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As he reached them, his sharp eyes flickered toward Nok, and a warm smile softened his otherwise stern features. "Nok," he said in a gravelly but kind voice, inclining his head slightly.

Nok smiled back and offered a quick greeting in Thai, her tone warm and familiar.

Kru Wichan gave a nod and then looked straight at Damon. As he looked over Damon\'s body, his face changed into a sharp look.

He moved closer and slowly went around Damon. He looked him in the eyes, but Damon stood tall and kept his cool.

Kru Wichan stopped in front of him and gave him a nod of approval.

"Very nice," he said in his accented English, his words slow and deliberate. "You… must be Damon Crozz." The pronunciation was slightly off, but his voice carried respect.

Damon nodded, offering a polite smile. "Yes, sir. That\'s me."

Kru Wichan tilted his head, his expression neutral but his eyes still studying Damon as though trying to peel away his layers. "Victor and somchai… say you good. Strong. But I will see," he said, tapping his temple with a knowing grin.

Kru Wichan\'s smile faded as he turned to Nok and spoke in Thai, his tone calm but inquisitive.

"Ph̀x k̄hxng khuṇ xyū̀ thī̀h̄ịn"

(Where is your father?)

Damon raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He couldn\'t understand the words, but the tone was clear enough to catch his attention.

He glanced at Nok, silently hoping for some kind of translation.

Nok rolled her eyes slightly and replied in Thai, her tone lighter. "Pĥx b̂xk h̄ı̂ c̄hạn pl̀xy k̄heā ẁāy kạb khuṇ"

(\'He said to leave him with you.\')

Damon tilted his head, trying to piece together what was being said.

He had a growing sense that he\'d have to start learning the language sooner rather than later.

Nok turned to Damon and translated loosely, "He\'s leaving you in his care."

Wichan let out a sharp exhale, his smile collapsing into a deadpan look. "Xị̂ b̂ā,"(\'Idiot.\') he muttered under his breath as he shook his head slightly.

Damon caught the tone but didn\'t fully understand, his brow furrowing. "What did he say?"

Nok smirked, leaning casually against the wall. "Nothing important. Just something about my dad being a little too trusting."

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Damon\'s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Nok, his curiosity bubbling over. "Your dad… who\'s your dad?" he asked, his tone almost cautious.

Nok\'s lips curled into a small, amused smile. "Your coach," she replied simply.

Damon blinked, processing her words. "Kru Somchai?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

She nodded, the playful smile still on her face.

Before Damon could respond, Kru Wichan interrupted, his gruff voice cutting through the moment. He looked at Nok and spoke firmly, "Show him his room."

Damon glanced at Nok, who sighed lightly but motioned for him to follow her. As they started walking, Wichan called out from behind them, "Change and come train."

Damon stopped in his tracks for a moment, nodding back toward Kru Wichan. "Got it," he said, his tone respectful.

As he resumed following Nok, his thoughts raced. Kru Somchai\'s daughter. It all made sense now, the familiarity with fighting, the confident demeanor, even her connection to Victor.

It explained everything, but it still surprised him.

He hadn\'t expected someone like Nok to have such a strong connection to his coach.

Nok glanced back at him briefly, catching the contemplative expression on his face. "What?" she asked casually.

Damon shook his head, a faint smile forming on his lips. "Nothing. Just thinking… it makes sense now."

"What does?" she asked, her tone light but curious.

"You," Damon replied, his smirk widening slightly. "The way you carry yourself. The fighting knowledge. It all clicks now."

Nok chuckled softly, shaking her head as they reached a small room. She gestured toward it with a nod. "Here\'s your room. Get settled, then head to the training area."

Damon looked at the modest but clean setup. It was simple, just a bed, a small desk, and a window overlooking the training grounds.

He dropped his bag on the bed and turned to Nok. "Thanks," he said genuinely.

She gave him a short nod, becoming serious as she said that... speaking from experience. "Better hurry. Kru Wichan doesn\'t like to wait."

Damon stood silently for a moment, taking in the room.

It was simple, modest, and uncluttered, just the basics.

The bed was small but sturdy, with neatly folded sheets, and a desk sat tucked into the corner.

What drew his attention most, though, was the wide window panel that spanned one wall.

It framed a peaceful view of nature, lots of trees and a body of water that sparkled in the afternoon sun.

Due to the view, the room seemed bigger and calmer than it really was.

He sighed softly, feeling a brief wave of calm. "Not bad," he muttered to himself.

Setting his bag on the bed, Damon unzipped it and began pulling out his belongings.

He laid out his training attire, a fitted sleeveless shirt, shorts, and wraps for his hands.

Each item was neatly placed on the bed in preparation.

As he worked, he let his thoughts wander. He could still hear faint echoes of the rhythmic "ha!" and the heavy thuds from the training area, a reminder of what lay ahead.

A slight smirk crossed his face as he glanced toward the window one more time.

"Alright," he said under his breath, rolling his shoulders. "Time to see what Kru Wichan\'s got for me."

With his training clothes ready, Damon began to change.

Damon stepped out of the room, adjusting his hand wraps as he walked.

As he walked toward the training area, the steady thuds of punches, elbows, and kicks got stronger.

He looked at Kru Wichan, who was working hard on the heavy bag in a way that seemed almost supernatural.

Kru Wichan\'s moves were smooth but powerful, and each hit was the perfect mix of force and accuracy.

His fists snapped forward in rapid combos, the bag jerking violently with every hit.

A sharp left hook followed by a brutal low kick sent the bag swinging, the chain above creaking under the strain.

Damon paused, momentarily entranced.

He\'d seen Kru Somchai train before, but Wichan\'s technique had a different flavor, a raw aggression tempered by unshakable discipline.