Chapter 145
"You like the cute type more...?"
"I'm jealous... She even gets on TV."
"......"
Park Harin, looking deep in thought as she watched us grinning shamelessly, said nothing. After a moment, as if steeling herself, she started bouncing the ball next to her again without a word.
The instructor, who had been helping those struggling—probably because it was a sports elective—stopped by our court for a bit.
"...You're all so good here that I don't think you'll find anything tough for a while."
Without the mic in hand, she slipped back into her shy demeanor from earlier. She gave a quiet "Fighting!" and hurried off to help others.
"...The instructor's kinda cute, huh."
"Yeah. You wouldn't guess she's national team material just looking at her."
It felt half like changing the subject, but everyone seemed to agree. I nodded without thinking too. She had that small-animal vibe, separate from her tall frame and well-built muscles as an athlete.
But right then, a tennis ball slammed into my side.
"Oops, sorry. My bad..."
Turning left where it came from, I saw Yoo Seol-ah with a face that didn't look sorry at all.
...Anyone could tell that wasn't an accident. She was bouncing it straight up—how does it veer sideways like that?
"...How does someone with your athleticism mess up?"
"I'm human too, y'know? Even I slip up sometimes. Be a big boy and let it slide."
We both smiled with fake laughs, tossing in compliments, but our eyes locked with sparks flying like live wires.
Why the sudden jealousy? Over nodding when I called the instructor cute? She's probably in her twenties, sure, but there's an age gap, and it wasn't like that anyway. Hell, Seol-ah agreed.
"Hey, Baek Sion, don't agree to stuff like that in front of Seol-ah. She gets jealous."
I was half-doubting it, but Seol-ah's reaction confirmed it right away.
"...J-jealous? It was really an accident! The instructor is cute, okay?!"
Her voice pitched up obviously. Honestly, our little kid fights are daily life, so I wondered if it was nothing, but that reaction sealed it.
Even Park Harin jumped in.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up without thinking about Seol-ah..."
"No, really, it's not...!"
She denied it fiercely, but as they say, extreme denial is near admission.
Lee Seo-yeon piled on.
"Seriously, don't do that around Seol-ah. If you're ever singing happy birthday to a girl, skip the 'darling' part for sure. Got it, Baek Sion?"
Back in elementary school birthdays, lots of boys skipped that line out of embarrassment. Now here I was, an adult facing the same.
I could totally picture getting elbowed if I sang the full lyrics next to Seol-ah. Seo-yeon's vivid warning made Seol-ah's face flush beet red; she said nothing, just pounded the ball furiously.
Park Harin, glad to be off the hook, chuckled.
"Whoa, Seol-ah, looks like the racket's finally fitting your hand."
Seol-ah trembled but couldn't retort—it hit too close to home. Adorably so.
"You all seem to be getting the hang of it, so let's learn the basics of tennis: the forehand stroke."
Same with other racket sports. Badminton, table tennis—they all start with forehand. It's the easiest yet most crucial part.
"If you're new to rackets, you might not know, but hitting with the palm facing forward is called forehand."
The instructor stepped onto the court for a demo. She tossed the ball, let it bounce once, then sent it cleanly across with a crisp swing.
"Bet you think, 'I could do that.'"
Laughter rippled— it did look easy. Smiling, she continued.
"But this simple forehand stroke is the most important in tennis. Master it without flair, even if everything else is beginner-level, and you could win casual tournaments."
She bounced and swung again, but this time the ball's speed was on another level.
"You might think, 'Won't weak backhands keep you out of matches?' But if your forehand is overpoweringly strong, opponents can't even target it."
The initial speed was wild, and after bouncing, spin accelerated it to unhittable levels.
Soon, she dove into the detailed mechanics. Fitting for the key technique, the explanation dragged on. Seol-ah listened intently, her competitive fire lit.
"Like a table tennis drive?"
"Pretty similar."
After covering stance, takeback, follow-through, and more, she called for volunteers.
"Anyone think they get it? Or just wanna try? Come on up!"
Korea University has that studious rep over other top schools—and it's true. Sports fans are fewer here. No takers. We all glanced sideways in sync.
"...Why're you looking at me like that..."
"Show your real skills just once? You've been holding back."
"......"
"Please, just once for real..."
Seo-yeon's pleading tone. Harin wasn't the attention-seeker type, but our sparkling eyes plus the instructor's hopeful ones won out. She quietly raised her hand.
"Yes! There we go. Everyone, clap!"
Amid applause, Harin took the mic, chatted, nodded, and introduced herself.
"...Park Harin, PE major, class of '23."
Short and to the point, like her personality. She walked to the baseline. The instructor lobbed an easy one, and Harin's bored expression vanished.
Her right arm flowed back smoothly. Wrist snap. The racket, channeling full body power, whistled through air and smashed the ball.
No wasted motion. The instructor dropped her racket mid-return, stunned. Ignoring the shocked crowd, I whispered to the two.
"What if Park Harin had come to Astasia?"
"...Six months, and she'd have taken down Magnus."
"Our party might not have even formed. She'd solo harder than all four of us."
We'd never know for sure, but we all thought the same.
After forehand basics, we scattered to courts for practice. Naturally, I stuck with Baek Sion.
The instructor called it couple-friendly, and yeah—working out with him alone gets me hyped. Tennis itself is fun too. Lots like table tennis, so we rallied quick.
I caught him slowing shots for me sometimes. Grateful, but it fired me up to catch up fast.
On the next court, Park Harin led—who even knows her true level?—and those two improved visibly fast.
Someday, doubles match. Vs. Sion's fun, but teammates? High-fives on points... natural skinship. Win and hug in the mood...
"Time to switch!"
Courts are limited, so we rotate with others. Sion and I sat on the bench by the court. Still cool, but after running, shade's best.
"So, what's Park Harin's exact skill level?"
"Dunno precisely. But as a kid, every girls' youth sport scouted her."
Not soccer or basketball, but tennis, volleyball, table tennis—tons. Programs said she dominated individuals.
"...Why no pro?"
I'd asked her myself, so Sion's curiosity was fair. Simple answer.
"Too much hassle. PE teacher means early outs and long breaks."
What can ya do? Her happiness trumps Korea sports glory. I cheered her dream. Sion eyeing school nurse? Same vibe.
"Teachers get breaks—that's the real perk..."
Then it—a green blur straight at my face. Fast; I shut my eyes on reflex.
Thwack against skin, but no pain. Can't feel pain there anyway.
Post-Sion's big injury, I invested heavy in defense over offense. Basic barrier auto-triggers on attacks—tennis ball? No chance. Didn't even activate.
Puzzled, I peeked. Sion hovered, catching the ball inches from my face.
"You okay?"
"...Y-yeah. Thanks..."
Wait, am I okay? Ball startled me, but his worried voice? Heart racing wild.
...Total foul. Constant care builds tolerance, but he pulls this when I relax—heart explodes every time...
Face heating, but luckily he stood and headed to court.
"Sorry! Racket slipped... You okay? Really sorry!"
Our court-mates felt newbie-ish. Over-swinging rookies cause this.
Sion chatted, returned the ball. I deep-breathed my thumping heart calm.
He always blocks for me like this. Not dangerous now, but flashbacks surged emotions.
Sion back quick.
"Thanks—nearly triggered my magic."
"That impact null? Risky."
He smirked. No reaction to a face-hit would've freaked them more—or pitied us.
Back to playful Sion. I kept my usual tone.
"...J-just curious, but... do you prefer cute types?"
...Stuttered. Earlier instructor bit—I knew he didn't mean it that way, but felt bad for snapping. If that's his thing, I'll try quieter.
Quick reply, no hesitation.
"Yeah, I do."
...Knew it. Brutally honest Sion—I half-expected. Slight sadness budding—
"That's why I proposed."
"...Uh, ah."
No subject needed. Heat surged faster than before; I ducked my head, thumping his thigh.
...On purpose?!
Till class ended, my burning face never cooled.