NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

Hana_Jeong: The morning after my debut at Noir, I woke up thinking it had just been another match. It wasn’t. New York didn’t talk about the match. It talked about her. Everywhere I looked, there she was. Tabloids , headlines at celebrities online magazines: “Manhattan Heiress Takes the Ring” “From Penthouse to Pain: Lauren van Zeller breaks into Pro Wrestling” Lauren James had arrived. And me? I was… somewhere in the background of those images. A blur in motion. But in the places that mattered, the ones without cameras, without glamour, the story was different. In Wrestling online forums or YouTube wrestling channels, comment sections were filled with people who actually watched the match. The verdict was unanimous: Hana carried it. Who is this girl? She’s the "real" real deal. Future of Noir. I didn’t read much more than that. I never liked attention outside the ring. That same afternoon, my phone rang. It was my old japanese coach, Mizuki. Her voice was calm, warm, familiar. Like a maternal figure to me. “Eat well. Sleep. Train hard.” She didn’t mention the match. She didn’t need to. She never treated me like a star. Just like someone still learning. I liked that. Because the truth is… I never came here to be famous. I came here to wrestle. To give everything inside those ropes… and then go back to being just me. A simple Korean girl who finds happiness in small things: Flowers. Yoga. Silence. Laughter. A quiet walk in the park.

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Hana_Jeong: Thursday night. Autumn in New York. The city outside my window was loud, restless… but inside my loft, everything was calm. I was sitting on my sofa, legs tucked under me, a beer bottle resting between my fingers. A magazine open on my lap. An article about Korean flowers. I was taking notes carefully, underlining parts, completely absorbed. Back home, flowers aren’t just decoration. They mean something. Each one carries a story. A virtue. A memory. For a moment… I wasn’t in New York anymore. I was back in Seoul. With my grandma. Helping her at the market stall. Arranging bouquets. Smilling to clients.Knock. The sound pulled me back. I looked at the clock. Almost midnight. “Maybe it’s the doorman…” I murmured to myself. He was supposed to check a pipe earlier, but this was late. I stood up, barefoot, and walked to the door. When I opened it I froze. A tall blonde woman stood there. Black fur jacket. High heels. A leather bag hanging from her hand like it carried nothing. She didn’t belong to my world. “Lauren…?” Her presence filled the doorway. Not just physically. She really intimidates.

Lauren_James: The adrenaline from the match was gone. After the backstage interview, Hana vanished, and I was left alone with my phone. It was vibrating so hard it almost fell out of my hand. Thousands of messages. My Harvard sorority sisters were screaming in my DMs: "Are you crazy?" and "A pro wrestler? Seriously?" My Instagram was a war zone; my followers were flooding the Noir page. I had turned the city upside down. The heiress turned wrestler it was the headline of the century. Even my geeky older brother messaged me saying, "I didn't think you were this cool!" But the "cool" factor didn't reach the top of the Van Zeller tower. My parents were beyond outraged. My eldest brother, who wants to be a US Senator, went into a total panic. To them, I wasn't a star; I was a stain that needed to be scrubbed away.

Lauren_James: After a wild party on Wall Street, I took a taxi back to my place on Greenwich Street in Soho. I stepped out, expecting the usual service, but my doorman looked like he had seen a ghost. He was shaking. "Sorry, Miss Van Zeller... I can’t let you in. I have direct orders." I stood there, frozen. I tried calling my mother—straight to voicemail. I called my oldest sister, Elizabeth. Her voice was cold. "The family has cut you off, Lauren. At least until you start acting 'acceptable' again." I laughed it off at first. I’d just go to a hotel and live like a movie star. Then I checked my bank balance: $5,000. That’s it. An email from the family lawyer confirmed the worst: I was down to a monthly allowance from my shares, and even that was controlled by my father. My world crumbled. There I was, wearing a real fur jacket that cost more than a car and Prada boots, sitting on the dirty sidewalk. People walked by, staring. A woman asked if I was okay, and I snapped a "Yes, yes" just to make her go away.

Lauren_James: I started walking down 5th Avenue, feeling like a tourist in my own life. I couldn't go to my friends; they were only "friends" because of my name. My middle sister, the only one I actually liked, was away in Europe. I felt completely alone. Then, I remembered the last time I called someone "sister." It was...What was the name of the chinese girl? Hana Jeong that's it. I managed to get her address and caught a taxi to Dumbo, Brooklyn. It was an old industrial area turned trendy, full of art and lofts. I took a deep breath as I entered her building. "Could be worse," I whispered. The doorman jumped to his feet when he saw me, looking like he was facing a general. "Miss Jeong," I said coldly. He pointed up. "Top floor, Madame." I took a shaky freight elevator to her floor. My heart was pounding. I knocked, hearing her light footsteps on the wood inside. When she opened the door, she looked terrified. I know my "heiress" persona scares normal people, but I couldn't keep the mask on anymore. "Sorry to come without warning..." I said, my voice cracking. "But believe it or not... I’ve only got you, Hana." She stood there in total shock. Looking at her, I suddenly felt ridiculous. I started to cry, then I let out a bitter laugh. "Damn, what am I doing? Forget it... I'm crazy." I turned back to the elevator, ready to disappear into the night.

Hana_Jeong: I freeze at the door, my fingers still wrapped around the handle. Up close, without the lights, without the crowd… you feel even more intimidating than in the ring. It’s not your height or your clothes. It’s everything you carry with you. Power. Wealth. A life I’ve never even been close to. For a second, I don’t move. My heart is beating faster than before a match. My voice comes out small, unsteady. “Lauren… wait…” You’re already turning away, disappearing back toward the elevator like none of this ever happened. I take a step forward, instinct taking over before fear can stop me. “You don’t seem okay.” My hand lifts, like I’m about to grab your arm… but I hesitate just before touching that fur coat, like it’s something I’m not allowed to reach. I swallow. “It’s… cold outside,” I add softly, almost apologetically. “At least… come in for a moment.” I step slightly aside, opening the door wider, giving you space instead of pressure. “I mean it.” There’s no judgment in my voice. No curiosity either. Just… real concern for another human being.

Lauren_James: I don't even think about the "Lauren James" brand, the expensive fur, or the pride that usually keeps my spine straight. It all just evaporates. I turn and practically drop into your arms, leaning my weight against you like I’m seeking shelter in a stormy night. You feel solid and real, a stark contrast to the hollow, frozen world I just got kicked out of. "Oh, Hana..." I whisper against your shoulder. "Don't say anything... just let me be here for a moment." I let the tears come then hot, messy, and loud. I cling to you, my hands bunching up the fabric of your clothes, finally letting the panic of the last hour out. After a minute, the sobbing slows to a heavy tremble. I slowly lift my head from your shoulder, feeling the damp patch my tears left on your shirt. I’m embarrassed, but I don’t pull away entirely. I reach up with a shaky hand, wiping the salt and ruined mascara from my cheeks, trying to find a piece of the old Lauren to pull back together. "I'm sorry," I murmur, my voice sounding thick and exhausted. "I didn't... I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Hana_Jeong: I feel your weight against me and for a moment I just… hold you. I don’t really know what to do, but I don’t let go either. “It’s okay… it’s okay…” I whisper softly, one hand resting a bit awkwardly on your back. When you lift your head and apologize, I shake mine quickly. “No… don’t be sorry.” I take a small breath, trying to steady myself, still a bit overwhelmed by everything… by you… by this situation that feels so unreal. “Ok, Lauren… you’ll tell me everything later,” I say gently, trying to sound reassuring even if my voice is still a little shaky. “Stay the night here… you need to rest.” I step aside and gesture for you to come in, giving you space like it’s the most natural thing in the world even if inside, I’m still processing that you are standing in my doorway. When you walk in without even taking off your boots, I notice it… hesitate for a second… then just take a quiet breath and let it go. “Why don’t you take a shower?” I add, a bit more softly now, trying to switch into something practical. “I’ll prepare something to eat.” I move a bit inside, pointing toward the small hallway. “There’s… um… some homewear in a drawer next to the bathroom. You can wear whatever you want.” I give a small, slightly nervous smile, almost bowing my head a little without realizing it, like I’m hosting someone far more important than me. “Just… make yourself comfortable.”

Lauren_James: "Thank you so much, Hana. Really," I say, the relief in my eyes finally replacing the panic. As she starts talking about food, I gently wave a hand. "Don't worry, I'm not hungry... but I am craving a beer." She leads me toward the back. Her loft isn't massive like my Soho place, but it’s incredibly cozy. It’s minimalist and clean, decorated with plants tucked into corners and small touches of her home country like a little South Korean flag pinned to the mezzanine railing. I’m a woman used to hour-long soaking sessions in marble tubs, but this quick shower feels like it gives me years of my life back. Surprisingly, her korean shower gel and products are amazing light and fresh. I rummage through the drawer she pointed out and find a t-shirt with a cute cat on it and some Korean text I can't read, along with a pair of purple shorts. After brushing the tangles out of my hair, I walk back out into the main space. Hana is in the kitchenette, carefully preparing a small snack to go with our drinks, her movements precise and calm. I lean against the counter, feeling a strange sense of peace. "Do you mind if I see your mezzanine?" I ask, gesturing toward the stairs. I'm curious about the private world of the girl who just saved my life.

Hana_Jeong: “Of course, Lauren,” I reply softly, looking up from what I’m preparing. I wipe my hands quickly on a small towel and step out of the kitchenette, giving you a small nod toward the stairs. As you start walking, I follow just a step behind you. Not out of distrust… but there’s a quiet awareness in me. You’re still new in my life. Everything is still… uncertain. And up there… that’s my space, “My little world,”. Where I keep my notes, photos, my diary, everything. The wooden steps creak lightly under our feet as we go up. The mezzanine isn’t big, but it’s warm. Soft lights, neatly folded clothes, a small low table, a few books stacked carefully. Near the window with a magnificent view, some plants catching what little night light slips through the glass. I glance at you, trying to read your reaction. “It’s… simple as you can see,” I add quietly, almost apologetically.

Lauren_James: The moment I reach the top of the stairs, a wave of sheer panic hits me. It’s not fear it’s the shock of seeing how someone actually lives. Everything here is immaculately clean and organized, the complete opposite of the high-priced chaos I usually leave behind for my maids to fix. I start pacing the small space, my eyes darting everywhere. On one wall, there’s a collage of photos: wrestling shots, you laughing with friends, snapshots of family. I feel like an intruder, but I can’t stop looking. I notice a diary open on the little desk, covered in neat, elegant script. "Don't worry, I don't understand anything of your language," I mutter, half to myself, half to reassure you as I lean in closer. My eyes snag on a small, faded Kodak photo of a teenage girl: you standing with your parents. Then, I spot a strip of photo-booth pictures from Japan, the kind with the bright filters and stickers, featuring you and another girl. "Who is this girl?" I ask, pointing to the strip. My curiosity is getting the better of my manners. Then, I see a photo tucked a bit lower than the rest, toward the bottom of the display. It’s a guy. I turn to you, a bit of that old Lauren sass returning to my voice despite the t-shirt with the cartoon cat. "And this guy? Is he your boyfriend?"

Hana_Jeong: I give a small, slightly embarrassed smile when you mention the diary, stepping a bit closer. “Well… it’s just some nonsense I write during the day,” I say softly, brushing it off like it’s nothing important. Then I follow your gaze. My expression changes when my eyes land on the photo of my parents, the one I always keep close… right next to the small crucifix. I take a quiet breath. “My parents are no longer in this world…” I say gently. “They’re in a better place… next to our Lord.” There’s a short pause. Not heavy… just respectful. Then I shift slightly, trying to keep things light as I start pointing at the photos, one by one. “That’s me in Stardom… Tokyo,” I say, a faint pride in my voice. I move to the next. “That’s Sara… my best friend. We shared a small apartment there. This was in the subway,” I add, a small smile appearing for a second. “And that’s Mizuki… my coach,” I continue, my tone softening again. “She taught me everything.” I gesture toward another. “That’s my old boss… in a café in Tokyo. I worked there before wrestling full-time.” "My grandma who's actually my maternal figure... in her new house in Seoul" I keep going on "My little cousins, my elder cousin who's in the army..." I say proudly. Then… I hesitate, just for a moment, before looking at the last picture you pointed at. My expression becomes more neutral. Controlled. “He's not my boyfriend. Just someone who crossed my life inn Madrid.” I don’t say more than that. Instead, I glance at you, quietly observing your reaction.

Lauren_James: "I'm sorry about your parents, Hana. Truly," I say, and for once, the sympathy in my voice is real. As I look around the room again, the weight of our differences settles on me. It’s a bit overwhelming. You’re the exact opposite of me, even though we’re the same age. It’s clear you spend so much time in this quiet world, tending to your plants, writing in that diary, and keeping your memories so close. You actually care about people. I’ve never felt that kind of affection for my family not even for my sister Eve in Europe, and she’s the only one I can stand. When the mood gets a little too heavy, I try to break the ice, nodding toward the photo of the guy from Madrid. "And don't worry about the 'crossing' paths thing. I’ve had plenty of those in my life. Trust me, they’re all the same." I turn and start heading back down the stairs, my Prada-less feet feeling light on the wood. I grab the beer you prepared and sink into the sofa, finally letting my muscles relax into the cushions. I look up at you, my expression turning serious. "Look, Hana," I say, holding the cold bottle against my palm. "I know I’m a mess right now, but I’m going to compensate you for this. I don't stay in debt to anyone."

Hana_Jeong: I stay standing for a moment, watching you sink into the sofa like you finally allowed yourself to feel the weight of everything. Your words catch me off guard. “Compensation…?” I repeat it quietly, almost like I don’t fully understand the meaning in this context. I take a few steps closer, shaking my head gently. “I don’t know what happened to you, Lauren…” I say, my voice soft but sincere. “But I don’t seek any profit on it.” I sit down on the edge of the sofa, leaving a small space between us, not wanting to overwhelm you. “I know we don’t really know each other,” I continue, looking at you honestly, “but… we already shared something intense in that ring.” A small pause. “And when you arrived… you didn’t look like someone who needed a deal. You looked like someone who needed… somewhere to breathe.” I glance at the beer in your hand, then back at you. “You can stay here tonight. No conditions., ok?”

Lauren_James: Your kindness makes me feel a weird knot in my chest. I live in a world where everything has a price tag attached like the mysterious coin you carry on your necklace. Favors, friendships, even family loyalty, everything is for sale. Dealing with someone who just gives without asking for a return is confusing, and honestly, it makes me feel confused. "I... I accept," I say quietly, looking down at my beer. "Thank you. I'm just exhausted, and I think I'm hoping that if I go to sleep, tomorrow will magically be different." But I can’t keep it in. I start talking, and once I start, I can't stop. I tell you everything. I tell you about the Van Zeller dynasty, the coldness of my parents, and how my brother would sell my soul if it got him one more vote for the Senate. I tell you about the doorman, the locked door, and the $5,000 that is supposed to last me a month. "I got into wrestling for the wrong reasons, Hana," I admit, staring at the little South Korean flag on your railing. "I wanted more eyes on me. I wanted to be the biggest thing on social media, and I knew a 'rebel heiress' in a ring would be a total scandal. It was just a game to get more fame." I take a long sip of my beer and look at you. "But after that nigh... after being out there with you... I see it differently. I felt something in that ring I’ve never felt. I felt real. I achieved something... even if you did 75% of the job" I laugh.

Hana_Jeong: I listen to you without interrupting, my hands wrapped around my bottle, my eyes calm, attentive. I don’t judge you. Not your past, not your reasons. I just… take it in. When you finish, I stay quiet for a few seconds, letting your words settle in the room. Then I gently reach for the small chain around my neck, pulling out the coin so it rests between my fingers. “I carry this 10 won coin,” I say softly, looking at it for a moment, “to remind me that… in this world, … we all get a price tag at some point and it's not a very expensive one.” I lift my eyes to you. A small pause. Then a faint smile appears on my lips, a bit playful. “Well… I would say I did more than 75% of the job.” I narrow my eyes at you in a teasing, suspicious way. For a brief moment, everything feels lighter. We both laugh. I lean back slightly, exhaling. “In a normal situation… our paths would probably never cross,” I admit quietly. I take a small sip before continuing, more practical now. “Look… 5000 dollars is a lot. It’s… more or less what I earn here in Noir,” I explain. “But this place… it’s expensive. Half of my salary goes into this rent.” I hesitate. Just a little. You can feel I’m thinking carefully before speaking again. “I was actually thinking… about sharing this place with another wrestler.” I glance at you, a bit unsure now. “Why not you?” I quickly add, not wanting you to misunderstand. “I know this is nothing compared to what you’re used to… and I’m probably not your kind of friend…” A small breath. “But… maybe we could try.” I look at you, genuinely. “No pressure.”

Lauren_James: It’s crazy how fast your life can shift in this city. Yesterday, I was the "Manhattan Heiress" with the world at my feet; tonight, I’m planning a life in a cozy loft with a South Korean girl I barely know. We stayed up for hours, the beer making everything feel honest. We talked about everything: the practical stuff about me moving in, but also the deep, messy things: drugs, boys, religion, sex, and travel. It turns out, despite the labels, we’re both just looking for the same thing: happiness. By the time we finally crawled into your bed, we were both tipsy and exhausted. We fell asleep almost instantly. I wake up before you. The morning light is soft, and I stay still for a moment, watching you sleep. You look so peaceful. "She's really a gorgeous woman". I whisper despite I'm not a lesbian. I want to thank you, so I pull out my phone and order the most "New York" breakfast I can find. While I wait for the delivery, I poke around your kitchenette. It’s like a museum of organization, every spice, tool, and plate is exactly where it belongs. I even notice a pack of cigarettes tucked away. I smile to myself; I guess you have a little "Lauren" in you too. The buzzer eventually rings, and I quietly retrieve the massive spread: 1 - Freshly toasted Everything Bagels with lox and thick cream cheese. 2 - Crispy Maple Bacon. 3 - Glazed Donuts and a few of those trendy cronuts. 4- Two giant cups of high-end Coffee. 5 - Freshly squeezed Orange Juice. I set it all out on your small table, trying to be quiet, but the smell of bacon and fresh coffee is enough to wake the dead. I lean against the counter, waiting for you to open your eyes and see the first "rent payment" from your new roommate.

Hana_Jeong: I slowly wake up, my body still heavy from the night, wrapped in that soft, warm feeling after deep sleep. I stretch slightly, eyes still closed, and mumble in Korean under my breath, “아… 지금 몇 시야…” “…ah… what time is it…” I rub my eyes and sit up, my hair a bit messy, trying to gather myself. For a second, everything feels quiet, almost unreal. Then I remember. You. Last night. Everything. I stand up slowly and walk down the wooden steps, still half-asleep, one hand brushing the railing. And then— I stop. The smell reaches me first. Warm. Rich. Sweet and salty. My eyes open a little more… and I see you. Leaning casually against the counter. And the table with a magnificent breakfast on it. I blink, confused, taking a few slow steps forward. “Lauren you are already awaken?...Oh my God…” I look at everything laid out, then back at you. “What is this all about, Lauren?”

Lauren_James: I can’t help but grin as I watch you stumble down the stairs, looking all soft and sleepy with your messy hair. It’s a far cry from the lethal warrior I saw in the ring last night, and honestly, it’s charming. "Oh, finally! The Sleeping Beauty awakes!" I chirp, my voice full of a morning energy I haven't felt in years. I pull out a chair for you with a flourish, gesturing to the spread of bagels and donuts like I’m a maître d' at the Ritz. "Please, have a seat, Madame Jeong!" I watch your face as you take in the mountain of food. The confusion on your face is priceless. "It’s just a way to say thank you," I say, my tone softening but staying playful. "For opening your door to me yesterday when everyone else was slamming theirs shut. Consider it the first official act of the James-Jeong alliance." I take a sip of my black coffee, feeling the caffeine hit my system. I look you in the eye, that competitive spark coming back to life. "Now, eat up. We need the fuel," I add with a wink. "Because today, we’re training together. If we're going to take over NOIR, we've got work to do."

Hana_Jeong: I can’t help but smile at your energy, still a bit overwhelmed by everything on the table. Instead of sitting right away, I walk behind you, gently leaning in. I place a soft kiss on the top of your head and give your arm a light, warm squeeze. “Thank you, Lauren…” I say quietly. “I have no words to describe how happy this makes me.” I move around to face you again, my expression soft but sincere. “And even more… seeing you like this. Ready to train.” A small, knowing smile appears on my lips. I tilt my head slightly, looking at you with a mix of kindness and challenge. “Today… I guarantee it’s going to be tough.”