Chapter 57: Lunch in Public

Harin emerged from her room first, a chic dress hugging her curves, paired with a light cardigan and delicate gold earrings. She twirled once in front of the mirror, satisfied with how the soft fabric moved around her legs. "Perfect for a mall stroll," she declared. Ji-hye was next, opting for comfort over flash—a simple casual top tucked into well-fitted pants, layered under an oversized jacket that fell halfway down her thighs. She slipped her hands into the pockets, glancing toward Harin with a small smile. "I’ll never match your glam, but at least I can walk for hours in this." Joon-ho appeared a few moments later, keys in hand. "Car’s ready. Let’s go." The late-morning sun was warm as they stepped outside. His sedan gleamed faintly in the driveway, already cooled inside from the air conditioning. Harin slid into the passenger seat while Ji-hye took the back, the drive filled with easy chatter and snippets of music from the radio. By the time they reached the mall, the weekend crowd was already flowing in and out of the glass doors. They wandered through the first floor, glancing into shop displays, before Joon-ho asked, "What do you want for lunch?" "Beef," Harin said instantly, her voice bright. "It’s been too long since we had a proper meal." That was how they ended up in one of Seoul’s famous Korean BBQ chains, the aroma of grilled meat hitting them the moment they stepped inside. The place was packed—families with kids, couples leaning in close, groups of friends laughing over sizzling plates. Harin leaned toward the hostess. "Do you have a private room?" "Sorry," the young woman replied with an apologetic bow. "We’re fully booked for the day." They were instead shown to a table near the back corner—far enough from the main bustle that it felt more private than most. Menus were scanned quickly, and soon their order was in: galbi, samgyeopsal, pork jowl, steamed eggs, japchae, and bubbling tofu jjigae. While they waited, Ji-hye adjusted her jacket—and that was when a small group of high school students approached, clutching notebooks and phones. "Excuse me," one girl said, her voice shaking slightly. "Are you... Ji-hye? From the national volleyball team?" Ji-hye’s smile softened immediately. "Yes, that’s me." The girls’ faces lit up, and soon they were taking photos with her, passing her a few pieces of paper for autographs. She signed each one neatly, offering a kind word to every fan before they hurried off, whispering excitedly. The meat arrived shortly after, sizzling on the grill in front of them. Thin curls of smoke rose into the air, carrying the rich scent of seasoned beef that made Ji-hye’s stomach growl audibly. Joon-ho picked up the tongs without hesitation, the metal clicking softly as he began placing each slice of galbi on the hot grate. The marbled fat hissed instantly, popping and crackling, the edges slowly curling as the juices sealed in. He turned them with practiced precision, never rushing, adjusting the heat so the meat cooked evenly. Harin leaned back with her chin propped on one hand, watching him with an amused smile. "You’re way too good at this. Were you a chef in a past life?" "I just hate overcooked beef," he replied without looking up. Ji-hye, seated across from him, couldn’t take her eyes off the grill. The aroma alone was intoxicating—savory, smoky, mouthwatering. When the first batch was ready, Joon-ho used the tongs to set a perfectly grilled slice on her plate, then Harin’s, before taking one for himself. Ji-hye picked it up with her chopsticks, wrapping it in a crisp piece of lettuce with a dab of ssamjang and a slice of garlic. She took a bite—and her entire body relaxed. Her eyes half-closed. "God... I haven’t had beef this good in months." She chewed slowly, savoring the rich flavor, the tender texture melting against her tongue. The juices soaked into the rice she paired it with, each grain carrying that smoky depth. Harin grinned at her blissed-out expression. "You look like you just fell in love." "I might have," Ji-hye admitted without thinking, earning a quiet chuckle from Joon-ho. He kept the grill going, adding more galbi alongside thick slices of samgyeopsal. The pork’s aroma was different—heavier, richer—its fat rendering down in glossy rivulets that hissed as they hit the hot metal. Between turns, he cracked eggs into the stone pot for the gyeran-jjim, the soft yellow fluff rising slowly. They rotated between meats, japchae, and spoonfuls of tofu jjigae, the spicy-sour broth cutting through the richness. Ji-hye tried everything with relish, her chopsticks darting from one dish to the next, sometimes stealing a piece from Harin’s plate. At one point, Harin held out a lettuce wrap toward her. "Try it my way—extra garlic, no rice." Ji-hye leaned forward to take it straight from her hand, chewing with a hum of approval. "Mmm... okay, that’s amazing." The table was warm with the sound of sizzling meat, clinking chopsticks, and occasional laughter. It felt less like a public lunch and more like a shared secret between the three of them—one that made Ji-hye feel strangely at home. A few nearby guests noticed the scene and subtly took out their phones. Within minutes, photos of Ji-hye eating in the back corner of the BBQ restaurant were up on SNS, tagged with captions like: Our volleyball goddess spotted in Lotte Premium Outlets today! Even eating, she’s beautiful. The comments started pouring in fast: Who’s the guy with her? He’s too good-looking to be just a friend. Jealous that she’s on a date with some man. Wait, I’ve seen him before—he’s a therapist in Gangnam. Used to work in that famous sports rehab place in Apgujeong. Is Ji-hye injured? Her form dipped a bit this season.I heard he’s got a reputation for "healing touch" therapy. Athletes line up for his sessions. Healing touch? Sounds suspicious. Not like that! He’s legit. My cousin’s a sprinter—said this guy fixed her shoulder in two weeks after other clinics failed. If he’s that good, maybe he’s working with Ji-hye to get her ready for the championships. Still... look at how happy she looks. That’s not just an athlete-coach vibe. You can be happy with your therapist, you know. Or your boyfriend. Meanwhile, at the national team training camp, the cafeteria was buzzing despite it being an off-day. Several players were gathered at a table, phones in hand, chatting between bites of their lunch. "Hey, isn’t this Ji-hye-unnie?" one player said, tilting her screen for the others to see. "That’s her, for sure. Who’s the guy?" another asked, leaning in. A third player scrolled through the comment section. "People say he’s a famous therapist. Used to work in Gangnam. But why’s she having lunch with him on a Saturday?" "Because they’re dating," one teammate guessed with a grin. The conversation only grew louder when Coach Min walked in. "What’s with all the noise?" she asked, setting her tray down. The girls turned their phones toward her. "Coach, is this Ji-hye’s new boyfriend?" Coach Min squinted at the post, then let out a short laugh. "That’s Joon-ho. He’s a therapist from Seoul. Madam Seo introduced him to me." "So he’s the one treating her lately?" "Yes," Min said, picking up her chopsticks. "You’ve all noticed her sharper movements and quicker recoveries—that’s thanks to him." The explanation eased some of the curiosity, but not all. One player muttered, "I’ve never seen her look that happy in training before." Another agreed quietly, "Even in morning drills, she’s been smiling more. She’s... lighter somehow." A third, smirking, whispered, "Guess we know why now. Must be nice having someone like that in your corner." Coach Min gave them a look. "Focus on your own performance. Whatever keeps her motivated is fine by me—as long as she’s playing her best." Still, the buzz lingered around the table, the image of Ji-hye’s bright smile over a plate of galbi now burned into everyone’s minds. Still, the buzz lingered around the table, the image of Ji-hye’s bright smile over a plate of galbi now burned into everyone’s minds. Even the quieter players found themselves sneaking another glance at the post, scrolling through the comments again as if they might find some hidden clue. One of the younger teammates sighed. "If he’s that good, maybe I should book a session with him too." "You’ll need more than a session," another teased. "He’s obviously got magic hands." That earned a round of laughter, but underneath it, there was a strange mix of curiosity and envy in their voices. Ji-hye had always been admired for her focus, but this was different—this was a glimpse into a side of her no one had seen before. Coach Min didn’t join in the gossip, but when she glanced at the post one last time before putting her phone away, she couldn’t help but notice how Ji-hye’s entire expression seemed... freer. It wasn’t just the smile of someone enjoying lunch. It was the smile of someone who had found something—or someone—worth holding on to. And whether that would help or complicate things for the team... remained to be seen.