Chapter 71: Confident

The familiar scent of polished wood and faint resin hit Ji-hye the moment she stepped into the training hall, that distinct mixture of gym varnish and ball grip that always made her think of early mornings and long rallies. The echoes of squeaking soles and the low thump of balls bouncing somewhere in the distance were a kind of music she’d grown up with. "Morning, Ji-hye!" one teammate called from across the court. Another waved while stretching against the wall, her hair still damp from a quick shower. Ji-hye returned the greetings with a bright smile and a small wave, her sports bag slung casually over her shoulder. She fell into step beside a small group heading toward the changing room—three juniors chatting animatedly about last night’s match highlights on TV, and the captain, who was already in mid-discussion about today’s planned drills. The moment they stepped inside, the warmth from the heaters wrapped around them, carrying a faint, mingled musk: the clean scent of laundry detergent clinging to fresh uniforms, the subtle tang of deodorant, and just a trace of the rubbery smell from sneakers. The locker room was alive with movement—doors swinging open with metallic clangs, zippers hissing as bags were rummaged through, the soft thud of knee pads dropping onto benches. A couple of girls were seated, tying laces with practiced speed, while others stood in front of the mirrors, pulling hair into tight ponytails or braids. The low hum of conversation filled the air, threads of chatter weaving between topics—last night’s game stats, weekend plans, and playful bets about who’d win the warm-up sprints. Ji-hye set her bag on the bench and began unzipping it, the sound sharp against the soft background noise. The steady rhythm of this place—the smells, the sounds, the casual camaraderie—always had a grounding effect on her. Ji-hye peeled off her hoodie in one smooth motion, revealing her sports bra underneath. The cotton fabric stretched lightly over her chest, her skin still flushed from the warm air in the room. It took all of three seconds for the captain’s eyes to narrow. "Well, well, what’s this?" The words dripped with mock suspicion. She stepped closer, her gaze locked on Ji-hye’s collarbone as if she were inspecting a crime scene. Her fingertips brushed the hollow at the base of Ji-hye’s neck before sliding upward to graze along her jawline. Ji-hye tensed, the warmth in her face spiking into a full flush. "These..." The captain’s thumb pressed lightly against a faint, dark bloom peeking from under the bra strap. "...are definitely not mosquito bites." "Ohhh?" Another senior leaned in, tilting her head for a better look. Her eyes caught on the shadowed half-moon mark just above the swell of Ji-hye’s breast. "Our Ji-hye had quite the night, didn’t she?" Before Ji-hye could shuffle away, the captain slipped smoothly behind her, her palms settling over Ji-hye’s shoulders. Then, without a shred of hesitation, she slid her hands down, cupping Ji-hye’s breasts through the sports bra and giving them a firm, deliberate squeeze. The room erupted in a chorus of gasps and laughter. "Bet your waist is sore, too," the captain teased in a sing-song murmur, her breath brushing Ji-hye’s ear. "And what about down here?" One hand drifted toward her hip, hovering suggestively before giving the waistband of Ji-hye’s sweatpants a little snap. "Still wet from last night?" Ji-hye squeaked, twisting away, but the noise in the locker room was already building—giggles, whistles, and mock tsk-tsks. "She’s blushing!" a junior piped up from the corner, grinning wide. "She’s glowing," another senior corrected, her eyes scanning Ji-hye like a map. "Ohhh, look at that—love bites here... and here..." She gestured to the mottled marks scattered along Ji-hye’s shoulders. "Someone was very thorough." As Ji-hye stepped out of her sweatpants, the teasing only escalated. "Oh my god—look at her thigh!" a younger player exclaimed, pointing to a faint shadow high on Ji-hye’s inner thigh. "Who even does that?" "I think we all know who," another senior said, drawing out the words like a punchline. The room dissolved into louder laughter. Ji-hye, flustered but fighting a losing battle against the small, smug warmth curling in her chest, lifted her chin just a little. Yes, Joon-ho left those marks. Every single one. And damn it, she was proud. Unfortunately, the captain caught the shift in her expression instantly. "Ohhh? Feeling proud, are we?" She punctuated the words with a sharp pinch to Ji-hye’s waist. Ji-hye squealed, jerking forward. "We’re going to be late!" she blurted, fumbling for her uniform top. She tugged it over her head with record speed and bolted for the door, her ponytail swishing behind her like a flag of retreat. Her exit only set off another round of laughter that echoed against the tiled walls, the captain calling after her, "Tell your boyfriend he’s making practice a lot more interesting for us!" When they finally walked out together, the court was already bright under the overhead lights. Players split into small groups—some jogging easy laps, others doing dynamic stretches along the sidelines. Ji-hye joined a pair of teammates in the middle of the court, bending into hamstring stretches as they exchanged light banter. Halfway through a laugh, one of the juniors spotted movement by the court entrance. "Coaches," she murmured, nodding toward the approaching figures. And not just Coach Min. Joon-ho was walking beside her. That was all it took—every nearby player suddenly smirking at Ji-hye. She caught on quickly, feeling her pulse spike and her ears grow warm. By the time the coaches reached the center of the court, all the players had lined up neatly. Coach Min began her briefing, her voice calm and authoritative as she outlined the morning’s focus. But it was useless—every eye in the lineup kept flicking toward Joon-ho. Coach Min noticed. With a small sigh, she stopped mid-sentence. "Do you girls have questions about our guest today?" A senior stepped forward. "Will he be working with the team?" "Yes," Coach Min replied. "We’re consulting on a recovery and treatment program to maintain fitness during the packed Olympic schedule. He’ll be monitoring your conditions alongside the coaching staff." Before anyone could respond, the captain raised her hand—slow, deliberate—and arched one eyebrow like she was about to serve match point."And what about his relationship with Ji-hye?" The question cracked through the court like a perfectly timed spike. Heads swiveled almost in unison, the sound of sneakers squeaking as girls shifted to get a better view. Even two of the assistant coaches leaned forward, their clipboards momentarily forgotten. Coach Min’s lips parted, her expression unreadable, but Joon-ho didn’t give her the chance. "She’s my woman," he said, calm as a still net, his voice carrying across the court without a trace of hesitation. The silence that followed was so sharp it almost hummed. Then— Chaos. Juniors squealed outright, some grabbing each other’s arms like they were watching a drama unfold live. A couple of seniors exchanged amused glances, shaking their heads like they’d just confirmed a long-running bet. Off to the side, one junior whispered far too loudly, "Wow... I wish my boyfriend would say that in front of everyone." Ji-hye wanted the polished floor to open up and swallow her whole. Her face was burning, the blush creeping down her neck, and she was suddenly very aware of every set of eyes flicking between her and Joon-ho. The captain stepped forward, her arms folding across her chest in mock challenge. Her smirk was razor-sharp. "Confident words. But are you confident in your skills? Because we’re not letting go of Ji-hye that easily." Joon-ho met her gaze without so much as a blink. "If my skills weren’t good, I wouldn’t be standing here right now," he replied, voice still steady. "You can see Ji-hye’s improvement on the court for yourself." The captain laughed—loud, genuine, and just a little wicked. "Oh, we’ve seen the results. On the court... and off it." That set off a ripple of snickers from the sidelines, a few players covering their mouths while others shot Ji-hye knowing looks. One junior even mouthed the word hickeys before her friend elbowed her to shut up. Ji-hye’s blush turned an impossible shade of crimson. She ducked her head, staring intently at the floor, silently cursing every single one of them—especially the captain. Coach Min cleared her throat with a sharp, commanding cough, cutting the teasing mid-laugh. "Enough. Prepare for the practice match." She gave Joon-ho a pointed glance. "You’ll join the coaches in monitoring player conditions." The shift was immediate. The girls scattered into motion—some jogging toward the bench for water bottles, others tightening knee pads or rolling their shoulders. But the buzz in the gym wasn’t just from pre-match adrenaline. It was the lingering, unspoken energy of the exchange, the way a few girls still shot grins at Ji-hye when they thought she wasn’t looking. Somehow, she knew she’d be hearing about this for the rest of the week.