The villa was modern and sleek, tucked behind layers of trimmed trees near the national athlete village—a private getaway for elite-level rest and recovery. Joon-ho parked just outside the gate, and he and Harin stepped out together.
Harin adjusted the strap of her crossbody bag, her floral dress fluttering in the light breeze. "Looks more like a vacation spot than a treatment site," she murmured, eyes scanning the clean lines of the architecture.
"High-class place for high-class problems," Joon-ho muttered, ringing the bell.
The door opened to reveal a sharp-eyed woman in a tracksuit—sturdy build, arms folded, expression weary but warm. "You must be Joon-ho. I'm Coach Min. Madam Seo told me you're a miracle worker."
Behind her, a younger woman lounged stiffly on the couch, one leg up on a pillow, expression guarded and lips pursed in discomfort. She had the aura of someone used to camera flashes and post-match interviews—sleek bobbed hair, delicate face, flawless skin… and eyes that screamed "don't waste my time."
Coach Min gestured them in. "This is Ji-hye."
Ji-hye didn't get up. She barely looked at Joon-ho.
Harin offered a polite bow. "Nice to meet you! I've watched some of your matches—your spike timing is insane."
That drew Ji-hye's eyes toward Harin, and a small smile ghosted her lips. "You watch volleyball?"
"My brother plays semi-pro. I keep up." Harin grinned and dropped her bag onto the side chair like she owned the room. "We actually stopped at the rest stop and talked about your recent games. You carried the team."
Ji-hye's mouth twitched. A mix of pride and frustration. "And now I can't even walk without limping."
Coach Min sighed. "Sorry, Joon-ho. She's just… overwhelmed. Doctors say she needs rest, but the Olympic qualifiers are around the corner."
Ji-hye finally looked at Joon-ho directly, eyes narrowing. "You don't look like a doctor. Or a therapist."
"I'm not." Joon-ho was calm, unbothered by the hostility. "I just help people get better."
"That's vague as hell."
Coach Min tried to cut in, but Harin waved her down. "It's okay, let her talk."
Ji-hye looked at Harin again, surprised at her easy tone.
Joon-ho approached Ji-hye slowly, crouching by her elevated leg. "What hurts?"
Ji-hye hesitated, then rolled her ankle slightly, grimacing. "Outer thigh, near the hip. Shooting pain when I jump. Numb when I land."
"Sounds like gluteus medius overload. Could be nerve impingement if you've been compensating. You push off your left, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then it's stress overload plus fascia tension. I'll need to check mobility and surrounding muscle integrity."
Ji-hye blinked. "You talk like a pro."
He smiled slightly. "I'm just thorough."
She looked at Coach Min, then at Harin—who gave her a reassuring nod—and finally exhaled. "Fine. Let's see what you've got."
Without ceremony, Ji-hye lifted her athletic shirt just enough to expose her lower obliques and turned slightly to show the outer curve of her hip. "This is where it starts. You can press."
Joon-ho reached into his bag for gloves and balm. "I'll start with manual assessment. You might feel pressure."
Ji-hye smirked faintly. "I'm not fragile."
"Good," Joon-ho murmured, already focused.
Harin, meanwhile, settled on the side of the room, pretending to scroll her phone while she watched—curious, intrigued… and maybe a tiny bit territorial.