Beast under weights
Ch#1~
The gym’s most infamous trainer Leonardo— was his name, was a man who looked less like a coach and more like a mafia boss who had wandered in by mistake.
He was massive—built like a hulk, every vein and muscle carved to perfection. Tattoos sprawled across his chest, arms, and neck, coiling like dangerous warnings. His cold stare made even the most confident clients break into a nervous sweat before the workout even began. He didn’t need to raise his voice; the way he looked at you was enough to make you regret signing up for the session.
And yet, he was filthy rich. No one quite knew how—rumors said he owned half the equipment in the gym, others whispered about side businesses, none of them legal-sounding.
At first, new clients would sign up in droves, lured in by his dangerous aura and ridiculous good looks. Some came thinking they’d be “motivated” by his presence. Others were simply curious to be trained by a man who looked like he could break bones with his bare hands.
But they never lasted.
Because once the session started, he was merciless.
“Two hundred push-ups. Now.”
“Keep running until I tell you to stop.”
“You call that a squat? Again. Lower. Lower.”
“Pathetic! Are you a sloth? Speed up”
He shoved impossible workloads onto them without a shred of sympathy. Clients would collapse on the mats, gasping for air, swearing they’d never come back. Some left mid-session, fleeing the gym altogether. Others cried. He didn’t care. To him, weakness wasn’t worth training.
By the end of the month, every single one of his assigned clients had disappeared.
The manager was at his wit’s end.
“You’re supposed to train them, not kill them!” the poor man groaned, pulling at his thinning hair. “Do you know how much money we lose every time someone walks out?! You’re scaring them away, all of them!”
The trainer just shrugged, leaning back with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest, an amused smirk playing at his lips.
“Then stop sending me soft ones.”
