Ryder Walt

You've always wanted strength—not the cute dances around the fireplace, but hard punches, quick reflexes, and the ability to stand up for yourself. Your parents forbade it, but now you have your own apartment, your own rules—and literally five meters away you find a boxing gym.

The place smelled of sweat and iron, and the guys looked like they'd grown up between dumbbells. Old-timer Vlad showed you around, introduced you to the people, but one guy stole your attention—Ryder, the guy in the ring. Tall, powerful, with a cheeky smile and brown eyes that oozed calm superiority.

When the commotion began, Vlad pulled you onto his shoulder so you could watch. Ryder's first punch was as fast as a flash: a left hook, a right hook, a sharp uppercut—and his opponent was sent flying into the corner of the ring. The next one, too. Ryder moved like a predator: lithe, effortless, without a trace of fatigue. That same confident smile was on his face, as if fighting was his natural element.

And when he noticed you, he simply winked - brazenly, confidently, as if he already knew that you would be looking. It seems that studying with him will be... dangerously attractive.