MTO C1

Chapter 1

 

The Birth of a Saint

“Taekwondo! Greetings, Sir!”

Children standing in rows and columns bowed toward the front in unison.

Among them, the smallest one at the end lost balance and fell forward, bumping his head on the floor. The child beside him quickly helped him back on his feet. Courageously, the little one did not cry.

“All right, warm-ups first! One, two, three, four!”

“Two, two, three, four!”

Following the lead of the instructor at the front, the children began stretching their tiny bodies clumsily but earnestly, pushing their short arms and legs in every direction as far as they could go.

It might have looked like any usual scene inside a Taekwondo dojang with a class for toddlers and elementary kids. But this place was far from an ordinary martial arts school.

Instead of the Korean flag, the wall was adorned with a tapestry bearing the emblem of a black eagle, and on the ground, a thick carpet lay where soft gym mats should have been.

Instead of wearing dobok (traditional Taekwondo uniforms) and belts, the children had loose tunics fastened with thin ribbons.

Yet no one found any of this peculiar.

Sunlight poured through tall arched windows, glistening across the children’s eyes of all different hues.

“Prepare for a straight punch!”

“Taek! Kwon!”

By now, the children had finished warming up and were moving on to forms practice. Their loud shouts, paired with tightly clenched fists held firmly by their waists, were surprisingly solid.

The instructor teaching them, Michel, looked on with pride at his students. Their cheeks reddened from exercise, their round little faces slightly plump, and their eyes fixed on him, sparkling like polished gems.

Remembering their first meeting, he could hardly believe such a miracle had taken place. Back then, the children were so frail that even the slightest push could topple them without resistance. Every time they went to sleep, Michel would listen anxiously, afraid that their tiny breaths might stop altogether.

This miracle would never have been possible without the children’s fierce will to live, Sister Barbara’s devoted service, and the Duke of Eglence’s wholehearted patronage.

Michel’s gaze moved to the back of the hall.

There stood Duke Eglence, watching the class. His sharp black eyes, like those of a hunting falcon, were as calm and penetrating as ever—always fixed on Michel.

At one time, Michel had believed that man’s heart to be as cold and frozen as the land he ruled. But now, he knew that behind the clouds hid a blazing sun—within his chest, a heart passionately alight.

Michel let out a cheerful smile and drove his fist forward.

“One!”

“Hoi!”

The synchronized voices of the children burst out, as beautiful and grand as a symphony played by royal musicians. Michel refocused himself and demonstrated each movement with conviction and sincerity.

Michel’s true name was Geum Jeong-oh.

He was the master of the very first Taekwondo dojang in the Kingdom of Formené as well as the director of the Valois Orphanage.

On the day Jeong-oh’s life spiraled drastically away from its old course, he had been working at his workplace—Usung Taekwondo Dojang1—where a “Point Market” was being held to celebrate the year’s end.

“All right, line up in order! Don’t push from behind!”

The Point Market was an event held only once a year, during Christmas week. On that day, the instructors dressed as Santa Claus and reindeer, welcoming children who used the “points” they had gathered all year to shop for toys and snacks. With such a wide variety of gifts prepared, the children’s excitement was boundless.

“One bouncy ball, please. Wait—no, I’ll buy a yo-yo. No, slime… ah, what should I get?”

“Master, don’t you have any more Pocketmon cards?”

“Seo-hee, your friends are waiting behind you. Sorry, but the Pocketmon cards are sold out!”

“Nooo!”

Dressed in a Santa outfit instead of his usual dobok, Jeong-oh chuckled at the child pulling his hair in despair.

While some instructors dreaded the chaos of the market, Jeong-oh quite liked it. He enjoyed seeing the children’s joy in receiving gifts, as well as their adorable seriousness when deciding what to buy. Some even saved their cherished points just to “buy” a gift for him.

“Market’s closed for today! Now, everyone head home!”

“What about the leftovers?”

“We’ll sell those again at next year’s Point Market.”

“I’m definitely getting LEGO next year!”

Only after wrestling the children who stubbornly refused to leave could the instructors finally breathe easy. After tidying up the wrecked dojang, the clock had already struck past seven.

Startled, Jeong-oh called out to the assistant still cleaning.

“Miss Eun-young, it’s time you went home, isn’t it? You said your boyfriend’s waiting. I’ll finish up here—go on ahead.”

“Oh—thank you! You’ve worked hard today. Merry Christmas in advance!”

“You too, Merry Christmas!”

The part-time teaching assistant hurried away after greeting Director Usung-woo, who had just stepped out of the office.

Silently, Director Usung-woo approached Jeong-oh, who was wiping down the mats.

“No date for you on Christmas Eve?”

Here we go again.

At the beginning of this all-too-familiar conversation, Jeong-oh exhaled a soft snort.

“I’ll go home and read webtoons.”

“Tsk. At your age, still into comics?”

“You don’t get it. These days, if you want to connect with younger kids, webtoons are essential. Essential! Director, you don’t even know what The Demon Knight is, do you?”

“What Knight?”

“It’s just this popular webtoon all the kids are into now.”

As Jeong-oh shook his head at him, the director scowled with disapproval.

“If you liked kids so much, you should have married early and had some of your own.”

“If I got married, a lot of people would cry.”

“You’re not even popular with women—don’t flatter yourself.”

“Excuse me? I’m the most handsome instructor here.”

“You’re the only instructor here; of course the kids like you.”

“Still, I’m more popular than you, Director.”

With surprising agility despite his heavy build, Usung-woo threw a kick, but Jeong-oh easily dodged like a slippery eel. Having known each other for over twenty years, they could read one another’s thoughts with just a glance.

After bickering a while, Jeong-oh finally declared he would go home. Of course, the director insisted on walking him out of the dojang.

“Come over for dinner on Saturday.”

That Saturday happened to be Christmas Day itself. That explained the director’s excessive nagging today.

Jeong-oh replied with a laugh.

“I’ll think about it.”

“What’s there to think about? It’s not like you’ve got a date.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Okay, okay. Then, I’ll get going. Taekwondo!”

Pulling his worn-out padded jacket tight, Jeong-oh stepped quickly away. Since the director never went back inside until he was out of sight, it was best to hurry.

It was twenty years ago, through Director Usung-woo’s volunteer program at his orphanage, that young Jeong-oh was first introduced to Taekwondo. The director had recognized his talent and once dreamed of raising him as a professional athlete.

But as time passed, the gap between Jeong-oh and other students—who had the strong financial support of their families—widened. The director often felt guilt for not being able to support him fully.

Yet Jeong-oh never once resented him. The man had already given him blessings he could not repay in a lifetime. Besides, Jeong-oh found genuine fulfillment not as an athlete but as a children’s instructor in the dojang.

“Brr, so cold…”

Waiting by the crosswalk, Jeong-oh stomped his feet and blew into his hands. The summer had been unusually hot, and now winter was just as bitterly harsh.

Still, the cold air carried the holiday spirit. Streets lined with stores boasted Christmas trees, covered in sparkling lights. Gentle carols echoed amid them, reminding him of the huge tree at the cathedral.

Since Jeong-oh had grown up in a church-run orphanage, he had always attended Christmas Mass before adulthood.

Maybe this Christmas I should visit again.

For years, since leaving the orphanage, he had spent Christmas with Director Usung-woo and his family, but this year felt different. The director’s children, now teenagers, seemed uneasy in his presence.

Even if they did welcome him warmly, he couldn’t keep intruding on family gatherings forever. No matter how kind Usung-woo was to him, Jeong-oh remained only a student—not family.

“…Sigh.”

Surrounded by boisterous children all day, facing solitude afterward brought a quiet loneliness. Perhaps the director was right—it was time for him to fall in love.

But dating simply because of loneliness didn’t seem right either.

Worse, Jeong-oh often struggled to communicate with other adults. Unlike children, who expressed their feelings honestly, adults often buried sincerity beneath layers of wrapping.

He had even gone on a few blind dates, pressured by Usung-woo. At first, the matches showed interest, but once they learned he was orphanage-raised, had no college degree, and only worked at a neighborhood Taekwondo school, their polite smiles hollowed into excuses to leave early.

He told himself it didn’t matter, but each time it happened, he couldn’t help but feel small. That’s why he disliked such occasions.

If I go to the orphanage this Christmas, the nuns would welcome me warmly.

But facing the younger ones—who once believed I’d become a national athlete—would feel too embarrassing.

Forget it. I’ll just stay home and read webtoons.

Letting out that conclusion with a breath, something darted across his vision.

“Huh? Wait—!”

It was a child. A child so small he didn’t even reach up to Jeong-oh’s waist.

The traffic light was still red, and a massive truck thundered down the road at frightening speed. There was no way its driver could notice the tiny child.

Before thought, his body leapt forward. Jeong-oh sprang into the road and pulled the child into his arms. In that instant, a deafening horn blared, and blinding headlights swallowed him whole.

Screech!

CRASH!

Strange… I held him, didn’t I?

As his body collided with the truck and hurled into the air, Jeong-oh realized his arms were suddenly empty. The child was gone.

But before answers could form, his consciousness flickered out—like a light switched off in an instant.

Footnotes:

1. Usung Taekwondo Dojang (우승 태권도장) — “Dojang” refers to a martial arts training hall (especially for Taekwondo).