn blue. But there is only you. Your face when you bowed. Your voice saying sorry in my language. Your body collapsing from my kick. My throat tightens. “We were supposed to do this together…” I whisper into the empty room. The tears come again, slow and tired. I sit up. I don’t even think. I just move. I pull on my shoes and leave.

Hana_Jeong: The receptionist looks at my bruised face with concern. “I’m… looking for a western girl. Sara.” She checks. Her expression softens. “She is in surgery right now.” My heart drops. “… spinal stabilization,” she adds gently. “Do you have family to contact?” I swallow. My voice is small. “We… only have each other.” She nods. Time dissolves in the waiting room. One hour. Two. Three. The vending machine coffee tastes like metal. I smoke outside until my fingers smell like ash. My body shuts down on a plastic bench around five in the morning. A hand touches my shoulder. I wake with a start. “The surgery went well,” the nurse says softly. “It was complex, but successful. She will be moved to a room soon. You can see her then.” Relief hits so hard my vision blurs. “Thank you… thank you…” When they finally let me in, the room is dim and quiet. You are asleep. So still. So pale. But alive. The collar is back around your neck. Monitors breathe softly beside you. I step closer, afraid even of my own footsteps. Your face is clean now. Bruised. Swollen. But peaceful. My chest breaks open. I pull a chair close and sit. Slowly, carefully, I rest my head beside your arm on the mattress. “I’m here…” I whisper. Exhaustion takes me in seconds. A door sound. I wake, disoriented. A nurse stands there, checking your IV. She smiles softly at me. “Your friend was treated very roughly,” she says. “But she is young and strong. She will recover well.” She adjusts the blanket over you. “She will be happy to wake up and find you here.” I look at you. My fingers slide gently around yours, careful of the tape and bruises. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. "I'll be here for you, chica" I smile in relief knowing that you'll be alright.

Sara_León: I blink slowly, the dim lights of the darkened room slowly seeping into my retinas. My last memory is that total and absolute relief an instant before your kick. A peace floods my chest, which suddenly swells, wanting to absorb as much air as possible. I did it, I made it. But then I realize that a hand is squeezing mine. I lower my gaze and see you by my side, with your head tilted, perhaps asleep. I can’t see your face but you really can only be one person. My eyes fill with tears instantly as I whisper in a broken voice: “What have I done to deserve you?”

Hana_Jeong: Your whisper breaks something soft inside me. I lift my head fast when I hear your voice, relief flooding my face the instant I see your eyes open. “Sara…” I slide my chair closer and take your hand gently in both of mine. “No… hey… don’t talk,” I murmur right away, shaking my head with a small, tender smile. “You don’t need to say anything.” My thumb strokes your fingers, slow and soothing. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?” I glance at the cup on the table. “Do you want some water?” I tuck a strand of hair away from your face with extreme care, avoiding every bandage. “The doctors said you’re going to be fine,” I whisper softly. “The surgery was complex… but one hundred percent successful. They were very clear about that.” My eyes shine again, but this time with quiet relief. I let out a shaky breath, then my lips curve a little.A tear slips down, but I’m smiling. I brush my thumb across your knuckles. “So now you just rest, okay? That’s your only job.” I lean closer, voice warm and steady. “I’m right here.”

Sara_León: Tears begin to flow unstoppable from my eyes, and I feel that I truly cannot listen to you. I have so much to say... And yet, the first thing that comes out of my lips is unexpected, even for me: "I have been so alone, Hana... So alone..." I had so assumed that I would wake up alone in the hospital bed that seeing you there by my side makes me feel an explosion of emotions that I thought I had buried. So many months locked inside myself, so many others being only an object of hatred and rejection. And, in the end, the only person who is next to me is the one I have hurt so much. I cannot help but keep talking: "I... I am very sorry for what I told you... In the end... I... I didn't mean it seriously... I just... Just wanted...." The words get stuck in my throat and I have to start again: "I didn't think I would see you again... I didn't think you could..." And then an urgent and deep look appears in my eyes, looking at you with a plea: "Y-you... Do you forgive me...?"

Hana_Jeong: Your words hit me deep. My face folds and tears spill over before I can stop them. I move closer to you, almost leaning over the bed, still holding your hand. “No… no, Sara… there is nothing to forgive,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Nothing. Please… don’t carry that.” I swallow hard, trying to steady myself, but the truth comes out in pieces. “I was stupid too… and naive with so much fame and popularity,” I admit softly. “I should never have squashed you like that in the pre-show. I saw you hurting and I didn’t stop. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t even ask how you were.” My head lowers in shame. “I missed you as a friend… when you needed me most.” I lift my eyes back to you, wet and open. “So please… don’t think this was only you. We both hurt each other so much.” My thumb brushes your cheek carefully, avoiding the bruises. “But look at us now,” I breathe. “After everything… all the anger, all the pride, all the walls… we still broke through it. We still found each other again.” My forehead rests gently against the side of your hand. “I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone, okay?” I squeeze your fingers with quiet certainty. “That’s what matters... I really love you , sister" I sob

Sara_León: After so much time alone and carrying the guilt, I am completely unable to embrace this avalanche of love, to accept the brutal reality that things CAN be like they were before. I stop crying, out of pure confusion. "I-I... I don't know what to say... You did nothing wrong, Hana. Nothing at all. You were always good, you always believed in me. You were with me in my worst moment, maybe you don't remember it, but I do, and your kindness still weighs on me. You loved and supported me until the last second before I betrayed you. And I truly appreciate that you want to downplay it, but I really need to hear that you forgive me, if you are truly willing. The damage I did to you does not depend only on you, you have to understand that." I tell you softly, rubbing my thumb against your hand, with an almost maternal voice, like I used to do when you blamed yourself for the mistakes of others, such a long time ago. Those little flaws of yours that made me wish you were just a little more selfish just to be happier. "I... I love you very much too, sister. But... please..."

Hana_Jeong: I look at you for a long moment, my eyes soft and wet, full of tenderness but also something deeper, heavier. My fingers curl a little tighter around yours. “Sara…” I whisper. A breath trembles in my chest. “I would have done anything for you. Anything. You know that.” My voice falters and I shake my head slowly. “And I… I will never forgive myself for that kick. After everything was already over… I hurt you again. I see it every time I close my eyes.” Tears slip down my cheeks. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” I ask, not accusing, just broken. “You always knew everything about me. I never hid anything from you. Never. You were… you are… my whole family.” My lips tremble. “I don’t have parents. I don’t have siblings. It’s just you. It was always you.” I look down for a second, ashamed. “I know I’m silly. And shy. And… I know fame started pulling me away. I was busy, tired, everywhere at once… and I didn’t see you slipping away right beside me.” I swallow hard. “But damn… I gave you my whole heart. We could have talked. We always found a way before. We always fixed things together.” My thumb brushes slowly across your knuckles. “You know me. I don’t need much to be happy. I came to this world for wrestling… but wrestling gave me something worth so much more.” My eyes lift back into yours, warm and steady now. “You.” A small, fragile smile appears. “I don’t need to be selfish, Sara. If you’re happy… I’m happy. That’s enough for me. Always was.”

Sara_León: My eyes fill with tears again, and I remain in silence staring ahead, just letting them run, pressing my hand against yours. “I… I couldn’t even look you in the eyes without feeling ashamed… I didn’t feel worthy of even asking you to talk… And I was terrified to think that surely you wouldn’t want to… Forgive me…” I slowly avert my gaze again, completely wet, until I look into your eyes, and my trembling voice breaks when I speak. “I’ve missed you so much, Hana… So much...”

Sara_León: Before you can respond, I suddenly jolt, my hand tightening abruptly. “Wait! My family! They don’t know how I am… I have to call them, tell them that I’m okay… I have to… And my phone?” I say hurriedly, fidgeting as if I were about to try to get up

Hana_Jeong: “Yes… yes… your family… of course,” I murmur softly, immediately leaning closer. “Don’t move, okay? I’ll get your phone.” I gently release your hand and reach for the small transparent hospital bag on the chair beside the bed, the one with your clothes and personal things folded inside. My fingers still shake a little as I open it and find your phone. I instinctively turn my eyes away while I pick it up, the way I was taught by my mother since I was little: other people’s screens are private, you don’t look. I bring it toward you and it slips. “Oh!” It falls from my trembling fingers and hits the floor with a dull plastic crack. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry… I’m still shaking a bit,” I whisper quickly, already bending down. My knees touch the floor as I reach for it. The screen is on. Facing up. My eyes land on it before I can stop them. I freeze. The color drains from my face. There are… thousands of notifications. Messages, tags, mentions, alerts stacked endlessly across the lock screen. And at the top… names. Accounts. My name. “Hana Jeong Central”… “RealHanaJeong”… fan pages… edits… clips… headlines… I stare, completely lost, then slowly lift my head toward you, still kneeling beside the bed, phone in my hand. My voice comes out small, incredulous, almost frightened. “…Sara…?” I swallow. “I… I don’t even have public social media… What… what is this…?”

Sara_León: I throw you a confused look for a moment, and after a few seconds I turn completely pale, understanding what you have seen. I begin to stammer… “I-I… Y-you weren’t supposed to see it… It was… Well, it was… I mean, it is…” My chest begins to rise and fall quickly, as if I were panting, while I try to explain myself, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. “When I defeated you in that club… I… I felt like I had to do something to fix it… I came up with… Posting and making our matches go viral… Creating anticipation, provoking our match… So that you would recover what I took from you… Your place in the ring, and… well… The love of the crowd… Which in the end is why I betrayed you in the first place… I-I thought it was the right thing… Showing the world what I had done was the simplest way…” I swallow, looking away, full of shame, bringing both hands to my face and covering my eyes. “Yes, I intentionally provoked the hatred toward me… it has been really hard… But I don’t regret it… You became the favorite again… The best woman.”

Hana_Jeong: I remain frozen for a few seconds, still kneeling beside the bed, your phone loose in my hand. Your words fall over me one after another, heavy, complicated, impossible to place anywhere inside my chest. You did all this… on purpose. For me. Against yourself. I feel too many things at once. Shock. Gratitude. Pain. Confusion. Something almost like anger that I don’t even want to name. My throat tightens and I have to swallow before I can speak. I draw a slow, careful breath. You’re pale, exhausted, shaking after surgery. Vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen you. And something inside me immediately softens again, overriding everything else. I place your phone gently in your hand. “Sara…” My voice is quiet, uneven. “I… I don’t really know what to feel right now.” I look at you fully then, eyes wet but steady. “I never wanted to be the favorite,” I say softly. “Not above you. Never above you.” My fingers brush your blanket near your wrist, hesitant, almost apologetic. “For me… you were always the better one. You were fearless. When I doubted myself, you were the one who told me I could do it. In the dojo… in life… you were always the one protecting me.” My lips tremble faintly. “That never changed. Not even when we were… enemies.” I exhale slowly. “Please call your family, okay? They must be very worried about you.” I try a small, fragile smile. “I’ll be back.” I don’t give you time to answer. If I stay one second more, I feel I might either collapse into you or say something I’m not ready to say. I turn and leave the room quietly.

Hana_Jeong: The hospital corridor smells sterile and cold. My steps feel distant, as if they belong to someone else. I follow the signs down to the cafeteria, buy a small espresso and a wrapped sandwich with shaking hands. I realize I haven’t eaten since last night. Outside, in the smoking area, the early-morning sky is turning pale. I sit on a metal bench, cup between my palms, and light a cigarette. The first inhale burns my throat and steadies me at the same time. The city is waking up. Ambulances in the distance. Hospital staff changing shifts. Ordinary life moving forward while everything inside me feels suspended. She did this. She made herself the villain. She pushed the world to hate her… so I would be loved again. I press my fingers to my forehead, eyes closing. “She played with my life…” I whisper to the empty air. A long exhale of smoke. “…or maybe… this was the only way she knew how to say she was sorry.” I sit there in silence, the cigarette slowly burning down between my fingers, my heart still pulled in two directions that refuse to separate.

Sara_León: I feel a whirlwind of emotions when you speak to me. Your words are sweet… Maybe too sweet. I am incapable of feeling like I am the woman you think I am, and that tears me apart. Your confusion unsettles me. I look at you at moments, looking away again, not knowing what to feel or how to respond, until you leave me alone, with the promise that you will return. I stay with the phone in my hand, staring at it with my trembling hand. Thousands of notifications. I can’t call my family, not like this. They’ll hear me crying and worry even more. I try to focus and write them a few messages. I’m in the hospital. I’m fine, don’t worry. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you very much. That should be enough. I keep receiving notifications to my fake accounts, some praising “Sara’s redemption.” A knot forms in my stomach and I impulsively throw the phone away, as if it burned me, leaving it on the floor at the foot of the door. I bring a hand to my mouth, biting my finger and crying silently between tremors, my gaze fixed on nothing. Suddenly, I don’t even know if you’ll come back. I’m alone again, turned into a bundle of confusion. Was everything I did really necessary? Did it hurt you to know it? What if I messed everything up again, all over again? Each question falls heavily on me, crushing me, while every second becomes eternal, unable to move, alone in my room. What if I end up alone again? My heart starts beating hard, beginning to feel an anxiety attack, while I feel a very strong pressure in my chest. I look at the door desperately, not realizing that I’m hurting my finger with the force I’m biting it, not knowing whether I want you to come back or not, beginning to gasp without being aware of it

Hana_Jeong: I open the door slowly. You’re not in the same position I left you. Your breathing is wrong. Your eyes look lost. The phone is on the floor near the door. For a second my heart drops. I walk in quietly and close the door behind me. My face must look terrible. I know I’ve been crying again. I feel empty and heavy at the same time. I pick up the phone from the floor and place it on the table without looking at the screen. Then I sit next to you. Close. But not touching yet. “Sara…” My voice is calm, but tired. “The first thing I need to ask you is to delete all those accounts.” I take a slow breath. “Not for me. For you.” I look down at my hands. “I can’t be angry with you. I just… I can’t. But I also can’t say thank you.” My lips tremble. “Because it feels like you were playing with my life. Even if your intention was good.” I finally look at you. “When I was in your position… all I wanted was you. Not revenge. Not the crowd. Not my place back.” My voice breaks softly. “Just you.” I reach for your hand and squeeze it gently. I cannot stop the tears now. “You know what I feel for you is beyond friendship. I really love you. And it’s exactly because I love you that I can’t be hurt like that again.” Silence fills the room for a few seconds. Then I say it. “I’m moving, Sara.” You blink. “I emailed World Wonder Ring Stardom. I’m not taking my place on the roster.” My voice is steady now. Almost too steady. “You redeemed yourself for the fans. They will welcome you back. You were born to shine. Not me.” I swallow. “You know where I come from. A poor neighborhood in Seoul. Just me and my grandma after my parents died. Working in her little market shop. I never dreamed I would wrestle in Tokyo in front of thousands. Or that millions would watch online.” I shake my head slowly. “This is too much for me, Sara. I’m not strong like you.” I breathe in deeply. “

Hana_Jeong: My coach said I could go to the USA. Big promotions are interested.” I give a small, sad smile. “But I’m not going.” “I’m going home. With the money I earned… and what I saved… I can buy a better house for my grandma. Expand her shop. Give her peace.” My fingers tighten slightly around yours. “I won’t stand in your path anymore. You made it. You deserve to shine.” My eyes meet yours. “And I don’t need the spotlight to be happy.”

Sara_León: I remain silent for a few seconds that feel eternal to me. I feel like an idiot for not having known how to believe in you, for having underestimated your kindness and your love. So many months of emptiness and effort... and you only wanted me... And now you are leaving... I feel the urge to speak again, to tell you a thousand things. I want to tell you that I don’t want to step into a ring again, that I no longer long for the spotlight, that I would like to disappear completely from this life. I would like to ask you not to leave, that I thought I had lost you forever and that now I cannot bear the thought of separating from you. I want to beg you not to leave me alone again, that I cannot be happy fighting alone in Tokyo, that I only want to get you back. I want to confess to you that I am not strong, that I feel like I mess up at every step I take, that I cannot endure it anymore. And yet, looking into your eyes, I realize that I am not in a position to tell you any of that. I should be silently grateful for your words and for your presence, not causing you even more pain. I am becoming selfish again, thinking about what I want and long for, and not about what you want. You are telling me what you truly feel and want, and at last after a long time I have the opportunity to be that friend who always supported you again. With enormous effort and still breathing with difficulty because of the growing anxiety, I force the best of my smiles, while I take one of your hands in mine, praying that my eyes do not betray me, and I nod. “I will delete the accounts. Thank you for your words... And I sincerely wish that you are happy wherever you go, Hana. You deserve it.” I bring one of your hands to my lips and close my eyes, kissing it reverently

Hana_Jeong: I finish speaking and my voice fades away on its own. My head lowers. My hands rest together in my lap. For a moment I cannot look at you. It took everything in me to say those words without breaking. Then, slowly, my eyes lift. Shy. Careful. Almost like a child waiting to see if she did something right. I look for something in your face. A crack. A hesitation. A sign you might reach for me. Ask me to stay. Tell me I matter more than all this. But you only nod. You say you will delete the accounts. You thank me. You wish me happiness. Nothing else. Inside me something folds quietly. A small voice whispers: You are so stupid. She might love you… but she chose wrestling once. She is here because she has a goal. Not because she can’t lose you. Heat rises to my cheeks. Shame. I feel small. Childish. For even imagining you would ask me to stay. I inhale slowly to steady myself. When I speak again, my tone is gentle and polite. Too polite. “Well… Sara… that’s it then.” I give a small nod, almost formal. “You’re in good hands here. Doctors, staff… everyone.” My fingers slide out from yours carefully, like I’m afraid to disturb you. “You just focus on healing.” I stand up from the chair. My body protests. I ignore it. “I… should go get my bag ready.” My eyes meet yours one last time. Soft. Wet. Trying to smile. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” I turn toward the door.

Sara_León: I watch you attentively, still gasping from the anxiety, but trying to maintain the façade. I know you have gone through a lot of pain, I am not willing to cause you more. I savor your kindness as if it were the last time I am going to receive it, enjoying every second you speak to me. For months I believed I had lost you, I cannot spend these moments with you thinking that I am going to lose you again. I return your smile as best I can, but when you turn around I feel the need to tell you one last thing... “Hana!!” I wait for you to turn, and I speak to you, with real emotion in my trembling voice, speaking directly from the heart... “Thank you for coming to be with me”