Chapter 59: Sweet and Sharp

They left the boutique with Ji-hye wearing the new floral dress, the soft fabric swaying with each step. The light, airy colors softened her tall, athletic frame, making her look less like a powerhouse athlete and more like she belonged on a spring magazine cover. Joon-ho carried their shopping bags in one hand, the other resting casually in his pocket. Every so often, his knuckles would brush against Ji-hye’s arm as they walked side by side. Harin walked slightly ahead, weaving through the crowd with the confidence of someone who already knew exactly where she was going. The Saturday bustle filled the air—children darting between their parents’ legs, the clink of cutlery from open-front restaurants, the faint perfume of a cosmetics shop they passed. "Your legs look longer in that dress," Harin called back without turning, her voice carrying easily over the chatter. Ji-hye’s cheeks warmed. "It’s the heels," she muttered. "It’s the dress," Harin countered, grinning over her shoulder. "Trust me, I have an eye for these things." Joon-ho glanced sidelong at Ji-hye. "She’s not wrong." Ji-hye ducked her head, pretending to study the shopfronts. "You two really need to stop." "Nope," Harin said, popping the ’p’ as she slowed just enough for them to catch up. "We’re your personal hype team today." They strolled past a fragrance store, where a sales assistant offered them a paper scent strip. Harin accepted, sniffed, then promptly waved it under Ji-hye’s nose. "This one suits you—fresh but still warm. Like you." Before Ji-hye could reply, Joon-ho took the strip from Harin, smelled it once, and tucked it into one of the shopping bags without comment. Past the fragrance shop was a home décor store, where Harin paused to look at a display of decorative candles shaped like seashells. "These are cute. Maybe I’ll get some for the villa." "You already have candles," Joon-ho pointed out. "Not seashell-shaped ones," Harin replied with a mock huff before moving on. They passed an arcade, the bright beeps and chimes spilling into the walkway. Ji-hye slowed for half a second to watch a group of teenagers clustered around a claw machine. Harin caught her glance and smirked. "Want me to win you something?" Ji-hye shook her head. "You’d probably just keep it for yourself." "Guilty," Harin admitted with a laugh. By the time they reached the escalator, the mall’s upper level was awash in warm light from the skylights above. Harin turned to them with a gleam in her eyes. "Alright. Dessert time. I know exactly where we’re going." "Come on," Harin said, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous grin as her heels clicked against the polished floor. "We’re going for dessert. There’s a café here famous for their cakes, and they’ve just added something new to the menu." Ji-hye raised a brow but followed, the hem of her floral dress swaying with each step. Joon-ho trailed a half pace behind, the weight of the shopping bags easy in his grip, his gaze naturally drawn to the two women in front of him. They stepped onto the escalator, the bright chaos of the lower floors gradually fading as they ascended. The hum of conversation softened, the mall music giving way to the faint clinks of cups and plates from above. The top floor opened into a calmer space—warm lighting, potted plants breaking up the seating areas, and the rich, sweet aroma of coffee and baked goods drifting toward them. The café itself was bright and modern, framed with white and pale wood, the kind of minimalist design that made the colors of the desserts pop all the more. Wide windows lined the far wall, revealing a view of a nearby lake. The water shimmered gold in the afternoon light, rippling gently with the breeze. They claimed a corner table by the glass, the kind of spot that felt tucked away even in a busy place. From here, they could watch the people strolling along the lakeside path while still enjoying the quiet bubble of their own conversation. Harin barely glanced at the menu before her finger landed on a glossy photo. "This one. The new Dubai chocolate special." She tapped it twice for emphasis. "I’ve been waiting all week to try it." Ji-hye skimmed through the pages with more care, pausing at the lighter options. "I’ll have tea... and the fresh fruit shortcake. It’s been ages since I had one." Joon-ho’s menu stayed unopened for long. "Black coffee," he said, closing it with finality. When the waiter left, he looked at Harin with a faint smirk. "You sure you can finish that cake? We just had a pretty big lunch." "Of course," Harin replied confidently, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Women have a separate stomach for dessert. Science." Ji-hye chuckled, shaking her head. "That’s not science, that’s just an excuse." "An excuse that works," Harin shot back. The moment of light banter gave way to a softer pause. Ji-hye’s gaze drifted toward the lake, her posture easing just a little. "It really has been a while since I could relax like this. Olympic qualification is getting closer... everyone’s training harder. The tension in the team is different now. Especially for the seniors—this will be their last chance." Joon-ho leaned back in his chair, his tone calm and sure. "It’s important to rest both your body and your mind." Harin’s lips curled, mischief returning. "Especially the body. You know—if you need help relaxing, Ji-hye, you can call me. I’ll call him." She tipped her head toward Joon-ho. "It’s good for both the body—" Ji-hye narrowed her eyes, already bracing herself. "—and the mind," Harin finished smoothly, "and it usually comes with orgasms." "Yah!" Ji-hye lunged forward to pinch her, but Harin twisted away at the last second. Unfortunately, the dodge made Ji-hye’s fingers land squarely on the side of her breast. Harin’s breath caught, a small, involuntary moan slipping past her lips before she slapped her hands protectively over her chest. "Hey—!" Ji-hye froze, mortified. "I—sorry! I wasn’t aiming—" "Mmhm," Harin murmured with a sly look, though her cheeks were tinged pink. She cast a quick glance around—thankfully, no one nearby seemed to have noticed. The tension eased as the waiter returned, balancing their orders on a wooden tray. Harin’s cake was a showpiece—a perfect dome of dark chocolate glaze, gleaming under delicate flecks of gold leaf. Ji-hye’s fruit shortcake was just as pretty, layers of sponge, cream, and fresh berries arranged like an artist’s palette. Joon-ho’s black coffee came in a simple white cup, the steam curling upward in a fine ribbon. They ate slowly, sampling each other’s plates. Harin, reluctant at first, slid her fork through her chocolate cake and offered Ji-hye a bite. Ji-hye returned the favor, sliding a neat forkful of shortcake across the table. "Okay, fine," Harin admitted after chewing. "Yours is good too. But mine is still the best." Ji-hye smiled faintly, wiping a crumb from the corner of her lip. "That’s because you’re biased." "And because I’m right," Harin countered, leaning back in her seat, clearly satisfied. They lingered for a while, the conversation drifting from sweets to softer, easy topics. Harin scrolled through her phone and pointed out a newly opened store in another district. "They’ve got imported handbags you can’t find anywhere else. We should go next weekend," she suggested. Ji-hye tilted her head. "Only if you promise not to make me try on ten outfits in a row again." "No promises," Harin said with a smirk. "Besides, you look good in everything." From there, they traded opinions on the best restaurants in Seoul—Harin swearing by a little Italian place tucked away in a side street, Ji-hye insisting nothing beat the jjajangmyeon place near her high school. Joon-ho stayed quiet for the most part, listening with the faintest smile, until Harin turned the conversation toward "the person who always takes the longest to get ready." "It’s Ji-hye," Harin said instantly. "She probably times her hair drying with a stopwatch." "I do not," Ji-hye protested, though she laughed. "If anything, it’s you. You take forever to pick shoes." "That’s because shoes make the outfit," Harin replied, feigning offense. "Meanwhile, you’d show up in sneakers to a gala if I let you." Joon-ho chuckled quietly, earning a glance from both of them. "It’s both of you," he said, deadpan. They laughed together, the café’s warm light and the hum of nearby conversations wrapping around them like a cocoon. By the time they stepped outside, the sky had shifted toward a soft orange glow, the sun dipping lower over the horizon. The mall’s glass walls reflected the fading light, and the air had cooled just enough to carry a hint of evening crispness. The walk back to the parking lot was unhurried, Harin and Ji-hye still teasing each other about their so-called "getting ready" habits. Joon-ho carried their bags in one hand, his other briefly brushing Ji-hye’s lower back as they reached the car. The drive toward the villa was quiet in a comfortable way. The road ahead was bathed in the last warm streaks of sunlight, the hum of the engine blending with the faint music from the radio. Ji-hye gazed out the window, watching the sky turn from gold to amber. As they pulled up to the gates, Ji-hye’s eyes caught on a familiar car parked out front. Her stomach tightened. "That’s Coach Min’s car," she murmured. "She must be waiting inside." Joon-ho parked smoothly, cutting the engine. None of them moved immediately, the weight of the unexpected visit settling in. Eventually, they stepped onto the drive, the evening air cooler now, carrying the faint scent of grass from the nearby training grounds. Inside the villa, the faint sound of someone moving around reached them even before they entered the lounge.