"What's going on there?" the catcher asked when he noticed Dranred inside the batting cage, still practicing. Every pitch from the machine was sent flying. At first, they thought it was just a simple batting session — but two hours had passed, and Dranred still hadn't stopped.
Some of the players paused what they were doing and turned their eyes toward him just as their catcher arrived.
"Nathan, you're here," one of them said. "Talk to him, will you? He's been at it for hours. He might hurt himself. Our preliminary match is next week."
Nathan glanced toward Dranred and simply said, "Leave him be," before walking toward the locker room.
"Look at that," someone muttered. "What kind of battery can they form if that's how they treat each other?"
The others just shook their heads and turned back to the young man in the cage. Dranred kept swinging, as if pouring every ounce of frustration into each hit. Every crack of the bat carried his emotions — anger, pain, something unspoken.
If the ball had been a person, they thought, it would've cried by now. None of them knew what Dranred was going through, but it was clear he was carrying something heavy deep inside.
"Rosette?!" Dranred blurted out, startled, when he saw her step onto the baseball field — with Peter beside her. The team was in the middle of practice when the two arrived. The moment Dranred spotted her, he stopped swinging. His teammates, noticing his sudden pause, also turned to look. Visitors were rare here; baseball wasn't exactly the most popular sport in the country.
"Who's that?" Nathan asked one of the guys, eyes following Dranred as he walked toward the newcomers. Something about the girl's face looked familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. He found himself staring.
"What are you doing here?" Dranred asked. He hadn't expected Rosette to come — especially not with Peter. His eyes flicked between them, searching for answers.
"We met at a charity event," Rosette said quickly when she noticed his questioning look. It had been a long time since they last saw each other — not since Estelle's wedding. She had purposely kept her distance to think things through. What happened at the reception still haunted her. She couldn't understand why she had reacted that way — breathless, shaken, her heart pounding as she saw him in pain because of her brother.
She had realized something since then — that no matter what she told herself, her heart had always belonged to one person. That was why she never stopped believing in Dranred, even when James and Estelle blamed him as much as their grandfather.
Still, seeing Peter again earlier at the charity house changed something. He told her Dranred hadn't been doing well — that one day, he stayed inside the batting cage for hours, swinging nonstop like a machine that refused to stop. They were all starting to worry.
Dranred glanced at Rosette. The memory of the reception flickered in his mind — her expression, the pain, and the silence that followed. He wondered what she was thinking now. Was she still angry at him?
In the past few days, she'd been avoiding him. Even when he visited the charity house, she always seemed busy, as if fate itself was keeping them apart. Sometimes, all he could do was sit quietly at the back and listen to her during music therapy sessions. It was enough just to hear her play.
He had been a mess after the reception — especially when he saw what Estelle was wearing. That ring, hanging from her necklace, made him think there was still hope between them. For a moment, he even thought of chasing after her honeymoon. But reason won. She was married now. He had to respect that.
Since then, while Rosette kept her distance, he'd finally faced the truth. He could no longer stay trapped in the past. The only thing that mattered now was the game ahead.
"The kids liked your gifts," Rosette said, breaking his thoughts. Peter had delivered the new instruments he'd sent for the foundation.
"You came here just to tell me that?" he asked. He'd been expecting… something else.
Inside, though, he was simply glad to see her again.
"Yes," she said softly. "And to see you."
"That's a first," he replied with a faint smile.
"Well, honestly, I've been avoiding you these past few days. But I realized my reason for doing so was too shallow."
"You're the only person I know who admits that to the one they've been avoiding," he teased.
"And you're the only person I know who smiles at the one avoiding him. Do I look like a clown to you, smiling at me like that?"
"You might be the cutest clown I've ever seen," he said, grinning as he gently pinched her nose.
"Clown or not, don't touch my nose!" she huffed, swatting his hand away — and he laughed. How he'd missed this — her expression, her voice, the warmth of this easy, familiar teasing.
A soft cough interrupted them. They turned and saw Nathan and a few of Dranred's teammates watching nearby.
"That's what happens when a former basketball star joins the team — even fans start showing up," Nathan said with a grin, his gaze flicking toward Rosette.
Dranred caught the look. For reasons he couldn't explain, a surge of irritation rose in him.
"This is the first time someone's ever come here," one of the players added. "Are you here to watch practice?"
"If that's okay," Rosette replied, her eyes briefly meeting Dranred's. He smiled at her — a soft, reassuring smile.
"Come on, Mr. Ace," another teammate teased. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your guest?"
Dranred forced a polite smile, but inside, he felt a strange, possessive urge — as if he wanted to tuck Rosette away somewhere no one else could see her. That feeling again — the need to keep her to himself.
He glanced at her once more. He knew how uneasy she could get around strangers, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable. His teammates, however, noticed the way he looked at her and couldn't resist teasing.
"Man, you're way too protective," one of them laughed. "We're not going to steal her from you."
"That's not it," Dranred and Rosette said at the same time. Everyone froze and looked at them, surprised, as the two exchanged awkward glances.
"Of course I'm protective," Dranred said quickly, forcing a light tone. "She's my number one fan. She's like a sister to me."
There it is again, Rosette thought. That phrase.
"She's like a sister to me." Somehow, that stung more than her fear of being around people. She reminded herself of what her psychologist had said — she needed to keep trying, to mingle, to let herself exist in spaces that made her uncomfortable.
Dranred started introducing everyone on the team, ending with their catcher.
"This is Nathan — our catcher," he said.
"Nathan," the man greeted, extending his hand.