Chapter 197: Chapter 197: Morning Mischief

Sunlight crept through the slats of Joon-ho’s blinds, slicing stripes of gold over bare limbs and tangled sheets. Ji-hye floated somewhere on the edge of waking, pressed into the soft mattress, her muscles deliciously sore. The distant sound of city traffic was muffled by thick curtains and her own contented exhaustion. Joon-ho’s arm was thrown heavy across her waist, his body curved behind hers, the steady rise and fall of his chest a grounding anchor. She shifted, feeling bruises along her neck, the sticky aftermath of a night that felt both endless and far too short.

She tried to burrow deeper into the pillow, not ready to surrender the warmth or the safety of his arms. In the faint hush before morning routines, nothing else mattered—no tournaments, no pressure, not even the teasing that would inevitably come.

Downstairs, the outer door to the clinic clicked open. Footsteps—confident, quick—echoed on the stairs, followed by a lighter, more hesitant set. Harin’s voice carried, low and authoritative, as she explained something in clipped tones to the woman trailing behind her.

"Just keep your eyes up and don’t worry about the mess. Joon-ho lives like a man-child, but you get used to it." Harin was never shy, and she never bothered to lower her voice. "If he’s not up yet, that’s his problem. It’s not like he pays me enough to babysit him."

Soo-jin giggled nervously, her voice much softer. "Sunbae, are you sure we can just... go in?"

"I’ve got a key. And it’s not like he’d be doing anything interesting at this hour." Harin’s confidence was absolute. She reached the door to the apartment, twisted her key in the lock, and swung the door wide.

The living room was a mess of laundry baskets, a stray jacket, and an empty cup from last night. Harin barely gave it a glance. "He’s probably sleeping. Come on." She motioned for Soo-jin to follow, toeing off her shoes and making straight for the hallway. Soo-jin hesitated, eyes wide as she took in the chaos, then scampered after her mentor.

In the bedroom, Joon-ho was already awake. He’d heard the door, heard Harin’s voice, and was untangling himself from Ji-hye, lips curved in a smile that was equal parts fondness and exasperation. Ji-hye groaned, not yet fully conscious, instinctively pulling the blanket over her face.

The door burst open.

Harin didn’t bother to knock. She strode in, hair pulled back in a loose bun, loose jeans and a faded tee—no-nonsense, unhurried, always in control. "Rise and shine, lovebirds!" She surveyed the scene: Ji-hye sprawled and barely covered, Joon-ho bare-chested with only a sheet slung around his hips.

Joon-ho just smirked, stretching lazily. "You could at least pretend to be surprised."

Harin grinned. "Not after last night’s phone call. I could practically hear her moaning through the wall, you know." She winked at Ji-hye, who squeaked and ducked further under the blanket.

Soo-jin, who had peeked around the door, turned beet red. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry—I didn’t—"

Harin waved her off, striding over to the bed. "You’ll get used to it, Soo-jin. If you’re going to work here, you’ll see a lot worse." She knelt on the edge of the mattress and yanked at the blanket. "Come on, Ji-hye. Don’t be shy. Let us see the damage."

Ji-hye tried to cling to the sheets, but Harin was relentless. In one swift tug, she pulled the blanket free, baring Ji-hye’s upper body to the morning light. Hickeys in various stages of bloom littered her neck and collarbone. A bite mark decorated her shoulder, and faint bruises peeked from beneath the oversized shirt she’d thrown on sometime during the night.

Harin’s eyes went wide, her mouth stretching into a wolfish grin. "Damn, Ji-hye. Looks like you got mauled. Was he this rough before, or is he trying to make up for lost time?"

Ji-hye buried her face in her hands, groaning. "Unnie, please—"

"Oh, don’t be shy! You should be proud. Honestly, these are impressive." Harin leaned closer, running her finger over a particularly nasty love bite. "You’re lucky I’m not taking photos for evidence. If Coach Min saw this—"

Ji-hye’s hands shot up, trying to shield her neck. "Don’t you dare!"

Joon-ho, watching the chaos, couldn’t resist. "I did offer her an ice pack, but she didn’t want to stop."

"Please," Ji-hye muttered, peeking through her fingers at Soo-jin, who looked mortified and fascinated all at once. "Don’t listen to them. It’s not always like this."

Harin cackled, sitting back on her heels. "No need to be modest. It’s good to see you two getting reacquainted. It’s been what—two months since you last saw each other? I’d have gone wild, too."

Ji-hye squirmed, tucking her knees up to her chest, cheeks burning. "It’s only been six weeks."

"That’s practically starvation," Harin pronounced. "Come on, get up. I want breakfast, and I refuse to make it myself."

Joon-ho rolled out of bed, wrapping the sheet around his hips as he made for the bathroom. "You want eggs or just coffee?"

"Both," Harin called, tossing a pillow at his retreating back. "And bacon. Don’t forget the bacon."

Ji-hye, finally extricated from Harin’s grip, glared playfully. "You’re impossible, unnie."

Harin just grinned, tugging at Ji-hye’s ankle until she shrieked. "Impossible but lovable. Come on. Let’s get you fed before you collapse. You look like you’ve lost a liter of fluids."

Soo-jin, eyes still wide, trailed after them into the bathroom. Ji-hye washed up at the sink, Harin standing guard at the door, ready to shoo anyone else away. Joon-ho joined them, and there was a brief, chaotic ballet as everyone fought for space, toothbrushes exchanged, towels grabbed. Harin helped towel off Ji-hye’s hair, fussing in her older-sister way, making sure every stray hickey was exposed and teased.

"You could at least pretend to be embarrassed," Ji-hye grumbled, swatting Harin’s hands away.

Harin smirked. "Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, Soo-jin should see what happens when you let your guard down around this one," she said, jerking her chin at Joon-ho. "Let it be a warning."

Soo-jin blushed, mumbling, "Noted, sunbae."

Once washed and halfway presentable, they wandered back to the kitchen. Ji-hye snagged one of Joon-ho’s shirts from the laundry basket, buttoning it only halfway, her panties the only other thing she wore. She felt oddly comfortable, even as the material brushed against her still-sensitive skin, the marks beneath tingling every time she moved.

Joon-ho was already busy at the stove, whisking eggs, bacon popping in the skillet. Harin perched on the counter, legs swinging, stealing pieces of toast as soon as they popped up. Soo-jin set the table, sneaking glances at Ji-hye every few seconds, awe and envy warring in her eyes.

Ji-hye caught her staring and grinned. "Sorry, I’m not always such a mess in the mornings. Usually, I only look half this terrible."

Soo-jin shook her head, smiling shyly. "You look amazing. I saw you play at Nationals last year. I can’t believe I’m having breakfast with you."

Ji-hye blushed, ducking her head. "It’s just breakfast. I promise, no autographs unless you ask nicely."

Harin groaned. "God, don’t encourage her, Soo-jin. She’s insufferable when she gets recognized. Last week, she signed a volleyball for a little kid at court and wouldn’t shut up about it."

Ji-hye stuck out her tongue. "Says the woman who made the kid take a selfie with both of us."

Joon-ho slid a plate of eggs onto the table, rolling his eyes. "If you’re both done fighting over who’s the biggest celebrity, eat before it gets cold."

They settled in around the small table, legs tangled underfoot, laughter filling the air. Harin reached for more bacon, stacking her plate, then eyed Ji-hye’s shirt. "You know, unnie, you should wear Joon-ho’s clothes more often. It’s a good look for you—kind of ’walk of shame, but make it fashion.’"

Ji-hye snorted, tossing a napkin at her. "You’re lucky I like you."

Soo-jin, emboldened, piped up. "Do you train every morning, Ji-hye-unnie? Or do you just do... this?"

The question drew a round of laughter. Joon-ho leaned back, arms crossed, smirking. "She can’t move today. I wore her out. Doctor’s orders—plenty of rest and hydration."

Ji-hye groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "I’m never living this down, am I?"

Harin patted her on the back. "Nope. Not until you win us another gold medal. Then maybe I’ll stop teasing you. Maybe."

Breakfast drifted into gossip, the conversation turning to Ji-hye’s recent matches, Harin’s run-ins with the new LUNE contractor ("He’s useless, but at least he’s pretty"), and Soo-jin’s disastrous first attempt at making coffee for a client.

"I put salt in it by accident," Soo-jin confessed, mortified.

Harin howled with laughter. "Better than the time I set the coffee pot on fire. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the chaos."

Joon-ho, always one to shift gears, glanced at Soo-jin. "What’s the clinic schedule look like for today?"

Soo-jin brightened, pulling up her phone. "Just one client, at two this afternoon. I triple-checked. Otherwise, nothing until tomorrow."

"Perfect," Joon-ho said. "That gives us time to check out the LUNE office. Harin, you ready to play interior designer?"

She grinned, tossing her hair. "I was born ready. But only if you let me fire the contractor."

Ji-hye groaned. "You say that every time."

"He deserves it," Harin insisted, piling more toast on her plate. "You’ll see. The paint job is a disaster, the new couch is already stained, and they put the logo up backwards."

Joon-ho rolled his eyes, amused. "Fine. We’ll handle it together. Ji-hye, you want to come?"

Ji-hye stretched, wincing a little as her muscles protested. "I think I’ll stay here and recover. Maybe do some stretching if my body allows."

Soo-jin beamed. "I’ll stay with you, unnie. Maybe you can show me some stretches? I want to learn more about your routine."

Ji-hye grinned, ruffling Soo-jin’s hair. "Sure. But I’m not going easy on you."

Harin snorted. "That’s her payback for all my teasing."

They finished breakfast with the easy camaraderie of people who had weathered too many mornings together to bother with formality. Plates were stacked, dishes washed with more splashing than scrubbing, and soon enough the apartment was bustling again.

Harin corralled Joon-ho, dragging him toward the door. "Let’s go, boss. If we’re late, I’m blaming you."

He gave Ji-hye a long, lingering kiss—slow and deep, full of promises for later—before heading out with Harin, both of them bickering good-naturedly all the way down the stairs.

Left alone, Ji-hye and Soo-jin eyed the empty living room, sunlight warming the space. Soo-jin picked up a yoga mat, hopeful and eager. Ji-hye rolled her eyes, grinning. "All right, rookie. Let’s see what you’ve got."

But as she stretched, every muscle ached in that perfect, lingering way—a reminder of the night before, and the sweet, chaotic mess that came with loving Joon-ho and this entire strange, beautiful family.

And outside, the city pulsed with possibility, another day waiting to unfold.