16 hours earlier

Jinwoo registered the impact and braced himself — don’t react, don’t frown, let security be the bad guy, just keep signing.

“Oh fuck me!!”

He quirked an eyebrow at that — English?

The swear word was what earned a head turn, and what he saw was — well. Jin-woo’s memory took on a strange, patchy quality whenever he was swept up in crowds—especially crowds like these, where hands jostled in and out of reach like whack-a-mole, voices were muffled beneath facemasks so he couldn’t lip-read, and posters and photocards kept catching his eye with their bent corners and one-sided tears—no, not the point. He could feel himself spiralling into irritation at every imperfection, but the chaos around him made it all splinter anyway. When he looks back, it never forms a full picture, just jagged, flashing fragments.

A small bundle in a black hoodie at his elbow, tugging roughly on a bag; the corner of his coat lifting in the wind and catching on the metal barrier; a clip on the bag snagging the decorative chain of his coat, and then a slow, fibrous rip; the cold rush sneaking in through the new gap. Each detail sharp, separated, refusing to blend into a single memory. He latches onto each piece, moments fractured by the noise and motion around him.

The black hoodie took off in a flash, like she was chasing a clock. She? Probably a she; small stature, a small shoe size and a whisper of dark brown hair slipping from the hood.

Jinwoo bent down, reaching to catch the piece of his ruined coat before it hit the floor, quickly now and … grabbed a fistful of polyester?

A security guard grasped his elbow as the screams around him turned high-pitched in a way that set his teeth on edge.

“Sir, to the van.” He felt a press on his back, ushering him towards the vehicle idling at the kerb. 

Jinwoo pressed the bundle of fabric into the guard’s chest and straightened up, rubbing the opposite elbow. “No. It’s fine. If we run off now, they’ll just make a bigger deal of it.”

He did what he was best at, flashed a winning smile, and carried on like the crowd around him didn’t sound halfway towards hyperventilating. Sign, thank you for your support, fighting! Thank you for your support, sign, sign, make a heart, sign, thank you for coming!

The van door slammed behind him with a practised glide and thud, sealing Jin-woo in a cocoon of tinted windows, warm air and soft leather. The distant noise of the crowd outside was cut off like a fader turned the entire world down a notch. It was just the hum of the engine, the rustle of movement beside him, and the sharp intake of breath from Manager Hyun.

“Are you hurt?” Hyun was already leaning over, tugging at the shredded hem of Jin-woo’s coat with a grimace. “This was Saint Laurent. I swear, their behaviour’s just been getting worse as of late—”

“I’m fine.” Jin-woo shifted slightly, letting his head rest against the seat, as though he was settling in for a nap. “Don’t make a fuss.”

“It’s not just about you, Jin-woo. We don’t want to start a precedent. What about when the others go out for solo events?” his right eye twitched slightly. So much for the botox helping.

“It’s not like that, I don’t think. She didn’t look like a fan. She looked like she was late to something. I thought she seemed annoyed, actually,” he said with a small laugh.

Manager Hyun sighed heavily, if such a sound could be called a sigh — more a tiger’s chuff than a sigh, like the reels Yul kept sending in the group chat.

A brief burst of noise came from behind Jin-woo as the security guard opened the opposite side door, sliding into his seat. “We’re good to go.”

An unintelligible grumbling came from Manager Hyun as he moved to sit directly behind the driver, leaning over the console slightly to check the destination, check his driver's license, his shoe size, check something that Jin-woo was glad took his attention away.

The van pulled away, swiftly blending into the Seoul traffic, wide lanes sprawling ahead of them like asphalt ribbons.

Jinwoo twisted in his seat to address the security guard. “Do you happen to have the—?” he let his sentence trail off, eager to appear casual and also not quite sure what it was he was asking for.

The security guard — broad, built like a wrestler and with forehead wrinkles practically the same shape and depth as a pool noodle — furrowed his brow and looked down at his lap with an expression that made Jinwoo wonder if he’d spoken English by mistake. He picked up the wrinkled navy blue bundle and offered it to Jinwoo. “This?”

“Yes, that’s it, thank you,” he said with a genial nod of his head. The guard waved a hand — no problem — and pulled out his phone, the device almost comically small in his meaty hands.

The jacket — so it was a jacket — was heavier than it looked, soft at the cuffs, and slightly threadbare at the elbows. Jinwoo turned it over, the Adidas logo on one breast, and a British flag stitched on the other next to lettering that read “British Figure Skating”.

A British athlete in Korea? Strange. Explains the accent he heard. Seems unlikely, but stranger things have happened. His eyes caught the label inside the collar, and he pulled the zipper down slightly: there, in black embroidery on a white name label, stitched like something from a school gym kit, was SARAH CHAE.

Korean surname. Interesting. 

An itch began to develop in Jinwoo’s brain. A British elite-level skater, Korean surname, running through a security line like a scalded cat on a September afternoon. 

Jinwoo pulled out his phone and googled:

+Ice skating rinks near me

-Mokdong Indoor Ice Rink

-Lotte World Ice Rink

-Korea University Ice Rink

According to the map, Mokdong was within walking distance, albeit not a short one. No wonder she was running. He smiled to himself, satisfied. So he was right: she had been late to something.

But why was a British skater in Seoul in the first place? He was pretty sure the skating season was either about to start or had already begun: there had been a stretch during his trainee years when half of SM Entertainment had crowded into the dance studio lounge to scream at the television during the Sochi Games. Someone—probably their then-leader—had tried to spin it into a team-building exercise. Mostly, it had ended in shouted bets and someone nearly knocking over the humidifier during Yuna Kim’s final skate.

Jinwoo glanced at Manager Hyun, who was deep in conversation on the phone, his fingers drumming a tattoo on the leather of the seats; da-dum, da-dum- da-da-da-da-da-dum, one, two three —

Jinwoo blinked and sniffed, shaking his head like he was trying to rattle something loose.

The next search he put into google was:

+Sarah Chae ice skater

- Meet Sarah Chae: Britain’s Ladies No1 — BBC Sport

- 사라 채, 유럽선수권 7위 기록…영국 피겨의 새 희망 (Sarah Chae finishes 7th at Europeans  — Yonhap News

• Watch: Skater Sarah Chae’s Shang-Chi Free Skate Is Our Fave Nerdy Programme of the Season”— YouTube (Channel: Skating & Performance)

He hovered over the thumbnail for a second. A still of her in an off-centre layback spin, eyes closed, arms like branches reaching for something unseen. He continued scrolling.

-Sarah Chae Withdraws from World Championships Following Hip Injury — ISU

-Heartbreak for British Skater as Injury Forces Early End to Season, Major Surgery to Follow — Eurosport

-[BLOG] What Happened to Sarah Chae?

He frowned. The tone shifted. The lighting in the thumbnails grew dimmer. A few photos of her in tracksuits, holding onto a coach's arm, and a couple of stock photos.

- British Skater Sarah Chae No Longer Backed by UK Sport Funding Body — BBC Sport

- Funding Cut Leaves Top British Skater ‘In Limbo’ Ahead of Olympic Cycle — Inside the Games

- Sarah Chae Quietly Removed from UK Figure Skating Roster After Injury Season — Eurosport

Then, the Google Top Stories banner refreshed and slid into view at the top of the page, its blue bar catching his eye.

Top Stories

-[LIVE] Korean Figure Skating National Team Press Conference | KBS Sports

-Song-hwa Chae Announced as Part of Korean National Team — Yonhap News

-[PHOTO] Team Korea Announced for Grand Prix Season — Highlights from This Morning’s Event — Dispatch

Now representing: Republic of Korea.

Huh. So that was it.

She hadn’t just been running to something important; she’d been running from a press conference. And she’d had her old British jacket while doing it?

He sat back in the seat, letting that settle. One corner of his mouth curled up.

“…Interesting.”