Bailey Dofen had survived worse than an arrogant man with a sponsorship contract.  

She’d survived ankle sprains, eleven-hour training days, and roommates who thought whispering counted as “quiet.”  

So when Man Olid showed up at the badminton center again—this time wearing the easy grin of a man who’d already made himself comfortable—she told herself she could handle it.

What she couldn’t handle was how good he looked holding a clipboard.

“Morning, Coach Justice,” he said. “Ready to save more civilians today?”

“Depends,” Bailey said without glancing up from taping her wrist. “Planning to assault any minors?”

“Not before lunch.” He leaned against the bench, too close, smelling faintly of espresso and confidence. “I brought paperwork. Sponsorship logistics, athlete profiles… and caffeine.”

“I said I don’t drink coffee before training.”

He held up a thermos. “This one’s tea. I adapt.”

She looked at him for the first time. “You adapt, or you stalk?”

“I multitask.”

Bailey huffed. “Must be exhausting, being this pleased with yourself.”

“I’ve trained for years.” He smiled. “It’s basically cardio.”

“Your ego must burn a lot of calories.”

“Healthy metabolism,” he said, tapping the folder. “Anyway, sign this before your coach hunts me down.”

Bailey read the header. *Olid Enterprises—Athlete Partnership Agreement.*  

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re the Olid in Olid Enterprises?”

“Last I checked.”

“So this isn’t a coincidence.”

“Coincidences are for people without initiative.”  

She capped her pen. “And boundaries.”

“I have those too. I just visit them occasionally.”

“Right,” she said dryly, “like a tourist.”

“Exactly.” He beamed. “We’re communicating.”

Bailey inhaled through her nose. “You talk like a motivational poster that needs therapy.”

He chuckled, lowering his voice. “And you talk like you secretly enjoy me.”

“I don’t,” she said. “I tolerate you. Barely.”

“Progress,” he murmured.

Coach Lin called from across the court. “Bailey, warm-up. Two rounds.”

She nodded and started to rise, but Man held out the thermos again. “For when you finish. Green tea, low caffeine.”

She took it, mostly to make him leave. “If this is poisoned, I’ll haunt you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He hesitated, then smiled softer. “You really don’t like surprises, do you?”

“I’m allergic,” she said.

“Then I’ll warn you next time I show up.”

“Please don’t.”

“Consider it done.”

Two hours later, practice ended. Bailey sat by the bleachers, sweat dampening her towel.  

Man was still there, watching the team with unexpected focus. Not flirting, not performing—just observing.  

When he caught her looking, he offered a small salute. “You hit cleaner when you’re annoyed.”

She snorted. “Then congratulations, you’re improving my stats.”

“That’s what sponsors are for.”

“Pretty sure sponsors don’t usually heckle.”

“I’m redefining the role.”

She grabbed her bag. “Redefine it somewhere else.”

He followed her to the exit. “You always this warm to new business partners?”

“Only the uninvited ones.”

“Good. Keeps life interesting.”

“Yours maybe.”

Outside, the air smelled like rain. Man opened his umbrella, tilted it slightly so it covered her too.  

Bailey hesitated, half under, half out.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said. “I’m doing it anyway.”

“That’s not very businesslike.”

He smiled sideways. “Lucky for you, I’m terrible at just business.”

She bit back a smile. “You talk too much.”

“Only because silence feels heavier around you.”

Bailey blinked, caught off guard. “That’s… manipulative.”

“Accurate, though?”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer unforgettable.”

“Same thing,” she said—and this time, she didn’t hide the grin.

Man looked satisfied, umbrella tilted just enough to keep the rain off her shoulders.  

For once, neither of them spoke.  

And somehow, the silence didn’t feel empty at all.