WOPE Ch 15
by soapaThe moment he drove into the underground parking lot of the apartment, his heart started pounding. He didn’t know why the path to meet someone he liked always felt so thrilling every single time. Riding the elevator, Hooyoung glanced down at his ankle for no reason. The large ice pack strapped to one ankle was bothering him.
It seemed like it had almost gone down. He should have taken it off in the car.
The trainer hyung had clearly told him not to remove it right away, and usually, Hooyoung kept the ice on until the cold sensation faded, but when it came to Junwook, clear thinking became difficult. The ankle with the ice pack somehow looked unattractive. Lost in all sorts of thoughts, the elevator’s arrival chime sounded. Hooyoung quickly lifted his head, took a deep breath, and calmed his nervous heart. Soon, it would be his favorite time.
“You’re here?”
Hooyoung broke into a bright smile and ran forward. Junwook, as usual, opened the door and came out to greet him.
“You’ll strain your ankle. Don’t run.”
He said not to run, but Hooyoung ran every time. As Hooyoung dove into his arms, Junwook caught him steadily, as always.
“Country puppy mode, meeting its owner.”
Really. He wouldn’t deny it, but calling it country? Hooyoung mumbled, picturing scruffy dogs roaming around rural areas.
“…Not country.”
“Puppies are cuter in the countryside, you know? And it’s cold outside, so your face is all red. Your hair’s sticking out everywhere from showering.”
Hooyoung checked his reflection in the full-length mirror by the entrance. As Junwook said, his face was red, and his hair was a mess. It did look a bit like a country dog. Trying to at least fix his hair, he hurriedly ran his hands through it, but Junwook came up beside him, hugged him tightly, and nibbled his ear. He also planted a few quick kisses—smack, smack—around the area.
“Ugh, so cute.”
Hmm, wasn’t this less like kissing and more like being eaten? Hooyoung vividly felt Junwook’s teeth grazing his cheeks, ears, and neck as he took off his shoes. He’d gotten used to it, so it didn’t hurt much anymore.
“Give me your bag.”
“No, it’s heavy. I’ll carry it.”
Hooyoung quickly stepped back and took off his bag. It wasn’t that Junwook never took his bag or carried it for him, but he suddenly felt apologetic, as if he was making Junwook do menial tasks.
“Hmm.”
When Junwook looked at him with a curious expression, Hooyoung just widened his eyes, silently asking what was wrong.
“It’s nothing. Is your ankle okay?”
“It’s totally fine. No problem running, and the coach said he’d manage my playing time for the playoffs after we win the regular season.”
“Hmm…?”
Junwook narrowed his eyes and looked down at Hooyoung.
“What?”
“Nothing, for now. Sit. I’ll get something to drink.”
“I’ll get it!”
As Hooyoung tried to rush off, Junwook quickly grabbed the hood of his hoodie with one hand. Hooyoung, forced to stop, screeched to a halt like a car hitting the brakes.
“I’ll bring it, so just sit, okay?”
“I can do it.”
“Ugh, I want to do it, so please sit down.”
Junwook, still holding the hood, turned Hooyoung around and made him sit on the sofa.
“…I want to do it.”
Hooyoung mumbled softly, watching Junwook head to the kitchen. That’s just how it was. The more time passed, the more he wanted to do everything for Junwook. Since he couldn’t offer anything material, he wanted to do even the smallest, most trivial things. He hoped Junwook wasn’t in a bad mood and that he felt no discomfort while they were together.
Junwook returned with a mug of tea and placed it in front of Hooyoung. It wasn’t wild ginseng tea. The wild ginseng tea Junwook gave him monthly had become a solid part of his morning routine.
“What’s this?”
“No idea. It was a gift from China, but it’s supposed to be really good stuff. I stole it from my big hyung’s house.”
The word “stole” made Hooyoung start to laugh but then pause.
“…The chairman wouldn’t even think someone else is drinking his wild ginseng tea or this, right?”
“There’s no way he’d know, so why worry? Don’t think about it and drink. Besides, my big hyung would be more upset about brewing it carelessly in a mug like this than who drank it.”
Oh, right. Fine teas are supposed to be brewed in special teaware with precise timing and sipped slowly, so that made sense. Hooyoung blew on the tea and took a sip. It was hot, but the subtle fragrance was pleasant.
“How is it?”
“Hmm… it tastes healthy.”
Junwook laughed as if he’d expected that.
“With Lee Hooyoung, food either tastes healthy or not.”
“…I can tell sweet from bitter too.”
“Then the wild ginseng tea?”
“…Healthy taste.”
Hooyoung leaned against Junwook’s body and giggled. But wild ginseng tea, even at knifepoint, tasted healthy.
“Huh?”
Seeing a familiar package on the sofa table, Hooyoung reached out. This was definitely…
“Our team uniform?”
“Yeah, yours.”
It was the home uniform top he wore most often. Not a replica with different material, but the same one the players wore.
“You bought this?”
“Yup.”
Hooyoung checked the size inside the packaging. It was one size larger than his. He gave a subtle smile. Did he look bigger to others?
“…Do I look like I wear a 110?”
“Nah, like a 100?”
Hooyoung’s eyes, full of anticipation, drooped instantly.
“It’s 105… Even if I’m skinny, I need a 105 for my shoulders.”
Junwook burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
“You keep acting so cute, huh?”
“It’s true, back in college, 105 was a bit big, but I trained hard in the off-season, so now 105 fits my shoulders perfectly.”
His shoulders had broadened a bit, but his natural frame and inability to gain weight meant it was still a bit loose. Still, Hooyoung stubbornly stuck to 105. It was an athlete’s pride. Most players around him couldn’t even fit into a 105, wearing sizes he’d never seen before.
“So why’d you buy this?”
“I was thinking while watching your game at home…”
Hooyoung glanced at the TV for no reason. Even now, Junwook watched his games and sent messages on game days. If he didn’t have time, he’d at least catch the highlights.
“You wearing that inner layer is really nice. I’m very satisfied. Love it.”
Since Junwook gave him the functional clothing, he never skipped wearing it. He even wore the leggings diligently. The front office staff said fans called him “Confucian Bbi-bbi” for it.
“But when you wear the uniform, it’s just, ugh, how do I put it politely… Hmm, sexier.”
Hooyoung shut his mouth. He knew exactly what Junwook was talking about. Junwook loved certain parts too much. To be precise, he loved the spot where hair used to be but was now gone. He’d try to touch Hooyoung’s armpit every chance he got. Even now, though it wasn’t bare skin, he was touching it over the clothes, saying it felt warm and soft or something.
“Anyway, I bought it to put it on Lee Hooyoung’s bare body. A slightly bigger size shows off the skin better, right?”
At that, Hooyoung quickly checked the time. On game days, he was too exhausted for sex, but if Junwook wanted it, that changed things. He had a rest day tomorrow before training, but still.
“Where you going?”
As Hooyoung stood up hurriedly with the uniform, Junwook grabbed him.
“…I was going to change into it.”
God, this guy. Junwook let out a dry laugh and pulled Hooyoung back onto the sofa.
“I’m not planning on doing it now.”
“…You’re not?”
“Nope, I’m not.”
Hooyoung looked at Junwook with a puzzled expression. Had Junwook ever turned down sex? Why? What was going on?
“Why?”
The guy who was always up for it holding back? It was earth-shattering. He was shocked but also suddenly anxious. Why? Why not? But as soon as Junwook saw the worry in Hooyoung’s eyes, he raised a hand and gently brushed his face.
“Please don’t worry about pointless things.”
Ugh. Hooyoung tried to dodge by tilting his head back, but the hand had already grazed his face.
“You’re going back tomorrow evening. Away games start the day after. Didn’t you say no doing it on weekdays? You’re so tired from the game you’d collapse in bed, and you’re talking about sex?”
That was then, this was now. His ankle wasn’t great, but his condition was fine, and more importantly, it was what Junwook wanted.
“It’s okay to do it.”
“Nope.”
Hooyoung’s eyes, nose, and mouth scrunched together.
“Do it.”
“No way.”
Junwook’s lips touched and left Hooyoung’s face a few times. The tenderness didn’t match someone saying no, so Hooyoung clung a bit more, but Junwook was firm.
“What am I going to do with this guy? Seriously, once the season’s over, ugh.”
“It’s not long now. Three weeks until the regular league ends, then playoffs next month. I’ll definitely win.”
Hooyoung spoke earnestly, but Junwook didn’t seem that interested in winning.
“God, when will you grow up?”
“…I’m already grown.”
“I know you’re grown. 181.4. I could recite Lee Hooyoung’s height down to the 0.4 in my sleep. Anyway, I don’t need a championship.”
“Why not?”
Hooyoung got serious. Why wouldn’t he need it? The championship was the biggest gift he could give right now. It was his new goal, so what was this bombshell?
“I’d rather hear you say the training facilities suck, so fix them up.”
The training facilities were great. He could confidently say they were the best among all teams.
“Or, the coach picks on me, so get a coach who’ll focus on me.”
“Our coach is great.”
That wasn’t needed either. The coach was rough around the edges but worked harder than anyone to win. Personally, Hooyoung preferred a brilliant strategist over a kind one. A leader who couldn’t win was useless in pro sports.
“Or at least say, I need this for basketball, buy it for me, or get me the best rehab specialist for my ankle. That’s what I’d want to hear.”
“…I don’t need that stuff.”
“Or even, I want to win, so get me Kevin Durant’s personal trainer or something.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Why want more or expect more? He didn’t think like that at all. He knew their relationship was past the point of feeling burdened by material things, but still, after everything he’d received, how could he ask for more? Even if he did his best for a lifetime, he probably couldn’t repay what he’d been given.
“Just wait till the season’s over. I’m holding back because it’s your busiest time, okay? Seriously.”
Seeing Hooyoung’s face stiffen, Junwook clicked his tongue, got up, and started removing the ice pack. Despite Hooyoung’s protests that he could do it, Junwook slapped his hands away—smack, smack—and did it himself, muttering to himself as he touched the ankle.
“Ugh, when will I fatten this up and gobble it down?”
“…My grandma already did all the fattening.”
“You think mentioning your grandma will scare me? Come on, get up. Let’s sleep. I know your eyes are drooping from exhaustion.”
Unable to argue further, Hooyoung grabbed Junwook’s hand as he was pulled up, holding both hands like a train and following along. Junwook walked slowly, so Hooyoung shuffled behind, eventually burying his face in Junwook’s back. He was letting Junwook lead the way.
“I like this more than a championship. Leaning on me, clinging, that kind of stuff.”
“…I’m going to win.”
“Or your butt. I think Lee Hooyoung’s butt is my favorite. So plump.”
Hmm, he wanted to ask whether the butt or armpit was better, but Hooyoung kept it to himself. Junwook would probably say he’d touch both to decide, and Hooyoung wasn’t about to give him a free pass to touch without doing anything else. It was petty revenge for always losing their verbal spars.
“You’re thinking naughty thoughts. I can feel your breath.”
Hooyoung shook his head against Junwook’s back, squashing his nose to deny it.
“Stairs. Want me to carry you?”
“…I can walk up.”
He was holding onto Junwook anyway, so he didn’t need to see. It was better than being carried.
“You’ve lost more weight, huh?”
“A little.”
As the second half of the season wore on, the physical toll made him lose both fat and muscle. It wasn’t just him—everyone did. He’d lost over three kilos since the season started. Being carried would probably lead to a lecture about it.
“I feed you good food, and you lose it. Feed you again, and you lose it.”
Following limply, they reached the bedroom. As soon as they entered, Hooyoung let go and walked on his own. He pulled his pajamas from the small dressing room’s wardrobe and put them on neatly. In this Seoul apartment and the training center house, Hooyoung’s clothes and belongings were naturally scattered everywhere.
Hooyoung let out a small giggle. Seeing his things naturally placed around always made him happy.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
Junwook’s bed was much softer and cozier than the old one at the dorm. The warmth from Junwook beside him was comforting.
“…You know.”
“Nothing. Sleep. I know you’ll be out in three seconds.”
“I’m definitely going to win.”
Ignoring Junwook cleanly, Hooyoung mumbled to himself, almost like sleep-talking.
“A guy who hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol is acting drunk.”
Smack, smack. Hooyoung fell into a deep sleep, unaware of the slaps on his butt.
🏀
This season’s Korean pro basketball didn’t decide the regular league champion until the very end. Big Whales, who had a three-game lead early in the sixth round and seemed poised to win, faced a setback with their mercenary’s injury. The injury of a top-tier mercenary was a massive blow. In a team sport with only five players on the court, the mercenary was half the team’s strength.
A regular season was 54 games. Big Whales lost their final five games in a row. Some were close, but they all ended in defeat. Bad luck didn’t help—the teams they faced in the end were fighting desperately for the top-six playoff spots. With weakened strength, it was hard to handle teams going all out.
Big Whales, who had taken the regular league championship for granted, ultimately fell short. They finished second, one game behind, as runners-up. For a team that hadn’t made the playoffs in three years, second place was impressive, but no one—players, coaches, or front office—was happy. They had practically held the regular league trophy only to lose it at the last moment. The front office had even ordered celebratory banners.
Hooyoung’s sense of loss was indescribable. After losing the final game, he couldn’t even lift his head in front of Junwook.
“You’re not going to look up? Not going to show your face?”
Junwook tried to cheer up a sulky Hooyoung curled up in the corner of the sofa, but it wasn’t easy. When he tried to lift him, Hooyoung resisted with all his strength.
“Second place is great too. I heard you’re a strong MIP1) candidate? You did awesome. So cool. I’m falling for you all over again.”
Despite Junwook’s playful efforts, Hooyoung wouldn’t look at him.
“We’re seeing each other today, but it’ll be a while before we meet again.”
That must have triggered something. Hooyoung’s head sank lower, and his shoulders started shaking.
“Are you crying?!”
Waaah. The tears finally burst. Clutching Junwook’s arm as he came closer, Hooyoung sobbed. Big teardrops fell—drip, drip.
“You’re crying this much over this?! Did you lose the country or something?!”
Junwook tried to lighten the mood, but it was no use. Hooyoung just wailed without speaking.
“No, really, how… ugh, it was ours…”
“It’s okay. These things happen. Last year, you didn’t even make the playoffs.”
“We, we were first… ugh, it was ours…”
No words could console him. The goal was the championship, but there was no option for failing the regular season. It was a given. And ending the regular season like this could shatter team morale in an instant. The injured mercenary could play in the playoffs, thankfully, but losing first place after holding it was deeply demoralizing.
“…I really wanted to do it.”
“Anyone would think it’s all over.”
Junwook sat close, hugging Hooyoung’s head. They didn’t win, but the second-place team got the same advantages. The top two regular season teams were guaranteed over a week of rest and faced teams coming off the top-six playoffs, giving them a physical edge. Aside from missing the regular season title, the conditions were the same, though momentum could differ.
“And I was trying to hold back, but I really don’t need a championship. If you’re doing this just for me, stop.”
Junwook patted his back, but it didn’t reach Hooyoung. Even while crying, he kept muttering about needing to win, about it being theirs.
“If it’s for you, that’s fine. But I’m not grateful if you’re breaking yourself for me. Got it?”
That was absurd, Hooyoung thought. Doing it for Junwook, giving him the championship, was what he wanted. Junwook didn’t get it.
“…What if I can’t win?”
The first words Hooyoung managed to say, lifting his head.
“Next year, or the year after if it doesn’t work out. I’ll tell them to get a great mercenary, no matter the means—backroom deals, secret contracts, whatever.”
Hooyoung frowned and pushed Junwook away.
“What is this, a story from ten years ago?”
“You’re crying like a baby, so there.”
Seeing him calm a bit, Junwook quickly handed him water. But Hooyoung, gulping it down, remained gloomy that night as he fell asleep and the next day heading to the training court. He knew he needed to shake it off and practice as usual, but it was hard. Everything felt anxious and worrisome.
Hooyoung’s state showed clearly in training, and the team started to waver. But neither the coach nor the staff could easily scold or reprimand him. That’s how short-term battles like the playoffs were. Messing with a player’s form or routine, solidified over the regular season, could ruin everything. Rashly introducing new tactics was tough too. Both players and coaches were on edge.
Perhaps Grandmother knew that I couldn’t focus properly. At the hospital, where Hooyoung rushed after a sudden call, he had to finally let Grandmother go.
He had always been mentally prepared, had steeled himself for it, but it was still a shock that shook both body and mind. They didn’t hold a funeral. The club and teammates, aware that he had rushed over during training, called one after another offering to come, but Hooyoung declined. Above all, knowing Grandmother’s personality during her lifetime, he was certain she would have opposed it. It was obvious she would have said, “Why spend money when there are hardly any people coming? What kind of nuisance is it to disrupt everyone’s training because of me?”
They concluded the funeral simply, performing only the basic rites without a memorial service. Grandmother, reduced to a handful of ashes, was laid to rest beside Grandfather at a tree burial site. It was a memorial park at the edge of Gyeonggi-do. Junwook drove. Even though Hooyoung hadn’t contacted him, Junwook’s car was there as usual when he stepped out of the hospital.
“It’s a nice place.”
Though it was in Gyeonggi-do, Junwook drove silently for over two hours to reach it.
“It’s a place Grandfather and Grandmother chose themselves.”
It was an affordable place due to its low accessibility, but the scenery was exceptionally beautiful. Not wanting to burden their grandson even with their funeral, Grandfather had paid for everything in advance when his health began to decline. Hooyoung’s family could only afford to spend on anything beyond living expenses by saving and scrimping from their meager allowance. Even that took a very long time. Grandfather had secured a resting place for the couple with the lunch money saved over years of bringing packed lunches.
Upon arriving at the memorial park, Hooyoung stopped Junwook, who was about to get out of the car.
“I’ll go alone.”
Junwook got back into the car without a word. Hooyoung gave a small smile and walked off alone.
When it came to sending Grandmother off for the last time, he wanted to be alone. To be precise, he wanted it to be just Grandfather, Grandmother, and himself—only family. Just, just that’s how he wanted it. A poor but truly harmonious family. Even when loan sharks and their gang messed up the house, Grandfather and Grandmother would laugh heartily, saying they had protected the side dishes in the fridge, and clean up together.
Grandfather and Grandmother’s trees were at the highest and most secluded spot in the memorial park. Compared to the splendid, large trees in prominent, easily accessible spots, theirs were small and unremarkable. But to his eyes, they looked the best. That was enough.
“Just wait a little longer.”
Watching the park caretaker dig a small hole in front of the tree, Hooyoung murmured softly. Just as he wanted to dedicate a championship to Junwook, he wanted to show it to Grandmother too. That’s how he wanted to send her off. To tell his beloved grandmother, who loved her grandson so much, that he was doing so well, so she could leave without worry.
Strangely, no tears came, not when he got the call, nor when Grandmother’s breathing completely stopped. Perhaps because he had been preparing for it for over a year, the sense of loss wasn’t overwhelmingly huge. But a bitter sense of defeat washed over him. The shock of having accomplished nothing hit his entire body. It snapped him awake. He had been saying that his goal was to win a championship, that he would win, but he was still stuck in the same place.
“Pay your respects and send her off well.”
After mixing the ashes with soil, scattering them, and covering them with earth again, the caretaker went down first. Hooyoung stood for a long time looking at the two trees in front of him, then sat down beside them and took out his phone. When he typed “Lee Hooyoung draft” into the search bar, Grandmother’s face appeared. My beloved grandmother.
“Our Yeppi, he’s really, really kind and hardworking. Our Yeppi has been focused on basketball without distraction since he was little. He listens so well, doesn’t do bad things… So, Coach, sunbae-nim, please take good care of him.”
One of the good things about receiving a lot of sponsorship was having many family photos. From the moment he started playing basketball, there were photos with Grandmother on the left and Grandfather on the right, piling up steadily. In the center, he was always holding a sponsorship certificate with the amount written on it.
“I’ll do well.”
Hooyoung said, gently brushing his hand over Grandmother’s face on the phone. He wasn’t sure if it was a promise to her or a vow to himself.
“I’ll get it together.”
Maybe he had gotten too comfortable as his situation improved and the team kept winning. Maybe he had lost his sense of urgency while talking about winning a championship. He had forgotten how he managed to keep playing basketball. He had to play desperately every day to keep the sponsorships coming, and during high school and college, he had to be drafted high to pay off debts, so he ran until his body felt like it would break.
“I’ll be a grandson you’re not ashamed of.”
Hooyoung stood up and brushed off his pants.
Junwook, leaning against the car waiting, straightened up when he saw Hooyoung coming down. He was holding a pamphlet from the memorial park, probably having read it out of boredom.
“Did you send her off well?”
“Yes.”
Noticing Junwook examining his face closely, Hooyoung gave a slight smile as if to say not to worry. He tried to lift the corners of his mouth as much as possible, but it came out a bit crooked, though his feelings were conveyed well enough. Junwook brushed Hooyoung’s bangs with his hand once and took the wheel.
Though Hooyoung didn’t say anything, the car naturally headed toward the club’s clubhouse. Even with the bereavement, at least three days of leave were guaranteed, but Hooyoung had no intention of resting, and Junwook, expecting as much, set the destination for the clubhouse.
The car was as quiet on the way back as it had been on the way there. Hooyoung buried himself in the seat, looking out the window until the dormitory came into view.
“We’re here.”
As Junwook stopped the car completely, Hooyoung slowly unbuckled his seatbelt.
“I’ll get going. Thank you for today.”
As Hooyoung bowed his head and tried to leave quickly, Junwook grabbed his wrist.
“Not yet.”
Hooyoung, in an awkward half-standing position, met Junwook’s eyes.
“Give me one kiss before you go.”
“What?”
Hooyoung, raising his eyebrows high, asked again.
“I won’t ask anything, won’t say anything else. Just give me one kiss before you go.”
Hooyoung stared blankly at Junwook for a while. Junwook, who always seemed to see through his heart, felt miraculous. He was someone who showed him he wasn’t alone in a world where he was left alone. Hooyoung’s hands instinctively rose to hold Junwook’s cheeks. As he slowly leaned in, Junwook’s eyes closed softly, and soon the gentle touch of his lips was felt. For a moment, Hooyoung felt embarrassed by his own rough lips, having stayed up almost all night, but then Junwook pulled him closer, and their lips pressed deeper. As Hooyoung parted his lips, which had only been touching, Junwook’s moist tongue gently explored inside.
The kiss wasn’t long. It was a brief moment, not even enough to make them breathless. Junwook, now holding Hooyoung’s face in return, gave a few more short kisses before wiping the saliva from Hooyoung’s lips with his thumb.
“Go, now.”
“I’m going.”
“Okay.”
Despite saying he was leaving, Hooyoung lingered, looking at Junwook’s face for a while before finally turning and getting out of the car. Junwook watched Hooyoung’s back as he walked into the dormitory for a long time.
As expected, Hooyoung’s contact stopped completely after that.
🏀
An elimination game refers to a match played in a do-or-die situation. It’s a term used when a loss means the series is over, so you absolutely have to win. For example, in a best-of-seven series, the fourth game after losing three times would be called an elimination game.
Lose, and it’s over; win, and there’s a next game. The tension for the players is indescribable, and they approach it with the mindset of going to war. Such games are often battles of attrition. Winning can give an incredible boost in momentum. It’s not unheard of for a team to lose a few games early but win an elimination game, gain momentum, and go on to win the remaining games.
The Big Whales, who missed the regular league championship and entered the playoffs, and Hooyoung, who had to stand alone, were now facing an elimination game with no room to retreat.
Junwook visited his eldest hyung’s house after a long time. Despite always grumbling, their family bond was quite strong.
“What happened with that dog you said you’d raise?”
“A dog?!”
At Chairman Eun’s question while drinking coffee, the eldest hyung’s wife reacted immediately.
“Uncle’s raising a dog?!”
The nephews, who were far off, shouted excitedly. Even in a chaebol family, it was just like any other household. Parents were worried about adopting a pet, while the kids were enthusiastically in favor.
“Didn’t you go to a training center?”
“Yeah, well… He’s probably training hard? Growing well. Don’t worry.”
“You’re actually raising it? What kind of answer is that?”
Junwook sipped his tea, changing the subject to how warm it had gotten or how it was spring. Everyone got coffee, but he was given wild ginseng tea brewed by his eldest hyung himself. He’d been consistently taking it after hearing it was good, and this was the result. Hmm, so this is what it tastes like?
Savoring the taste of the tea he was trying for the first time, Junwook glanced at his watch, stood up abruptly, and left. It was a time he’d been waiting for days.
“Maknae, are you crazy?”
Chairman Eun said, seeing Junwook sit on the sofa with a serious face.
“…Dad, why do you talk to Uncle like that?”
The eldest nephew, sitting next to Junwook, frowned and said something to Chairman Eun. Like most nephews, Juwon, who had become a middle schooler this year, liked Junwook more than his parents. Juwon cherished Junwook so much that he kept a photo of himself with Junwook in his school uniform on his desk. He might ignore his dad, Chairman Eun’s nagging, but he listened to Junwook.
“Yeah, hyung, why do you talk to your little brother like that?”
“So who sits with such a sour face and turns on the TV when we’re finally together as a family? And a sports channel at that?”
“Don’t you know it’s our basketball team’s playoff game today? How can you be so uninterested as an owner? Just going to the opening ceremony and taking a few photos is enough for you, huh?”
Ugh, ugh, this punk. The second hyung acted like he was going to smack Junwook’s head but sat down next to him. Whether they cared or not, once Junwook turned it on, they couldn’t help but watch.
Today was the day of the HG Big Whales’ semifinal playoff game. The first game to kick off the playoffs. Their opponent was the Hyowon Winners, with whom they had a fierce battle in the opening game.
“Uncle! It’s starting.”
Juwon and Junwook sat side by side, focusing on the TV. The difference was that Juwon had his hands full of cola and potato chips, while Junwook sat upright, as if in a meeting, unable to even cross his legs.
“Does he think he’s playing the game himself? Why’s he so nervous? Cute, huh?”
“No idea. Is that the same guy who said he’d skip work and fly to the States?”
As his hyungs’ conversation reached his ears, Junwook and Juwon raised their index fingers to their lips. It was disturbing their focus.
“Hey, come on!”
The screen showed the players during the national anthem. As always, Hooyoung was right at the front. Tsk. Junwook clicked his tongue softly. Anyone could see he had noticeably lost weight. He must have been training like crazy since that day.
—Lee Hooyoung had some unfortunate news before these playoffs. According to Big Whales’ Coach Park, Lee Hooyoung, whose grandmother who raised him passed away, trained extremely hard to dedicate a championship to her.
The caster and commentator continued their banter. Seeing Hooyoung come down alone from the park, Junwook had a gut feeling. He could picture Hooyoung focusing until he achieved what he wanted. Honestly, Junwook wished Hooyoung would take better care of himself rather than aim for a championship, but if that was Hooyoung’s goal, he had no intention of stopping him.
“Even after losing weight, his hips are still there.”
Muttering with pursed lips, Juwon asked, “What did you say, Uncle?” but Junwook shook his head, saying it was nothing. He was pleased to see Hooyoung properly wearing his inner shirt and leggings that reached his forearms.
“Cute, though.”
“Cute? Who?”
Even though puberty should have hit by now, Juwon still had an innocent side.
“Yeah, yeah, the team mascot. They designed it well.”
“…Since when did you like those mascot costumes?”
“Hmm, for a while now.”
Juwon looked at him incredulously, but Junwook shamelessly kept his eyes fixed on the TV.
—Wow, Lee Hooyoung is out here with a purpose today. He’s putting on a one-man show!
The caster’s excited voice continued. Not long after the game started, Hooyoung, with his still-fresh bangs fluttering, didn’t avoid the defender in front of him and took on a 1:1 matchup. Feinting a breakthrough, he shot from the spot and scored.
—Lee Hooyoung’s strength is his midrange game. Even in this era of three-point basketball where everyone needs to shoot threes regardless of position, the two-point midrange shot is really important. Having more options as a guard is a huge advantage.
Today’s game was practically Hooyoung’s one-man show.
“Uncle, that guy’s really good. He looks small and skinny, kinda frail, but still. Well, there are plenty of NBA players who aren’t physically strong but do well.”
“Yeah, he’s good.”
And cute. Junwook, resting his chin on his hand, smiled subtly. He wanted to grin widely but was barely holding back. Anyone looking might ask if he gave birth to Lee Hooyoung.
Time flew by. By the third and fourth quarters after halftime, the game was already mostly decided. Unlike the intensity of the opening game, it wasn’t close. Though it was just the first game, the commentator mentioned several times that there seemed to be a gap in strength between the two teams.
“Whoa!”
Juwon, watching the TV, pointed and shouted. The caster and commentator were shouting too. Junwook, who had been watching lazily with his chin propped up, sat up straight.
—Ouch, injuries are something you really have to be careful about. Both the Big Whales and the Winners have a long way to go, so an injury to a key player is absolutely not okay.
While defending an opponent guard, Hooyoung slipped on the sweaty floor and fell. He couldn’t get up for a moment, grimacing as he slowly stood.
—Lee Hooyoung struggled with an ankle injury late this season. Ankles are tricky; unless you rest, treat, and rehab them fully, they can easily get reinjured if you push too hard, so you have to be extra careful. Plus, the Big Whales missed the regular league championship due to an injury to their foreign player.
—As you said, Lee Hooyoung is practically half of the Big Whales’ strength right now. Oh, he’s tapping and rotating his ankle, checking it, and now he’s back in. Looks like he’s okay. That’s a relief.
Hooyoung started running again. Junwook, who had been frowning momentarily, soon leaned back and focused. It seemed the pain was fleeting, as Hooyoung was flying around again.
—Lee Hooyoung! He reaches a career-high 30 points today!
Thirty points, seven assists. It was a dazzling playoff debut for Hooyoung. A few strands of his soaked hair stuck to his forehead caught Junwook’s eye. How is his forehead so round and prominent? Ah, I want to touch it.
Junwook opened his phone calendar and noted “career high” on today’s date. If nothing else, this was worth remembering.
“I thought missing the regular league championship meant it was over. But if they make it to the championship series, I might have to go to the game.”
Junwook glared narrowly at his second hyung, who was teasing him.
“Over? What’s over? Don’t you know a championship or runner-up has the same merit? You’ve been in sports for years; why act like that?”
“Why? It’s cute when you get riled up.”
Chairman Eun laughed and chimed in. Both were busy teasing Junwook.
“If it’s the championship series, we have to go. If we win, we’ll have a celebratory dinner together. That’s the vibe, Dad.”
All three brothers laughed in unison at Juwon’s words.
The HG Big Whales comfortably won the first game of the semifinal playoffs, followed by victories in the second and third games after a day’s rest. The Hyowon Winners couldn’t take a single game from the Big Whales.
After losing the final games of the sixth round, predictions that the Big Whales would struggle even if they reached the playoffs or championship series were overturned in an instant.
The playoffs were a grueling schedule that pushed players’ stamina to the limit. After the semifinals, with just two days of rest, the championship series began. It was a showdown between two teams that had been aiming for this series for over six months. Unlike the best-of-five semifinals and quarterfinals, it was a best-of-seven series.
As expected, the opponent in the championship series was the Daesong Rhinos. The two, who had fought fiercely until the end of the regular league, were facing off again. The matchup that had been the talk of the season’s end reignited, and fans were ablaze. Tickets sold out daily, with news reporting record-breaking ticket sales.
Game 1. At the Rhinos’ home court, the Big Whales lost miserably, 92–70. The camera lingered on Hooyoung, who managed only 4 points and 5 assists, walking off with his head down.
Game 2. The Big Whales struck back. Hooyoung and the foreign player’s 2-on-2 plays exploded, leading to an 84–88 victory for the Big Whales. Some began to say the Big Whales could win the championship, but others noted that their offense relied heavily on Hooyoung and the foreign player, predicting they’d tire out as the series went on.
Game 3. The Big Whales won at home, 90–87. Besides Hooyoung and the foreign player, Jaeik’s so-called insane defense played a huge role, tightly marking the opponent’s ace.
In Game 4, the Rhinos won, and in Game 5, the Big Whales won, making the series 3–2. The Rhinos won Game 6, tying the series at 3–3.
And today was the long-awaited Game 7.
“Is the Daesong owner coming too?”
Just like at the opening game, the three brothers got into the car together. However, while Chairman Eun and the second hyung were all smiles, full of excitement, Junwook kept a stern face, glancing out the window, then at his phone, back and forth.
“…Maknae, are you nervous?”
When Junwook frowned silently, others might think he was angry, but his hyungs knew it was from nervousness.
“I’m not nervous.”
“You are, big time. You’ve got a huge crease between your brows.”
Junwook glared at his second hyung once before fixing his gaze forward.
“Chairman, Daesong is attending, but it’s not their owner, Mr. Oh, coming. I understand it’s an executive acting on behalf of the team.”
Suhwan, as always the designated driver, said quietly.
“They’ve won a lot, haven’t they? For us, with our last championship like ten years ago, the whole owner family rushes out when we reach the finals. Why are you guys going anyway? It’s not even our home court.”
Game 7 was being held at the Rhinos’ home arena.
“The response from our last opening game visit was huge. This time, the secretarial office recommended we go. Well, I was going to go anyway to see our maknae sweating bullets.”
“Sweating bullets, my foot.”
He acted nonchalant, but his hyungs were right. Junwook hadn’t had a single peaceful day during the playoffs. He didn’t send Hooyoung any messages this time either. He didn’t think Hooyoung would read them anyway. He only sent food to the club when they safely completed the semifinals.
Hooyoung’s overly humble attitude after paying off his debts and his insistence on winning a championship—none of it sat well with Junwook. He understood it would take time for Hooyoung to naturally accept what he did for him, but he still felt a bit disappointed. However, seeing Hooyoung sink after missing the regular league championship and losing his grandmother, Junwook decided it wasn’t the time to rush him. Now was the time to wait quietly and show the demeanor of an adult.
“The foreign player we traded the regular league championship for looks healthy, but they say Lee Hooyoung isn’t doing well?”
“Wow, harsh much? If I said, ‘Hyung, your biotech division isn’t doing well?’ after a bad earnings report, you’d lose it.”
“…You already said it, you punk.”
Junwook, snorting at his second hyung’s indignation, looked at his phone again. He was already worried. As the series went on, the effects of the injury were getting worse. It wasn’t just the injury; various circumstances played a part, but fans who didn’t know the situation wouldn’t understand.
[4 points, 8 assists for Lee Hooyoung. Are the Big Whales okay like this?]
[McGee finds his groove, but Lee Hooyoung doesn’t. The Big Whales’ faltering offense.]
[HG Big Whales Coach Park Dong-jin interview: “Lee Hooyoung’s ankle isn’t in great shape, but there’s no issue with him playing in Game 7. He’s essential for running the game as a point guard.”]
Hooyoung’s performance was inconsistent. On good days, he played at an MVP level, but on bad days, his stats were barely those of a sixth man. Comments like “Is that a second-year player?” came naturally for his bold plays, but so did “Why is he so passive?” for others. Junwook could only guess it was due to intermittent ankle pain. He didn’t ask the club directly, not wanting to burden him.
“Hey, like Junwook said, even if they lose, we can console him and say he did well. Plus, with Junwook being this involved in the sports team, even if basketball doesn’t win, maybe baseball will, right? That’s like eating the pheasant and the egg.”
Baseball will handle itself. Junwook thought to himself, his mind full of nothing but basketball. To be honest, it wasn’t even basketball—just Hooyoung. A kid whose body is his asset, yet doesn’t know how to take care of it. Geez. Junwook put his hand to his forehead.
The atmosphere at the arena was electric. Though it was Daesong’s home court, being in the capital region, the fans were split almost evenly between the two teams.
“Director, how should we handle greetings with Daesong?”
Suhwan whispered to Junwook, who had taken his seat.