Vacation
"Is this guy actually insane?"
The second Kim Gyeongmo saw Kim Yeongseon's interview, he exploded.
"There's stuff you say in interviews and stuff you don't! What the hell is he trying to pull?"
"……"
He'd only been my senior for less than a month, and he was usually the quiet, unflappable type. I'd never seen him this worked up.
"Hoo…… hoo……."
Kim Gyeongmo dragged in deep breaths one after another, fighting to get his temper under control. Even the air he pulled in still had an edge to it.
I kept my head down, unable to get a single word out. Rage and fear tangled together until my fingertips wouldn't stop trembling.
"First things first, Doyoon. Any word from the club yet?"
At that, I carefully pulled out my phone. The second I unlocked it, the article I'd been staring at earlier jumped back onto the screen, and my hand flinched on its own.
"No…… nothing yet."
"……Tsk."
Kim Gyeongmo thought for a second, then immediately grabbed his own phone.
"I'll call the manager."
— Ring… ring….
The line rang twice before the manager picked up.
"Manager, it's Kim Gyeongmo."
Gyeongmo hyung glanced my way for a moment, then laid out the situation in a calm but solid tone.
"Yes, we're in the room right now…… Doyoon's not in great shape…… Yes. Yes. Understood."
— Click.
Gyeongmo hyung slowly lowered the phone, took a second to steady his breathing, then called my name.
"Doyoon."
I lifted my head and looked at him.
"The manager's going to talk to the club, so you just rest for a bit. Calm down first."
"……Okay."
I lay down on the bed just like that and pulled the blanket over myself. Once I was buried in the soft covers, the fear that had been clawing at me started to ease, just a little.
— Knock knock.
A short while later, the manager walked into the room.
"So, how are you holding up, Doyoon?"
He checked on me the second he came in. I straightened the blanket, sat up slowly, and answered.
"I'm a little better now."
My breathing wasn't as ragged as before, and the shaking in my hands had mostly settled.
The manager gave a single nod and sat down in the chair.
"Good to hear."
Then he went straight to the point.
"I already called the club. They're preparing an official response, so you don't need to worry yourself sick over this."
He laced his fingers together and kept going.
"They put another request in with the hospital, too. Diagnosis, MRI, the full medical basis—everything's getting organized and sent over to the club."
I let out a breath of pure relief. Seeing my face, the manager continued.
"And…… Doyoon, stop by the stadium today just long enough for the doping test, then go straight on leave."
"…Leave?"
I tilted my head at the unexpected order.
"That's right. Rest comes first right now."
His tone left no room for argument.
"Even if you show up at the park, all you'll get is swarmed by reporters. Nothing good comes of it. You're not pitching anyway."
He uncrossed his arms and sat up a little straighter.
"Your family home's nearby, right? Finish the Wales road trip and report back Monday. By then the club's official statement will be out, and things will look a lot better than they do right now."
"……Yes, sir. Understood."
The manager stood, gave my shoulder a light pat, and said,
"Don't worry too much. This'll quiet down soon enough."
I stopped by the stadium just long enough for the doping test, then climbed into my parents' car and headed straight home.
The scenery outside the window blurred past, but my head was still fogged over. Everything that had piled up since morning came crashing in at once, leaving my feelings floating around with nowhere solid to land.
"Doyoon, you okay?"
From the driver's seat, Dad asked gently. He was usually so gruff that hearing that tone from him felt almost more awkward than anything else.
"Yeah. Just…… a little tired."
It had been a long time since I'd ridden in my parents' car. The inside was warm and quiet. Only the hum of the engine and the sound of tires on the road filled the space like background noise.
When we got close to home, Dad spoke up again.
"Doyoon, once we're inside, anything you want to eat? Your mom said she'll make whatever you want."
I hesitated a second, then opened my mouth.
"Um…… kimchi-jjim?"
A chunk of well-stewed kimchi-jjim over white rice, soft pork neck, a little of the hot broth spooned over the top—that taste.
It was the dish Mom always made whenever I looked worn out or off my food. Somehow, eating it always brought my appetite back like magic, and my energy right along with it.
From the back seat, Mom finally spoke.
"Of course. Nobody makes kimchi-jjim like your mom. About time I cooked some for my boy again."
She smiled warmly as she said it. The warmth in her voice came through clear as day.
I gave a small nod.
"……Yeah."
The car turned into the alley, and the shabby villa building came into view. I'd walked this street for years, but today it looked especially comforting.
The closer we got to home, the more I felt the anxiety that had been stuck to my chest all day start to loosen. Nobody had given me some grand pep talk. Just the simple fact of going home was enough to ease my heart little by little.
One warm bowl of rice. A family that would greet me like nothing was wrong.
Right now, those two things were all I needed.
Mom's kimchi-jjim tasted exactly the same as always. The moment the hot broth spread through my mouth, the injustice, the anger, and the fear that had been crushing my chest began to wash away, slow and steady.
"Doyoon."
While I was lost in the sharp, comforting flavors, Mom called my name gently.
"Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry so much. Mom believes in her son."
The look in her eyes as she said it felt like it could blanket every worry and fear in the world at once. That warmth melted straight through my chest.
Beside us, Dad—who had been eating in silence—added a line of his own.
"Doyoon, you hold your head high. An innocent man doesn't walk around with his chin on his chest."
Then he stood, came around behind me, and used both hands to push my hunched shoulders back open. He gave my back one solid thump for good measure.
"Don't shrink yourself for no reason. You've got nothing to shrink over."
Mom nodded and followed softly.
"That's right. Be strong."
Dad picked up a chunk of well-cooked pork neck with his chopsticks and pushed it toward me.
"Eat. Get some strength back."
"……Okay."
I forced down the sob that was about to burst out and bit into the pork Dad had given me. Hot juices flooded my mouth, and somehow that only made the lump in my throat worse.
I hadn't done anything wrong.
Not a single thing.
There was no reason in the world for me to hang my head and curl up like this.
Yeah. Just like Dad said…… hold my head high.
I drew in one deep breath. Something that had been jammed tight inside my chest began to loosen, slowly, very slowly.
When I'd cleaned my plate and downed a glass of water, Dad suddenly shot up from his seat.
"Doyoon."
I looked up.
"Go take out the recycling."
My eyes blinked wide at the unexpected order.
"Right now?"
"Right now. Times like this, sitting still just makes you sink lower. Get some air for a minute. Won't take long."
Mom nodded gently as well.
"You'll feel better once you're back. There's barely anything. Just run it out and come home."
She held out a full trash bag and the recycling bin.
I jammed a hat on my head and slipped into my slippers. I thought about putting on a mask for a second, then decided against it. I wasn't famous enough for that. Sure, the articles were everywhere, but stepping outside this little villa for two minutes didn't call for that kind of drama.
"I'll be right back."
I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The air was noticeably colder than inside. Holding the bag, I stopped for a moment and breathed in.
While the cold air brushed my face, the tangled thoughts in my head started to sort themselves out.
What's going to happen from here……
The club was preparing an official response, and the hospital records were all going public. Once the doping test results came in on top of that, my innocence would be two hundred percent locked down.
That part didn't worry me. Looking at the evidence alone, there wasn't a single thing that worked against me.
The problem was what came after.
……Will people actually accept it?
Years of watching the communities had taught me one thing. People believe their feelings first, facts second. And when those feelings crash into the facts, sometimes they just throw the facts away.
Even after it comes out that it wasn't doping, there are definitely going to be people who dig their heels in.
People who'd already dumped every insult they could think of weren't suddenly going to turn around and say, "Guess I was wrong."
It wasn't that they didn't know.
They just didn't want to admit it.
Those kinds of people wouldn't change their conclusion no matter how clear the proof you shoved in their faces.
Han Doyoon did not dope.
Instead of accepting that simple, boring truth, they would cling to lines like,
"That has to be fabricated."
"The evidence isn't enough."
"How does velocity jump like that under normal circumstances?"
—anything to protect their own pride.
I let out a long sigh.
Haa…… this is going to be such a pain.
Most people would take the truth, sure. But the handful who refused to let go would keep chewing on it no matter what.
God…… if Kim Yeongseon had just kept his mouth shut in that interview.
In the end, Kim Yeongseon was the root of the whole problem.
That bastard I didn't even want to call "senior."
Even back when I was with the Wales, he'd put me through every kind of hell.
The first thing that always came to mind was the talent-show incident.
It was only a few days after I'd joined. The rookies were all sitting in the dorm meeting room when Kim Yeongseon singled me out by name and told me to come up front.
"Gotta do the initiation. Show us a talent."
At first I thought he was joking. A few of the guys were snickering, so I gave an awkward little laugh and hesitated.
Then Kim Yeongseon's face went hard.
"Hey, you little shits. You think a senior's words are a joke?!"
And before he'd even finished speaking, he threw the plastic bottle he'd been drinking from straight at me.
Things like that kept happening after.
What Kim Yeongseon did went way past the usual "errands" or "favors" seniors asked of juniors.
If my expression so much as looked wrong for a second, he found something to pick at. If a pretty fan showed up, he'd force me to go get her number. Even on the way to the showers after practice, he'd find some reason to criticize me for nothing.
The second those memories surfaced, heat surged up from deep in my gut.
"Goddamn it, Kim Yeongseon, you son of a bitch!"
I was in the middle of sorting the recycling when the shout tore out of me before I could stop it.
That exact moment—
"Kyaa?!"
—Crash!
A woman's voice and the sound of something heavy colliding came from behind me. I spun around on pure reflex.
A woman was sprawled on the ground near the entrance to the recycling area. Next to her lay an overturned cardboard box and recycling scattered all over the floor.
Apparently my sudden yell had startled her into falling.
I rushed over in a panic.
"A-are you okay? I just yelled out of nowhere……!"
The woman flinched and tried to push herself up. Her long hair almost completely hid her face.
"Ah, no…… I'm fine."
Then she brushed the hair out of her face and slowly lifted her head.
Our eyes met.
"……Huh? Han Doyoon……?"