Flashback; January 2025, Istanbul.

In the sweltering heat of the soundproof underground room, the boxing ring stands as a silent witness to a brutal fight. Dozens of people cheer at every punch that lands, skin against skin. An opponent who refuses to go down feels like defeat.

One punch, two punches. Almost too many to count. Bruises bloom in every shape and size.

That day, Jauhar loses control completely. His image as a role model and boxing legend from his hometown—his very identity—crumbles in front of his opponent. No one can believe that an undefeated boxer like him is nearly finished by someone else.

Punch after punch follows, until his opponent lands another blow to Jauhar’s face. Jauhar’s eyes turn silent and dark. He drops, drenched in sweat, blood spilling from his mouth. The crowd roars as the referee counts, watching Jauhar’s muscular body lie weak in the ring, showing no sign of getting back up. The coach watches in disbelief; even at the final count, Jauhar still hasn’t risen. Victory goes to the opponent.

“Shit,” Jauhar groans as his eyes open again, fixed on the referee holding his opponent’s hand aloft. His opponent’s face—fierce and arrogant—twists into a contemptuous smile.

Jauhar’s emotions boil over, his pride crushed by someone younger. He stands again, gathering his energy and screaming as if possessed. Still in boxing gloves, he yanks them off, leaving the fabric wrapped tight around his fingers. Without a word, his body surges forward as he strikes and punches his opponent with brutal, merciless force.

Unaware that the opponent is on the verge of death, the referee and coach drag Jauhar away. His sharp eyes stay locked on the other fighter; his emotions are still at their peak. People around him intervene, offering a bottle of mineral water and urging him to calm down, until his breathing returns to a normal rhythm.

Jauhar looks back at his opponent, who stares vacantly; he is truly on the verge of death. Feeling no pity, Jauhar limps away, his body still unsteady after the fight.

He whispers, “You’re lucky today, all the victories are on your side.”

“But remember, you little bastard, I am the true legend. You’re nothing compared to me.”

“Next time, just give up. Or I’ll tear your body to pieces until you’re truly dead in my hands. Remember that.”

His opponent’s gaze remains vacant. Jauhar only smirks and pats his shoulder. Those around them assume it isn’t as bad as before. Jauhar leaves without paying attention to anyone. His breathing is still uneven. He flings the door open; the coach follows, and the atmosphere gradually stabilizes.

March 2025, Konya.

That night, he stared up at the pitch-black sky. No stars shone, and the moon that usually kept him company was nowhere to be seen. Before long, a light rain began to fall, as if the universe understood how Jauhar felt that night.

Jauhar Widjaan turned 30 this year. Once, his boxing career was illustrious. At his peak, he was a professional boxer known throughout Turkey. His face was splashed across newspapers, advertisements, and broadcasts. For years, he remained undefeated, inheriting the skills of his father, a former professional boxing trainer. Then an unpleasant incident last January drew the media’s attention and instantly changed his life. After his violent, unethical attack on an opponent, his threatening remarks were overheard by several people and spread through the local news.

The incident spread worldwide, given that he had fought in rings across many countries and always returned victorious to Turkey, his homeland. Reporters approached him every time he stepped outside. His privacy was repeatedly invaded, and his temperament became a target of public scrutiny. People often blamed it for the abrupt end of several romantic relationships. Rumors swirled. Haters followed him everywhere. In the end, he had destroyed his own life.

Day after day, he was lost in his own thoughts. Every afternoon, he trained in his basement boxing room, a place where he could let his body and emotions move freely. It was a safe space, away from judgment. He had also taken various medications after seeing a psychiatrist for his mental health issues and deep trauma.

He had his own fears. He grew up in a strict, patriarchal family; and his father’s arrogance, harshness, and stubbornness left lasting scars. His father had shaped Jauhar’s competitive, aggressive, superior, and egocentric nature, making it difficult for him to reconcile with himself. When Jauhar decided to open himself up to others again, he did it in his own way. He often visited cafes for a cup of coffee and a quick chat with strangers. Many people recognized him, but after the incident a few months earlier, most hesitated to greet him after noticing the change in his sharp, lifeless eyes; they were no longer as bright as before.