The arena was alive with noise, banners snapping, drums echoing, a thousand cellphones held high. Game five—the decider. Ji-hye strode through the bowels of the home stadium, duffel banging against her hip, a fresh layer of tape on her right knee. Joon-ho was by her side, wearing a slim-fit team polo with a visitor badge clipped to his collar. He wasn't just here for moral support. He was her official "performance coach"—the club had no choice, after everything, but to let him at courtside. LUNE's muscle, a half-apology for nearly ruining her career.
She didn't care about the whispers, the sidelong looks from teammates and rival fans. The only thing that mattered was him at her side, a steady hand at her back as they emerged into the glare and thunder of the court. She paused at the entrance, scanning the stands, then looked at him, the nerves beneath her mask breaking through.
"You ready?" he said, voice pitched low.
