YHP 15

It seemed the work-study student managing the reservations had changed, causing a mix-up in the schedule.

The student, who had belatedly learned that Ho-jin’s personal training was scheduled during the time Jeong-in had requested, hurriedly called Jeong-in and apologized several times. But all Jeong-in had wanted to do today was jump into the water once and get out, and he had no intention of getting a refund for the minimal rental fee.

“It’s fine. No, you don’t need to refund me. Yes, it’s really okay.”

The work-study student apologized once more before hanging up. Jeong-in thought Ho-jin would probably receive a similar call soon.

“…Ah, right.”

Thinking of him, Jeong-in’s eyes went to the towel in his hand.

He had brought the towel out with him, but returning it would be like carelessly tossing back a towel that had been thoughtfully provided after using it. On the other hand, if he were to wash it before returning it, he couldn’t remember if there was a washing machine in the new place he had found. Even if it did, it probably wasn’t in any usable condition.

The damp towel felt heavy in his hands. Still, washing it seemed like the right thing to do. He planned to wait until construction of the top floors was completed before buying appliances, but this situation made him think about moving up the timeline.

Jeong-in started mentally sketching out a space for the washer and dryer. There probably wouldn’t be room in his current room, so he might have to use the room at the end of the hallway as a laundry room.

“Excuse me, student.”

Jeong-in instinctively took a step back at the voice that suddenly came out of the darkness.

“Ah… I’m sorry. I must have startled you by speaking suddenly. That’s just how I am.”

The person who had approached Jeong-in looked somewhat apologetic at his reaction and pulled out a business card. The logo of a major daily newspaper was located in the corner of the card.

“I understand it’s Yoo Ho-jin’s personal training time now. Are you perhaps a school friend?”

When Jeong-in didn’t respond, the man quickly added with a friendly smile, as if making an excuse, “It’s not really appropriate to approach someone personally during their training, so I’m waiting until he finishes. Could you perhaps just give me a general impression of how he seemed during practice?”

These journalists never seem to know when to stop.

Jeong-in smirked and asked back, “Ah, but isn’t it also inappropriate to pester an athlete’s acquaintance?”

“Pardon?”

Jeong-in met the man’s flustered gaze and handed back the business card he had just received.

“If you had followed the proper procedures, you wouldn’t be here waiting around like this.”

“If someone as important as a Sungwon Daily reporter has to resort to bothering passersby because they couldn’t get an interview, then it seems safe to assume that Yoo Ho-jin himself doesn’t want to speak with any media outlet, let alone yours.”

Seeing the reporter standing there dumbfounded, it seemed he had no intention of taking back his business card.

“In that case, I don’t see how anyone has the right to talk about what that person is doing.”

Still, Jeong-in decided to maintain a respectful tone since the man seemed older.

“…sir.”

Jeong-in flicked the business card away with his fingers. Before it even hit the ground, Jeong-in had already turned to leave. Unsurprisingly, the speechless reporter didn’t try to stop him.

“Where on earth has he been and what has he been doing to attract such people?”

Perhaps because he had grown up wary of media exposure since childhood, the thought that Yoo Ho-jin might be suffering from reporters left a bad taste in his mouth.

As he walked toward his rundown apartment building, he pondered quietly. He suddenly recalled the incident at the school cafeteria—the relentless stares watching someone eat, seemingly unashamed. He remembered the inconsiderate gazes that fell on Yoo Ho-jin as if looking at a rare object.

At the time, Jeong-in thought it might just be because they were amazed at someone eating so much so quickly. But in hindsight, it wasn’t that. They were truly “observing” the person named Yoo Ho-jin.

Once he returned to his room, Jeong-in tossed a towel carelessly into a corner and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over himself. Then he typed the Alpha’s name into a search engine. Immediately, next to a profile picture of him smiling neatly, a stream of personal information appeared.

At a staggering 192 centimeters tall and 85 kilograms, his remarkable physical stats were followed by a long list of competitions and awards. As Jeong-in’s eyes skimmed over these without much thought, they soon rested on the phrase, “Paris Olympics Men’s Swimming 400m Gold Medal.”

A faint, earthy scent filled his mind.

The smell of dust swirling as he lightly pushed off the ground and ran forward—those days when nothing had been broken yet.

Memories of a time when competing in the Olympics felt like an achievable goal quietly stirred in a corner of his mind.

He thought he no longer had any lingering attachments or anything, but the bitterness in his mouth suggested otherwise.

A wave of tightness filled his chest, and Jeong-in quickly averted his gaze.

To distract himself, he clicked on one of the videos listed beneath the award details. The screen changed, revealing the view of a vast stadium. Voices of commentators murmuring filled the room as Jeong-in raised the volume.

[In Lane 4, we have Yoo Ho-jin. Cheers are already erupting.]

[He’s a player with excellent mental strength.]

[Exactly. Despite winning an Olympic gold medal at such a young age, you never see his focus waver during competitions.]

The camera zoomed in on Ho-jin’s face. He was lightly warming up, his gaze fixed ahead.

He looked entirely different from the person Jeong-in had seen earlier. His eyes were steady, devoid of any smile, his breathing calm and measured. Even amidst the chaotic noise loud enough to reach Jeong-in through the screen, he remained unshaken.

After introducing all the swimmers up to the last lane, the commentators soon began talking about Ho-jin again.

[Since Park Tae-hwan, we’ve rarely seen a swimmer with such good records, so public expectations are understandably high. Considering the pressure, there are some points of concern.]

[That’s right. But given his exceptional focus, as long as he maintains this pace, there shouldn’t be any major issues leading up to the Los Angeles Olympics…]

With the whistle, all the swimmers took their positions on the starting blocks. Then a heavy buzzer sounded.

[Yoo Ho-jin, 400 meters. He’s off.]

[Great entry.]

With a smooth arc, he cleanly cut into the water through the surface.

After sinking beneath the white foam, Ho-jin soon emerged in the lead. Jeong-in watched quietly as Yoo Ho-jin shifted his strokes and advanced relentlessly toward the end of the lane. After reaching the wall, he lightly turned and pushed off the wall to propel himself forward. There was already a significant gap between him and the second place swimmer.

[He’s passed 250 meters. Currently 0.5 seconds slower than his personal best.]

[Lee Youngha from Suwon City is quickly catching up.]

Ho-jin soon completed several laps and now had 150 meters left. Whether because he was the most familiar face or simply the fastest, Jeong-in couldn’t take his eyes off him.

The gap with the second place swimmer widened even more, and Ho-jin, picking up his pace slightly, soon hit the final 50-meter mark.

[In Lane 4, Ho-jin. He’s picking up speed. He passes 350 meters in 3 minutes 18.44 seconds.]

This was where the “real” sprint began.

Just when one might think he’d reached his limit, he defied expectations with an explosive burst of speed. Jeong-in’s jaw dropped at the sight.

Executing each movement with mechanical precision, Ho-jin touched the pad first, finishing the 400 meters with ease.

Cheers and applause erupted, and as droplets of water sparkled like jewels around him, Ho-jin removed his goggles and turned to the scoreboard. His clear, bright eyes shone without a hint of exhaustion.

Jeong-in realized he had been entranced as the video abruptly ended.

The next video auto-played as he let the loading bar roll on. The screen dimmed before transitioning to another clip, once again zooming in on Ho-jin at the start.

[Lane 4, Yoo Ho-jin. He seems slightly off. It seems his condition isn’t quite at its best today.]

It was true. For some reason, Ho-jin’s expression was a bit stiff. Jeong-in skipped the introductions for the other swimmers and dragged the playback bar to go to the start of the race. When the buzzer sounded, Ho-jin dove in without hesitation, cutting through the water with his usual grace. Jeong-in muttered as he quietly watched him glide through the water smoothly, “Huh?”

Just as it seemed his speed might be slowing slightly, Ho-jin suddenly vanished beneath the water.

[Oh, wait. There seems to be a problem.]

[The race is being paused.]

The commentators and spectators, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, began to murmur. Ho-jin was still submerged in the water.

A sharp whistle sounded, halting the swimmers, and a lifeguard on the sidelines leapt into action. Athletes from neighboring lanes rushed over to help pull Ho-jin to the surface. It took a while before his limp, unconscious body was finally lifted from the water.

[It looks like a blackout. What could have caused this?]

[Ah, it seems they’re administering first aid immediately.]

Thanks to the relentless camera focusing on him, the image of Ho-jin vomiting water several times with a pale face was captured on screen without filter. The footage cut off there. Frozen in shock, Jeong-in stared at the blank screen before scrolling down to read the title.

[Uncut Highlights 0517 Jeongha Swimming Competition] – Live broadcast footage of Yoo Ho-jin’s labrum tear incident

It was an uncomfortably blunt title.