At first, it’d been a tricky adjustment—coming to the quaint gym in Yeongwon that was comparatively much smaller than the mega gym that’d been just a couple subway stops from his Seoul home. It was smaller, a bit more cramped, and didn’t have more than a few of each piece of equipment. But, it was also much better than the yard he was granted limited access to during his incarceration, so Inkyu had quickly adjusted to the homey spot. Once things got (a little) less chaotic after finally opening Jowangshin’s doors, he’d settled into a routine of hitting up the gym nearly every night after closing.
Despite the place being 24 hours, this time of night was always a particularly quiet one; the 32-year-old attributed it to Yeongwon being a much quieter, more sparsely populated place than the big city. Instead of there being tons of people able to go in and out at all hours, he surmised folks were either finally settling down with family or friends after a long day’s work or sleeping ahead of a pre-dawn start. Inkyu didn’t really have the former, save for his early-sleeping grandparents; nor did nightmares really allow the latter, unless he exhausted himself first.
Even now, the only sounds besides the low courtsey music were the idle hum of the aircon; the abrupt bubbling of a recently used water cooler; the distant squeak of someone powering through their elliptical run and the light buzz of a treadmill belt on the lower floor; and the almost rhythmic sound of skin to heavy bag contact as Inkyu cycled through his first circuit of the night.
Lead hook, round kick, jab, jab. Lead hook, round kick, jab, jab. His movements were deft and fluid, though not particularly sharp. Noise canceling earbuds drowned it all out though, music filtering through his ears instead as he allowed himself to mindlessly flow through the early stages of his routine.
