The official weigh-in placed four scales beneath four cameras.
Nobody explained why measuring body weight required a national broadcast.
The answer stood behind the scales in the form of three sponsor walls, two commentary desks, and a prediction market updating above our heads.
Thirty-six hours had passed since the false video appeared.
It remained the only subject reporters wanted to discuss.
PL stood near the media barrier with a black folder against her chest.
"Questions must concern fighter health, weight, rules, or event preparation," she announced. "Any attempt to question non-fighting students about unlawfully distributed material will end the interview."
The first reporter raised his hand.
"Does the foundation believe the leaked video has affected NS's preparation?"
PL pointed toward the exit.
Two security workers removed him before he could argue.
That answered the remaining reporters.
June sat in the second row between Bunny and Cherry. She wore a cap low over her face, but every camera still found her. TZ remained beside them until NS's name was called.
Kitty stood with NC, Anna, and Jihye on the opposite side.
She had spoken to me only about medication, wrist pain, sleep, and the event-day symptom checklist.
She had not spoken about us.
JP stepped onto the first scale.
"Seventy-six point four kilograms," the official announced.
JP looked toward KM.
"Write down point four. I worked hard for it."
KM removed his jacket and stepped onto the other scale.
"Eighty-five point six kilograms."
Nine kilograms separated them.
The number looked larger when both men stood face-to-face.
KM's shoulders were wider. His neck appeared almost level with his jaw. JP tried to keep his expression relaxed, but the cameras captured the moment he looked from KM's hands to his own.
"Final prediction?" the announcer asked.
KM stared at JP.
"He won't see Round Four."
The crowd reacted immediately.
JP's smile remained in place.
"That's okay. I hear it is shy around Engineering students."
One of KM's corner men laughed before remembering which side he represented.
KM stepped closer.
"You keep making jokes like the fence will laugh with you."
"No. I make jokes because your personality needs medical intervention."
The officials separated them before the exchange became useful to VT's cameras.
As JP turned away, he looked toward the VIP seats.
Thoon was not there.
He checked twice.
The final medical examinations occurred behind movable screens in the same hall.
JP's resting pulse was too high on the first check.
"Nerves," he said.
"Sit for five minutes," the physician replied.
"Can I lie down for five years?"
"Sit."
I remained beside him while Mr. Kim reviewed the corner documents again.
The white towel lay folded on top.
JP kept looking at it.
"You remember what we agreed," he said.
"I decide when you can no longer defend yourself."
"You look at me first."
"If there is time."
"Make time."
Mr. Kim closed the folder.
"The referee, physician, or corner may stop the fight. Nobody needs your permission after you lose the ability to protect yourself."
JP's second pulse reading passed.
The physician examined his pupils, balance, grip, and existing bruises. He received full clearance.
His family still believed he had four academic assessments.
His mother sent a photograph of food waiting in their refrigerator.
His little sister sent another drawing.
This time, JP stood on a podium while a much larger man lay asleep beside it.
LITTLE SISTER: I DREW YOUR EXAMS.
JP stared at the picture.
"She understands the education system better than we thought," he said.
He saved it as his lock screen.
My examination took longer.
The physician tested the healing wrist, reviewed the eleven-second signal loss, and asked whether I had experienced another visual disturbance.
Kitty stood behind him with her private notebook.
I answered before she could.
"One brief image during Pathology. No missing time or loss of awareness."
The physician looked at Kitty.
"Is that accurate?"
"Yes."
It was the first answer we had given together since the leaked video.
He cleared me subject to a final examination on main-event day.
When NS passed his examination, the officials brought us to the center scale for the promotional faceoff.
No weight was announced because our match had no championship division.
The sponsor called it a settlement contest.
NS stopped inches from me.
The private recording remained unknown to me.
The public video remained between us.
"Anything to say?" a commentator asked.
NS looked directly into my eyes.
"He already said enough."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
The officials placed their arms between us.
NS stepped back.
"Tomorrow."
I tried to follow him, but Kitty caught my uninjured arm.
"Not here."
"He received something."
Jihye approached from behind her.
"Then ask him after the cameras leave."
I opened NS's contact.
My message did not deliver.
He had blocked me.
The university did not cancel classes between the weigh-in and the opening fight.
Our Emergency Medicine lecturer called that decision proof that education could survive anything except unpaid tuition.
She arranged six chest-trauma stations across the laboratory.
At the first, we identified rib fractures and signs of underlying lung injury. At the second, we assessed a patient with unequal chest movement and absent breath sounds. The final station required us to recognize internal bleeding before the mannequin's electronic pulse disappeared.
JP volunteered to be the conscious casualty.
"Patient reports severe anxiety caused by educational neglect," he said from the examination bed.
NC placed a stethoscope against his shirt.
"Patient also reports an inability to remain quiet. Chronic condition."
"Any allergies?" Anna asked.
"Engineering students."
"Exposure expected tomorrow."
"Then prescribe avoidance."
Our lecturer handed Anna the scenario card.
"Your patient received a forceful kick to the lower ribs. He has increasing pain, shallow breathing, and tenderness over the left upper abdomen. What concerns you?"
The room became quieter.
"Splenic injury," Anna said. "We monitor for shock and arrange urgent imaging and surgical assessment."
The lecturer nodded.
JP sat up.
"Could we select a scenario where the patient wins?"
"The patient wins by reaching appropriate care alive."
"Medical people define victory with very low standards."
I looked at the place beneath his ribs where KM's first body kick would probably land.
"Keep your elbow down tomorrow," I said.
"I know."
"Don't turn away when he attacks the body."
"I know."
"And stop looking at the fourth-round clock."
JP glanced toward his phone.
Thoon had viewed his latest training update without replying.
"I know," he repeated.
After class, we crossed the dry fountain plaza toward the dormitories. The lake had fallen low enough that maintenance workers had closed the eastern walkway. Wind lifted dust from the exposed shoreline and carried it through the campus despite dark clouds overhead.
Near the Business Building, Thoon walked beside KM.
She saw JP.
For one second, he expected her to stop.
She touched KM's arm and continued speaking as though JP belonged to the crowd behind us.
JP kept walking until we reached the covered bridge.
"Still grammatically positive?" he asked.
Anna understood without needing the message explained.
"No," she said. "That was an asshole sentence written without words."
JP laughed.
The sound broke halfway through.
"Four rounds," he said. "Then at least she has to see me."
"She already sees you," I replied. "That is why she knows where to aim."
Mr. Kim waited at the dormitory entrance with the final fight checklist.
No sparring.
No extra conditioning.
No alcohol.
No unfamiliar food.
Eight hours of sleep.
JP read the final line twice.
"This document has become unrealistic."
Mr. Kim took his phone and placed it inside JP's locker.
"Tonight, KM cannot improve enough to matter. You can only become tired enough to help him."
JP looked at the closed locker.
"What if somebody calls?"
"They can call tomorrow."
The person JP wanted did not call that night.
She waited until twelve minutes before his fight.
JP's fight took place the following evening.
The subway strike entered its sixth day. Two major bus depots had joined it, and students walked from three districts because VT's private shuttles accepted ticket holders but not the medical volunteers assigned outside the arena.
Water workers gathered across City Square with empty bottles tied to their signs.
WE KEEP YOUR CITY ALIVE.
STOP POISONING THE WATER.
Police barriers prevented them from approaching the entrance.
Inside, every concession stand sold imported water beneath the VT logo.
The crowd filled the sports hall before the opening fight.
Med Track occupied one corner of the lower seats. NC, Anna, Jihye, Kitty, Bunny, Cherry, June, and TZ sat within the same row for the first time in weeks.
Nobody called it reconciliation.
For one night, fear assigned the chairs.
NS sat beside June with his hands folded. He had not shown her the complete private recording. He had not unblocked my number.
KM's Engineering supporters filled the opposite side in black shirts.
Shinso stood near the aisle with HTN and SRM. Thoon occupied the seat beside them.
She arrived after JP had entered the locker room.
He did not know she was there.
Mr. Kim wrapped JP's hands while I checked the corner bag.
Water.
Ice pack.
Petroleum jelly.
Gauze.
Mouth guard.
White towel.
JP wore the soccer jersey he had worn during the nightclub brawl. It belonged to the club whose victory had helped turn one fight into an entire room of fists.
"Lucky shirt," he said.
"It was covered in somebody else's drink and your blood," I replied.
"Luck has a smell."
"That smell is poor laundry."
He adjusted the tape around his wrist.
Four empty squares remained visible.
"When each round ends, fill one," he said.
"You are not bringing the notebook into the cage."
"Metaphorically."
"I am not metaphorically holding your towel."
His phone began vibrating inside the locker.
The screen showed Thoon's name.
JP froze.
Mr. Kim continued organizing the wraps as though he had not seen it.
"Answer or don't," I said. "The fight begins in twelve minutes."
JP carried the phone into the shower corridor and closed the door.
He answered with his voice lower than usual.
"Hi."
"You sound terrified," Thoon said.
"I am protecting my vocal strength."
"I saw the weigh-in."
"Then you saw my point four kilograms. Historic."
"JP."
He stopped joking.
"Yes?"
"Do you still think you can reach the fourth round?"
"I know I can."
"You don't know."
"Then why call?"
Thoon leaned against the VIP corridor outside the spectator section. Music from the arena moved beneath her voice.
"Because I want to make it interesting."
JP looked at the four boxes on his wrist.
"How?"
"Last four full rounds with KM. If you are still standing when Round Four ends, I will stop going out with him for one weekend."
JP forgot to breathe.
"What?"
"One weekend. You and me. For real. No group, no jokes, and no KM. You choose where we go."
"You mean a date?"
"If that word helps you survive."
"Do you promise?"
Thoon watched KM's walkout team pass at the far end of the corridor.
"Reach the end of Round Four," she said. "Then ask me again."
The call ended.
JP remained inside the shower corridor until I knocked.
"Two minutes," I said.
He opened the door.
His fear had changed shape.
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"JP."
"She said if I complete four rounds, she will stop seeing KM for one weekend and go out with me. A real date."
"No."
"That was my first reaction too."
"No, as in she is using you."
"I know."
"She knows KM can hurt you."
"I know."
"Then the promise means nothing."
JP looked toward the locker-room entrance.
"It means four rounds."
"You were supposed to survive intelligently, not chase a clock for her."
"What is the difference if the clock keeps me standing?"
"The difference is what happens when you should stop."
His name echoed from the tunnel announcement.
JP placed his mouth guard between his teeth, then removed it long enough to speak clearly.
"Look at me before you throw the towel."
"Don't make me choose between your brain and a weekend she never meant."
"Then don't choose early."
He walked toward the tunnel.
Thoon returned to her seat beside SRM.
"What did you tell him?" SRM asked.
"Motivation."
"You aren't actually going out with him."
Thoon looked toward KM's corner.
"He isn't actually lasting four rounds."
She sent KM one message before the walkout music began.
THOON: I TOLD HIM FOUR FULL ROUNDS GETS HIM ONE WEEKEND.
KM read it in his locker room.
KM: YOU MEANT IT?
Thoon smiled.
THOON: OF COURSE NOT.
KM placed the phone beside his gloves.
His coach called him toward the tunnel.
He looked at the round clock above the door.
"Four full rounds," he said.
Then he smiled for the first time that evening.
JP entered the arena beneath the anthem of his soccer club.
Med Track stood together.
Even NS stood.
JP raised both hands as if the cheers belonged to a man with better odds.
He saw Thoon beneath the VIP lights.
She lifted four fingers.
JP touched the four squares on his wrist.
KM entered to Engineering chants that shook the metal barriers.
Inside the cage, the referee repeated the VT rules.
Protect yourself at all times.
Obey the break.
A knockdown could begin a ten-count.
A corner towel ended the contest immediately.
The referee sent both fighters back.
I pressed the folded white towel beneath my arm.
"Don't trade at the fence," I told JP. "Move right. Protect the body. Make him reset. Forget Round Four. Win the second in front of you."
JP inserted his mouth guard.
His eyes moved past me toward Thoon.
The first bell rang.
KM crossed the cage before JP completed his opening circle.
His first kick struck JP's ribs hard enough to lift one foot from the floor.
JP reached the fence.
The round clock began counting down from three minutes.
For the first time, four rounds stopped being a number.
They became a distance.