Hard Work Never Betrays You
The car rolled toward the gym. I sat still and quiet, eyes fixed on the world sliding past the window.
"You really like looking around, huh?" Choi Yeram asked from the seat beside me.
I didn't take my eyes off the glass.
"Not really. I just get carsick."
"Wait, for real?"
"Yeah."
Even on short rides, if I didn't watch the passing scenery, the nausea would creep in. The weird part was that it was the same 3D motion sickness that made my head spin whenever I played first-person games.
Whether she was being considerate or just taking the hint, Choi Yeram didn't press the conversation. Thanks to that, I rode the rest of the way in peace, and we arrived at the gym.
"We're here."
I stepped out and looked up at the building that housed the gym. It sat tucked away in a back street, a little rundown, the kind of place that looked like it never saw a crowd. From the outside, it was exactly my kind of place.
I stood there staring, and Choi Yeram gave an awkward little laugh.
"It's a little dated, huh? Crowded gyms are a nightmare to film in."
"I like it, actually."
"Wait, for real?"
"The place I go looks a lot like this."
What was the upside of a packed gym, anyway? All it meant was fewer machines I could actually use. Sure, more members usually meant better equipment, but I wasn't the type to get evangelical about it. As long as I could train, I didn't care. Compared to the gear in the army, this was state of the art.
Inside, the machines were in good shape. Whoever ran the place took care of them — no rust, nothing stiff or grinding.
I was still inspecting the equipment with my gym bag slung over my shoulder when Choi Yeram came over with another woman in tow.
"Beomjun! Come say hi. This is the gym director."
Early thirties, give or take. Navy leggings, a neon windbreaker that somehow worked with the rest of it, and a black bob. She was just standing there, and yet that distinctive aura only serious lifters give off rolled off her in waves.
"Hello. I'm Park Beomjun."
"Choi Heejeong. Nice to meet you."
She held out a hand, so I took it.
"Oh."
Calluses. The sensation in her palm made me look up. Our eyes met, and we smiled at the same time.
"You train, don't you?"
"Yes. Every weekday."
"Mind if I feel?"
"Sorry? Feel what, exactly…?"
"Your back. I'm curious."
Ah. My back. I nearly jumped. She'd just said she wanted to touch me, no subject, no warning — for a second I'd almost taken it the wrong way.
"Sure. My back's fine."
I turned and offered it to her, bracing the muscles in anticipation of her hand. A muffled laugh came from behind me.
"Pfft. Not like that. I want to hug you and feel it properly."
"Ah…. A hug."
It clicked a beat late, what Choi Heejeong actually wanted. The helchang greeting. You threw your arms around each other like you were just being friendly, and in the process you took the other person's helchang credentials for a test drive. It wasn't about asserting dominance. It was a greeting born of the pure, simple desire to check the quality of someone else's muscle.
I'd done it a few times. Always with guys. Never with a woman.
I hesitated, then opened my arms in a stiff, awkward spread. She wrapped me up without a shred of ceremony.
Squish.
"Wha—!"
A tremendous sensation bloomed against my solar plexus, and I stumbled backward before I could stop myself. Mistaking it for a trip, Choi Heejeong tightened her arms and crushed me closer — which only made that springy something all the more unmistakable. The woman had some serious artillery tucked under that windbreaker.
"Careful. You're going to fall."
"Ah— uh, yes. Yes. I apologize."
"Don't be sorry."
The second she confirmed I wasn't going over, her hands started roaming. Lats, rear delts — and she didn't stop at the back. Side delts, triceps. She'd basically mapped my entire upper body except the chest, then let out a low whistle.
"Oh. Wow. That's lethal. Are you kidding me?"
A woman was feeling me up, and yet the touch was weirdly familiar. It was exactly like getting assessed by some helchang older brother. I should have felt strange about it. I didn't. If anything, she was starting to register as a he.
So I returned the greeting. Naturally. I set my hands on the back hidden under her windbreaker.
"Whoa."
The awe came out on its own. She was solid. Nothing like the soft, round look she shared with Choi Yeram — her body was hard. Not springy. Hard. Like running your palms over a concrete wall.
"Whoa. That's insane."
"Oh, you're no joke yourself."
The greeting went on for a while before Choi Yeram finally cut it off.
"Um. What are you two doing?"
"Man. This body — whoa. This is no joke. I've never seen a guy built like this."
She was still groping my back as she said it. Choi Yeram physically pulled us apart.
"A-Auntie. Can you two maybe unglue yourselves now."
Auntie? No wonder they looked alike. The eyes, the nose — carbon copies.
Choi Heejeong stepped back with obvious reluctance.
"You've been training like a maniac, haven't you. The feel of it — whoa."
"Thank you. You were incredible yourself, Director."
Something welled up in my chest. It was the first time anyone had looked at my body and praised it like that. The guys who didn't even train would take one look and laugh — that's two years of work? The helchang types were worse: you've still got a long way to go, and then they'd flex their own muscle for the rest of the afternoon.
Choi Heejeong was paying my muscle actual respect. I trained for my health, sure — but hearing that, I couldn't help feeling proud. Proof that everything I'd put in hadn't been wasted. My chest went tight all on its own.
"Ahem. You two can save the shop talk. Let's work out. Workout!"
Choi Yeram cut in right at the peak of the moment. Being left out of the conversation had apparently given her a case of FOMO.
"Shall we? Yeram's with me. What about you, Beomjun? Together, or on your own?"
Training together was always better. You could check each other's form, spot, get fired up watching the other person work. The problem was I had a routine. Today was the day I destroyed chest and abs. I was precious about my split — if the body parts didn't match, I trained alone.
"What are we hitting today?"
"Yeram barely shows up, so when she does come in, we do a full-body session."
"Ah……."
I could've sworn she'd told me she came here all the time. I glanced over. Choi Yeram was busy looking anywhere but at me, scratching her chin. She didn't deny it, which meant it had been a lie. At least she had enough conscience not to argue that she came in plenty.
"I'll train with you."
"Huh? For real? I figured you'd go solo. Don't you have a set routine?"
"I do, but we came together. We should train together."
"Ohh. Loyalty."
Choi Heejeong flashed a wide grin and pointed down the hall.
"Locker room's that way. Dump your bag, get changed, and come on out."
"Yes. Ah, um… please feel free to speak casually."
"Sure. Got it."
That was fast. She dropped the formality like she'd been waiting for permission. I left her behind and headed for the locker room.
I stowed my bag and came back out to find Choi Yeram waiting for me.
"Oh, you're out?"
"Yeah. You were waiting?"
"I hit the bathroom anyway, so I figured we'd walk over together."
"Yeah? Let's go."
I started walking, and she fell in beside me. Me, training with a woman. In this world I'd been stared at every time I worked out, but I'd never actually trained with anyone.
The day the staff handed me a one-year membership, a text had come in.
After that, I couldn't even get a spot. I just trained alone, quietly. Back in my original world I'd spotted other members now and then. I could have asked for help first, sure. But starting a conversation with a woman was an extremely difficult thing.
I was walking with my heart tapping a little faster from the anticipation when Choi Yeram spoke up.
"I couldn't come because I was busy."
"Huh?"
"I was busy, that's why I haven't been making it to the gym……."
The excuse arrived fashionably late. I hadn't even been dwelling on it. Thinking back, she'd never said she came often — just that she went. In my book, "I go to the gym" meant at least five days a week. I'd assumed Choi Yeram operated on the same definition. Hearing she barely showed up had given me a tiny flicker of betrayal, and then I'd realized that was my own projection and let it go.
Choi Yeram, apparently, had not let it go.
I answered like it was nothing.
"If you're busy, you can't make it in as much. That's how it is."
"Right?"
"If it were me, I'd have cut sleep to get here."
"Kh—"
If I don't train, my body's too wired to drop into a deep sleep. Better to wreck myself even if it means going to bed late. That's how you actually rest.
"B-Beomjun, you're actually pretty funny……."
I wasn't joking. But she was wearing that awkward little smile, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her I meant it. She looked like she'd cry if I poked her.
"Okay! Ready to start?"
The second we stepped into the weight room, Choi Heejeong's voice rang out bright and loud, and the session was on.
We started with stretching, then moved into a curriculum of compound bodyweight work that hit a bunch of muscle groups at once. It wasn't that hard — just enough to feel the stimulus. The person next to me, however, did not seem to agree.
"Urgh— hah… hhhnnngh! Ghhk…!"
She sounded like she was dying. We'd been at it for thirty minutes and Choi Yeram was already flat on the floor, sucking air like a drowning woman.
A camera pushed in on her sweat-soaked face.
"Nellka."
"Hah— hah…"
"Nellka."
"Don't— hah… talk to me. Hah."
"Beomjun's perfectly fine. So why are you dying over there? You're faking it, right?"
Choi Yeram managed a wheezing comeback to the teasing.
"I'm actually dying. For real. Hah… he's the weird one."
What is she even talking about. She's the one who's out of shape. I wanted to flick her in the forehead.
The camera swung over to me.
"She says you're the weird one. Thoughts?"
"Nellka's stamina is garbage. Don't go around telling people you served active duty. I'm embarrassed for both of us."
I meant every word.