A few days after Liana took care of him, Leo felt his body almost returning to its original condition. His fever was gone, the pain in his bones had subsided, leaving only a slight lingering fatigue. However, the illness served as a harsh reminder of how fragile his young body was. Despite its agility and potential, it had not yet forged the steel-like resilience he had developed over decades in his previous life.
"Physical condition needs to be improved. Relying solely on future knowledge is not enough. Unexpected things can always arise," Leo thought, staring at the ceiling of his room, which was starting to look dilapidated. The incident with the thugs in the alley, although it ended in victory, had drained his stamina and left him vulnerable to a fever after getting caught in the rain. Protecting Liana, settling debts, and his own survival—all required a solid physical foundation.
A decision was made. That morning, after his mother left for work and he had a meager breakfast, Leo put on his old sportswear—a loose-fitting round-neck T-shirt and slightly faded training pants. He walked towards a small gym located not far from his house. This was not a luxurious fitness center with gleaming equipment and internationally certified instructors. It was an old-school gym, with the distinctive smell of sweat mixed with liniment oil that stung the nose, walls adorned with posters of bodybuilders from the 90s, and the faint thumping of old rock music from a worn-out speaker. The perfect place to train his body without drawing too much attention.
Leo entered with a familiar yet alien atmosphere. Several burly men were lifting weights with suppressed grunts, while others practiced in front of a large, slightly cracked mirror in the corner. Leo ignored them, scanning the equipment. His target was clear: the punching bag. He needed to reassess his punching strength and stamina after the illness, as well as vent some of the lingering emotional turmoil from Liana's encounter with a man named Rian a while ago.
In the corner of the room, several worn-out punching bags hung, full of punch marks. One of them was being used by another teenager, guided by a coach. Leo walked over to the empty punching bag next to it. He began a light warm-up, stretching his muscles. His movements were efficient and measured, contrasting with his otherwise ordinary teenage appearance.
It was then that his eyes inadvertently caught the figure of the coach giving instructions at the adjacent punching bag. The coach had an upright build, a short haircut, and a stern face adorned with a few thin scars—marks of real combat experience. The way he held the pads, his posture when demonstrating punches, it all felt very familiar to Leo.
Leo narrowed his eyes, his heart suddenly beating faster. He tried to get a clearer look at the coach's face when the man glanced over briefly.
"It can't be... him..."
The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment. That face... although younger, without the wrinkles of fatigue and burden he remembered, there was no mistake. It was the face of 'Phantom,' one of the fellow executioners from the Organization in his old life. A specialist in hand-to-hand combat and silent infiltration. Someone who should have been dead, or at least disappeared from circulation years ago in his original timeline.
"He... shouldn't be here! In this time! As a... boxing coach?! What kind of variable is this?!" Leo's mind raced, a danger alarm blaring loudly in his head. Phantom's presence here was a huge anomaly, a drastic deviation from his memories.
Leo tried to calm himself, controlling his shock. He couldn't show an excessive reaction. He shifted his focus back to the punching bag in front of him. He wrapped his hands with the hand wraps he had brought himself, his movements quick and precise.
Then, he began.
THUD! His left jab shot out quickly, hitting the worn surface of the punching bag.
WHACK! Followed by a powerful right cross, rotating his hips to generate maximum power.
CRACK! WHAM! WHAM! A combination of left hooks to the body and a right uppercut struck hard, causing the punching bag, weighing dozens of kilograms, to swing wildly on its chain.
Leo didn't stop. His movements flowed, a brutal blend of precise boxing techniques and explosive power that felt strangely coming from his teenage body. Each punch was released with deadly focus, as if he were facing a real enemy, not just a sandbag. The loud and rapid thudding sounds drew the attention of several people in the gym. They paused their training for a moment, looking over at the corner where Leo was with expressions of surprise.
Leo ignored their gazes. He continued his assault. His punches were so strong that the surface of the punching bag began to show dents in some places, the stitching on its sides stretching. The chain holding it up creaked loudly, as if it might break at any moment.
"Still about 90% short of my peak back then. But for this body... not bad," Leo analyzed in his mind, adjusting his slightly labored breathing.
It was then that he felt a sharp gaze fixed on him. He glanced to the side. The boxing coach—Phantom—had stopped giving instructions to his student. He stood still, staring straight at Leo, the pads in his hands hanging limply. His facial expression was a mix of extreme surprise and a sense of familiarity, as if he not only marveled at Leo's punching power but also recognized Leo.
Leo stopped his punches, letting the punching bag swing slowly until it came to a stop. The atmosphere around them felt momentarily silent, with only the sound of Leo's heavy breathing and the thumping rock music from the speaker.
The coach walked over, his steps calm but calculated. His gaze never left Leo's face.
"You," the coach's voice was deep and slightly hoarse, sounding neutral yet holding a hidden intensity. "Your punches are good. Very good for your age." He stopped right in front of Leo. "Got a minute?" It wasn't a request, more like a subtle command.
Leo looked back into Phantom's eyes. The same coldness he remembered, with doubt and surprise there. 'Does he recognize me? Or is he just interested in my abilities?' Leo weighed his options. Refusing would be suspicious. Following might be dangerous. But the curiosity and need to understand this anomaly were too great.
"Fine," Leo replied briefly, removing his hand wraps.
He followed Phantom to a small room at the back of the gym that served as an office. The room was cramped and cluttered with stacks of papers, used towels, and old boxing equipment. There was only one table and two folding chairs. Phantom closed the door behind them, creating a suffocating sense of privacy.
Phantom sat in one of the chairs, pointing to the other for Leo. He observed Leo in silence for a few seconds, his intense gaze as if trying to solve a complex puzzle.
"I've never seen you here before," Phantom began, his voice low. "But your fighting style... your technique... it's not something a regular teenager learns in a gym like this." He leaned forward slightly. "I've seen that style before. A very long time ago."
Leo remained silent, his face trying to stay expressionless, although his heart was pounding.
Phantom gave a thin smile, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Your face also... reminds me of someone. Someone who should have disappeared a long time ago." He looked straight into Leo's eyes. "Do you recognize me, young man?"
The question hung in the stuffy air. Leo felt Phantom's piercing gaze, as if trying to pierce through his teenage facade. Should he pretend? Dodge?
Before Leo could answer, Phantom let out a small, bitter laugh. "No need to answer. I can see it in your eyes. The same confusion I felt when I first came back."
'Come back?' Leo was stunned.
Phantom sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. His expression changed to a mix of fatigue and dark wonder. "Funny, isn't it? How we ended up here? I died in that cursed alley, shot by a bastard from a rival faction. The next thing I knew, I woke up in my body twenty years younger, back in this time."
Leo's eyes widened in total shock. The revelation hit him like a heavy punch to the gut. Phantom was also a regressor? Just like him?
"So my guess was right," Phantom continued, seeing Leo's reaction. "You too, right? Died and came back?"
Leo was speechless. Only shock and a thousand questions exploded in his mind.
'He also came back? How is that possible? Is death the trigger? But why? Who did it? For what purpose?'
Does this mean... others from the Organization can also come back? How many? Is this some kind of cruel game from a higher entity? Or the last legacy of the Organization itself?
'Who sent us back? What do they want from us? Are we pawns in a bigger plan?'
Leo's thoughts raced wildly. Phantom's presence here, as another person who returned from the future, changed everything. His plan to live quietly, accumulate wealth, and protect Liana suddenly felt naive. The dark past that he thought was just a memory might have come back with him, in the form of people like Phantom.
The world he thought he was starting to master again now felt much more complex, more unpredictable, and far more dangerous.
Phantom looked at the frozen Leo, a bitter smile still playing on his lips. "Long time no see....MR.CROW"