World Boxing Women's Championship—a historic event soon to take place in country X at a world-class boxing arena. Sports enthusiasts around the globe are anticipating a legendary battle, one that might be etched into the annals of history, as the two most undefeated women in the sport are set to face off.
Though the winner remains uncertain, predictions favor Mia—renowned for her unmatched skills in the ring. She has never given an interview before, but today, the spotlight shifts to her mysterious opponent.
The sound of the televised interview blended with the sharp thwack of punches landing on a heavy bag. Inside a dimly lit training room, shadows danced across the walls, mirroring the tension that lingered in the air.
Mia—also known by her real name, Ivy Lennox—was drenched in sweat, her body glistening under the sparse lighting. She moved with fierce precision, her fists and legs slicing the air with power enough to shatter bone. But suddenly, she stopped. Her breathing was ragged, and her eyes flicked toward her wrist.
"Aiya, is it acting up again?" her coach muttered with concern. "The championship's just around the corner, and now you've hurt your wrist? We can't risk your life for this. Are you sure you want to go on?"
Ivy clenched her fist, the pain in her wrist barely rivaling the storm inside her.
"I'm not that young anymore," she said quietly, her voice laced with resignation. "Maybe it's time to give the younger ones a chance. Send my withdrawal letter... I'm retiring. My father has called me back to run the company."
Her dark, soulful eyes framed by long lashes gave her a striking elegance. With a slim waist and long legs, she might have passed for a delicate socialite. But beneath that beauty was a boxer who shattered records and left legends behind in the ring.
The coach stared at her, stunned. She spoke of age, but he knew there was more—something unspoken beneath her calm.
"I will," he replied solemnly. "Just take care of your wrist. Then, do your best in whatever path you choose. If you ever change your mind and want to make a comeback, this old coach will be waiting."
"I won't be back," Ivy said softly. "My wrist... it won't heal. And I don't want to fight anymore."
She took a deep breath and picked up her bag.
"I'm leaving, coach. Let's meet again when you visit the country."
She walked out, leaving behind a room filled with silence—and her shattered dreams.
"This child has endured too much," the coach whispered to himself, sorrow clinging to every word.
---
Moonlight Pub
10:27 PM
The news flashed on TV screens across the world.
"In a shocking turn of events, championship finalist Mia has officially withdrawn from the World Boxing Women's Championship and announced her retirement. No official reason was given, leaving fans heartbroken and speculating wildly."
But the woman at the center of it all was far from somber. Ivy danced under the dazzling lights of Moonlight Pub, laughter bubbling from her lips as she clinked glasses with her best friend, Mira.
"Wooh-hooh! We finally met again! I missed you like crazy, Ivy!" Mira shouted, wrapping Ivy in a tight hug.
"I'm not going anywhere anymore," Ivy said with a smile. "This time, I'm staying. Let's toast to our friendship!"
For the first time in years, Ivy felt genuinely happy. She felt like her old self again—the mischievous girl who once laughed without a care. The weight of boxing, of expectations, was gone. And now, it was time to live.
The lights twinkled like stars above the dance floor, and the music vibrated through the ground. But as the alcohol flowed, their energy slowly waned, and the haze of intoxication crept in.
---
In another corner of the pub, a scene was upholding.
"You bitch! How dare you defy me? I'll beat you until you beg!" a drunken man yelled, his eyes wild with rage. The young waitress in front of him trembled in fear.
"I-I'm sorry, sir. But I don't sleep with men for money," she whispered, tears glistening in her doe-like eyes.
Just as the man raised his hand to strike, another man stepped forward and kicked him away without hesitation.
"Are you alright?" the stranger asked, concern flickering in his voice.
"Th-thank you for saving me, sir. I'll never forget your kindness," the girl stammered, still shaking.
She tried to walk away, but her legs gave out. Just before she fell, the man caught her by the waist. Their eyes met and locked, the tension between them thick and unspoken.
Back at the bar, Ivy and Mira—now tipsy from a tenth round of drinks—watched the scene unfold from the other side of the pub.
"That girl is clearly seducing him," Mira scoffed. "Her fake innocence is Oscar-worthy."
"Maybe… maybe she's actually innocent," Ivy hiccupped, a dreamy look in her eyes.
"My dear Ivy, I've worked in the entertainment world for years. I know an act when I see one. Trust me, she's good at this."
While Mira continued her rant, elsewhere—in a secluded, soundproofed room—a man sat bound in a chair. Another man stood before him, calm and cold.
Without a word or hesitation, the gun fired.
Boom.