MYFL | Chapter 3.2

There was something Beomchan truly wanted to ask. But instead, only irrelevant questions and half-hearted answers lingered between him and Seungjae. Even that was cut short when Beomchan had to go pick up the next group of kids for class.

Is teacher coming alone?

Even as he stepped out of the café, Beomchan couldn’t bring himself to say those words out loud.

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⋆˚🐾˖°

“Low block!”

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For the past few days, Beomchan had been increasing the focus on poomsae and basic movements in class, all in preparation for the upcoming open class. As he walked among the kids, he adjusted their spacing, making sure they didn’t get too close to one another. Some of the more eager ones tended to overextend their kicks, closing the gap between them and the child in front. If left unchecked, it could lead to accidental collisions, so he had to be mindful.

“Middle block!”

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But right now, it wasn’t just the kids demanding Beomchan’s attention.

Is the husband coming too?

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Since most of the students were young children, it was common for both parents to attend. Of course, there were kids from single-parent households as well, so it wasn’t a given. Some children came with their grandparents instead, and there were also cases where one parent was too busy or had other circumstances. So, it wouldn’t be strange at all if Seungjae showed up alone.

Even so, if Beomchan actually had to witness that with his own two eyes, he felt like he’d get pissed off. It wasn’t the kind of thought he should be having as Woojoo’s master. It was personal. It was because of his own feelings toward Seungjae.

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And yet, if he really did end up seeing that damn husband’s face, he was sure he’d find that annoying too. That guy had never shown up when Seungjae needed him, yet now he suddenly had time for his kid? No way Beomchan could find that sight pleasant.

If someone was married, then wasn’t it only right to care for and cherish their spouse as well? Lately, though, it seemed like every other news article or online post was about men who couldn’t even manage that bare minimum.

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“That’s just how marriage is. The reason it’s called ‘husband’ is because he’s ‘someone else’s’ now.”

Beomchan despised people who spewed nonsense like that as if it were some kind of joke. His own father was still someone who prioritized his wife over his children. Having grown up watching that, of course, Beomchan found those types of men pathetic.

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If it were me, I wouldn’t have been like that.

Ever since that night when he had driven a drunken Seungjae home, he had been replaying the same thought over and over. If I had been the one by Seungjae’s side…

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Even knowing it was a dangerous line of thinking, he couldn’t help it. Every time he saw Seungjae alone, the what ifs crept in.

Was I always this much of a fool?

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He hardly recognized himself. Snapping out of it, Beomchan slapped the mitts in his hands, refocusing.

“High block! Tae! Kwon! Do!”

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“Ready, rest!”

“Tae Kwon!”

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At the dojo, belt promotions for white to red belts were almost like a school talent show. Sure, in front of the kids, he’d throw in some warnings about how they could fail to keep them on edge, but in all the time Beomchan had been doing this, the number of kids who actually failed was less than ten.

Unless they were so nervous they couldn’t perform at all or were disruptive enough to interfere with others, he usually passed them. He knew that experiencing failure was important too, but at least in his dojo, he wanted to teach the kids a valuable truth—that effort never betrays you.

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The confidence and sense of achievement they gained here would become the foundation that helped them grow into strong, upright individuals.

As Beomchan observed each child’s movements, his gaze landed on Woojoo. Maybe because it was his first belt test, his face was noticeably tense.

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“Woojoo, do your best so your dad can see, and earn that yellow belt.”

“Yes!”

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Hearing Woojoo’s confident response, Beomchan managed to push his worries aside for a moment.

⋆˚🐾˖°

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Dozens of blue plastic folding chairs were arranged along the walls of the dojo in a U-shape. One by one, parents began arriving with their children, finding seats wherever they could.

Since things would already be hectic, Beomchan had told the kids in advance to come wearing their doboks to avoid any last-minute chaos. Even so, a few had forgotten and were now rushing toward the changing room in a panic. In the meantime, Beomchan walked up to greet the parents.

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“Cheonguk’s grandmother, have you been well?”

He crouched down to meet the elderly woman’s eye level as he spoke.

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“Oh, you know how it is with old folks—same as always,” she said with a small sigh.

“Was the trip here alright? The bus stop is a bit far, isn’t it?”

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“That’s why I just took a taxi. My knees are still working fine, so it’s not a big deal, but I didn’t want to hear my grandson whining about walking.”

She clicked her tongue and gestured toward the middle of the dojo, where Cheonguk was tangled up with his friends.

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“You did the right thing. I’ll call a taxi for you later when you leave. It can be a bit tricky to get one around here.”

“Thank you.”

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Beomchan gave her warm, outstretched hand a firm squeeze before standing up again.

Even though he had spaced out the chairs generously, there were already fewer empty seats than he had expected. Many families had come with more than two members. He mentally counted the families who had yet to arrive and scanned the remaining chairs. There weren’t quite enough, but judging by previous open classes, plenty of parents preferred to stand or sit on the floor while taking pictures or videos, so it should be fine.

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“Hello.”

At that moment, the door opened, and Seungjae walked in with Woojoo.

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“Woojoo’s father, you’re here! Come on over.”

Parents of kids from the same kindergarten recognized Seungjae and waved him over.

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“We were planning to go to Woojoo’s dad’s café later—hope that’s okay?”

“Of course, come by anytime.”

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Friendly chatter filled the air as Woojoo slipped from Seungjae’s grasp and disappeared into the crowd of his friends, running around without any sense of order.

Meanwhile, Beomchan’s gaze remained fixed on the dojo entrance. But no matter how long he waited, no one else followed Seungjae inside.

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Once again, he had come alone.

Now that all the kids and their families had arrived, Beomchan refocused, gathering the scattered children into formation. As soon as they lined up properly, they straightened their backs, standing at attention as if they had never been playing around just moments ago.

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“Everyone, attention! Bow to your master!”

“Taekwon! Greetings, master!”

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The kids’ powerful voices filled the dojo. Parents hurriedly pulled out their phones to capture the moment.

“Show your best effort, just like you’ve learned from your master. Understood?”

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“Yes, understood!”

Just as Beomchan was about to officially start the class, he felt a steady gaze from near the entrance. Lifting his head slightly, he met someone’s eyes among the adults. He forced himself to act as if he hadn’t noticed and carried on with the lesson.

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They began with basic taekwondo movements, followed by a taekwondo routine set to a popular song. The kindergarten kids’ sparring session had everyone, parents and non-parents alike, laughing at their tiny legs kicking with all their might.

Next came the board-breaking segment. Some kids succeeded in one go, while others had to try two or three times before they finally broke through.

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At last, it was Woojoo’s turn. His face had gone stiff with nerves. It was understandable—unlike the others, who had all experienced at least one or two open classes before, this was Woojoo’s very first time. On top of that, breaking a board was different from taekwondo routines or sparring. It was a solo task, meaning all eyes were on him.

“Get ready for the break.”

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Beomchan knelt on one knee in front of Woojoo, holding the board firmly in both hands. He adjusted it to a height low enough for Woojoo’s small frame to reach with a kick.

“Hoy!”

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Woojoo stood slightly sideways, taking his kicking stance. As he let out a loud kihap, he could feel all the eyes in the dojo locking onto him.

“Begin the break!”

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“Yaaah!”

His tiny foot shot up, landing squarely on the board with a sharp tak! But it didn’t break. Maybe his strength wasn’t enough.

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“Again.”

It was common for kindergarteners to need at least two or three tries since their legs weren’t strong enough yet. Beomchan didn’t make a big deal out of it and simply called for Woojoo to reset his stance.

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But Woojoo’s expression was off.

Even though he had just seen his friends needing multiple attempts, it was as if he had forgotten that, or maybe it just felt heavier since it was happening to him. His face crumpled, on the verge of tears.

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Beomchan’s shoulders stiffened.

Don’t cry. You can’t cry, Woojoo.

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Telling him outright not to cry would only backfire—most kids took that as a signal to burst into tears. Instead, Beomchan swallowed his words and silently cheered for him, holding the board out once more.

“Woojoo, can you do it again or not?”

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“…I can.”

“Louder. Say, ‘I can do it!’”

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“I can do it!”

A round of encouraging applause erupted from the spectators.

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“Get ready for the break.”

“Hoi!”

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“Begin!”

“Haaah!”

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As if he had never been discouraged, Woojoo let out an even louder kihap and struck with his foot. Beomchan subtly adjusted his grip on the board, applying just enough force to ensure a clean break at the moment of impact.

Snap!

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The wooden board split neatly in half. Woojoo stared at it in shock before his face brightened, his hands waving wildly toward Seungjae. Seungjae, smiling softly, waved back.

Next was the poomsae demonstration for the belt promotion exam. The kids lined up according to their belt colors and performed their routines. Some hesitated, glancing at their friends for guidance, but overall, it was a solid performance. Judging by the expressions of the parents watching, they were thoroughly impressed.

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Seeing their usually playful children standing so serious and focused made them smile in disbelief. It was the result of all their practice.