Ji-hye hissed sharply through her teeth as Joon-ho's thumb pressed deep into the tight knot of muscle along her lower back, just above her right hip.
"Fuck—that hurts!" she gasped, jerking slightly on instinct.
"Stay still," Joon-ho said, calm but firm. "If I don't go in deep, it won't release. This is where the muscle's locking up your movement."
Her hands gripped the edge of the massage table, knuckles whitening. The warm afternoon sun filtered in through the large windows of the villa's private treatment room, casting long shadows over her stretched athletic body. Dressed down to her tight sports bra and a towel over her hips, Ji-hye was the image of tense beauty—tanned, toned, and fuming.
"I've been to three physios," she muttered through clenched teeth. "None of them touched this spot."
Joon-ho's thumbs dug again, working a methodical circle. "That's why you're still hurting. They were treating the symptoms, not the source."
She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowed. "And you think you're special?"
Before he could answer, Harin's voice cut in from the side, soft but confident. "He is."
Ji-hye glanced toward the sofa where Harin sat, her legs curled up as she sipped a cold can of coffee. "You his assistant or his girlfriend?"
Harin smiled. "Both. Kind of."
Ji-hye raised an eyebrow. "So you just... trust him to touch you like this?"
"Touch?" Harin chuckled. "Honey, when he gets serious, that touch changes your whole damn life."
Joon-ho ignored the exchange, his hands firm, focused. Ji-hye's breathing slowed as her muscles, slowly but surely, began to ease.
He glanced up. "You've been compensating with your left side for weeks. Your right glute's tight as hell, and your QL's overworked. That's pulling on your pelvis and jamming your spine. You're not gonna recover in time unless we reset the entire chain."
Ji-hye blinked, caught off guard by the precise breakdown. "You… actually know what you're doing."
"I told you," Harin grinned, tossing her empty can in the bin. "He's the real deal."
Joon-ho leaned over, his voice low beside Ji-hye's ear. "You want to qualify for the Olympics, right?"
She gave a short nod.
"Then grit your teeth. Because I'm just getting started."
And then his thumbs pushed deeper—drawing a choked moan from Ji-hye's lips as her body trembled under his touch. The pain was sharp, hot, but threaded with a strange kind of release.
The real treatment had begun.