The weekend finally arrived, but from the moment she woke up, Seorin spent more time staring at her phone than touching her breakfast.

The digital clock in the corner of her room changed numbers far too slowly. Every time she glanced at it, it felt as though the display hadn't moved nearly enough.

In the end, she left earlier than planned.

The morning air was still cold when she reached the bus stop. Her steps slowed the moment she spotted someone already sitting on the bench.

Kang Ara leaned back against the shelter seat, a large sports bag resting beside her feet. Her thin black jacket hung slightly open, dark hair tousled by the morning wind. One leg stretched loosely in front of her, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, calm and unhurried, as though she had nowhere particular she needed to be.

But the moment Seorin approached, Ara lifted her head.

The corner of her lips curved faintly.

Her gaze traveled slowly from Seorin's face down to the gray training pants hanging a little too loosely around her waist.

"I don't really exercise," Seorin said quickly before Ara could speak.

She tugged lightly at the hem of her oversized T-shirt.

"So this is all I have. Even these pants are borrowed from my mom."

She pointed at the pant legs that nearly covered her shoes.

"Looks weird, doesn't it?"

Ara tilted her head slightly and gave her another once-over.

"Kind of."

Seorin immediately turned to her.

"That sounded like an insult."

"Because it was. A little."

"I'm going home."

Ara laughed softly. The sound disappeared beneath the rumble of a bus approaching from the end of the street.

The doors opened with a short hiss.

Ara stood first, then held the automatic door with one hand until Seorin climbed aboard.

***

Thirty minutes later, the bus stopped in front of a massive glass building Seorin had never visited before.

SPORT CENTER was written in large letters across the front.

She followed Ara through the main entrance, her pace slowing as the familiar scent of rubber mats and gym flooring greeted her the moment the glass doors slid open.

The space inside was much larger than she'd expected.

Thick blue mats covered almost the entire floor. Extra mats were stacked neatly in one corner. Small trampolines lined the wall, while a spring floor stretched through the center of the room like a giant stage.

Along the right side, a wall-length mirror reflected bodies in constant motion—jumping, spinning, landing softly on padded surfaces.

A boy in the corner repeatedly attempted a back handspring.

Two girls sat in splits while chatting casually.

Seorin lingered in the doorway a few seconds too long.

Everyone inside moved like they belonged here.

Then she spotted two familiar figures.

Kim Minji stood in the middle of the mat, her hair tied high, arms folded across her chest. In front of her, Park Dongchul was bent stiffly forward, struggling to reach his toes.

"Straighten your knees."

Minji's voice was light, but it still sounded like an order.

Dongchul groaned without lifting his head.

"They are straight."

"You said that five seconds ago too."

He folded forward even more when Minji pressed down on his back.

"Ah—okay, okay. This is a human rights violation."

Seorin blinked.

She had never seen Dongchul like this before. The debate club president who could usually argue without taking a breath now sat folded over a mat with a look of pure suffering on his face.

On stage, Dongchul always had a comeback ready for anyone.

On a mat, with Minji pushing down on his back and misery written all over him, he looked like someone who had lost every argument he'd ever had.

Dongchul finally lifted his head.

And at that exact moment, his eyes met Seorin's.

His expression changed immediately. His brows lifted slightly before he stood and straightened his shirt.

Minji turned as well. Her smile widened instantly.

"Ah, you're finally here."

She slapped the mat in front of her.

"Good. Warm-ups are almost done."

Dongchul released a long breath like someone who had narrowly escaped execution.

Seorin stared at the enormous mat spread out before them.

"I told you I'd help."

Ara spoke casually, glancing at Seorin before turning toward Minji.

"Minji. Help me out."

She winked.

Minji smiled faintly.

"I know we're friends," she said. "But in here, I'm not your friend."

She straightened.

"I'm your coach."

Her tone changed instantly. It wasn't louder, but it was enough to make Dongchul pull his shoulders back at once.

"So get ready."

Dongchul leaned slightly toward Seorin.

"Trust me," he whispered. "Coach Minji is a completely different person."

"I heard that," Minji said without looking over.

Dongchul immediately fell silent.

Training began shortly afterward.

Minji's instructions became shorter. Hands were repositioned. Knees were pressed straight. Backs were pushed lower. Even her smile seemed to become part of the discipline.

From the corner of her eye, Seorin watched Ara warming up near a trampoline. Her movements were light, quick, familiar.

"Alright." Minji clapped once. "We'll start with the basics."

Beside her, Dongchul drew a long breath.

Seorin looked down at the blue mat beneath her feet. It was soft, clean, and somehow still looked deeply unfriendly.

Minji crouched down.

"Forward roll."

She demonstrated in one smooth motion—hands down, chin tucked, body rolling effortlessly before rising back to her feet without a sound.

"See?" she said. "Not hard."

Seorin wasn't convinced.

"Dongchul first."

Dongchul stared at the mat for several seconds before stepping forward like a man surrendering himself.

He placed his hands down, tucked his head, and rolled.

A little stiff, but successful.

Minji nodded.

"Not bad."

Relief immediately flooded Dongchul's face.

Then everyone's attention shifted to Seorin.

She stepped forward slowly.

The mat felt soft beneath her palms.

Okay.

Just roll.

She lowered her head and tried to push herself forward—

and two seconds later ended up sitting sideways with messy hair and absolutely no sense of direction.

Minji covered her mouth.

"That wasn't a roll."

Her shoulders began trembling.

"That was falling... artistically."

Dongchul instantly turned away, laughing soundlessly.

Heat rushed all the way to Seorin's ears.

"Try again." Minji's voice softened.

She crouched beside Seorin and adjusted her hands.

"Hands closer. Tuck your head."

Minji's fingers pressed lightly against the back of her neck.

"Yeah. Like that."

Seorin tried again.

This time her body actually rolled, and she managed to stand afterward.

Minji nodded in satisfaction.

"Better."

Seorin had barely finished fixing her hair when Minji said,

"Now backward rolls."

Dongchul immediately made a small noise of protest.

"Why does the backward one sound more dangerous?"

Minji didn't answer. She simply demonstrated the move flawlessly.

When Dongchul attempted it, his body stopped halfway.

He ended up upside down with his legs hanging in the air.

Minji stared at him for several seconds.

"I forgot to explain the pushing part."

Dongchul remained motionless.

"I'd like to stay here until practice is over."

A laugh escaped Seorin before she could stop it.

Dongchul immediately pointed at her from his inverted position.

"You laughed. I'm remembering that."

***

Practice continued.

Jumps.

Landings.

Basic movements that kept forcing Seorin's body to work in ways it wasn't used to.

Her loose shirt began sticking to her back. Her breathing grew shorter. The scent of mats and the faint dust of the gym mixed with the warm air surrounding them.

But little by little, her body began to find the rhythm.

"Good." Minji clapped once. "Now we move on to the fun stuff."

Seorin's stomach dropped slightly.

Minji lay down on the mat.

"Bridge."

With one smooth push, her body lifted into a perfect arch.

Stable.

Effortless.

Completely ridiculous.

Seorin stared a little too long.

"Who's first?" Minji asked brightly.

Dongchul immediately pointed at Seorin.

"Her."

"Why me?"

"You look more talented."

"At what?"

"Failing gracefully."

Minji immediately clapped her hands.

"Alright. Dongchul first."

"Traitor."

Dongchul tried.

His hips lifted slightly.

Then dropped again.

Minji folded her arms.

"That wasn't even a quarter of a bridge."

"I can hear my spine crying."

A small laugh escaped Seorin.

Then her turn arrived far too quickly.

She placed her hands on the mat and tried lifting herself.

The result wasn't much different.

Minji released a long sigh.

"Okay."

Footsteps approached from the side.

Ara stopped near Seorin's head and studied her position for a few moments.

"Your hips are too low."

Ara crouched down.

"Try again."

Then her hands settled on Seorin's waist.

The grip was firm.

Steady.

Seorin's body instantly tensed beneath the contact.

"Push."

As Seorin pushed upward, Ara lifted her hips higher.

Suddenly, the arch actually formed.

The moment she lifted into position, the world tipped upside down.

White lights hung above her vision in blurred circles, and beneath them, Ara's face appeared upside down far closer than it probably should have been.

"See?" Ara's voice remained calm. "You can do it."

Seorin's breath caught briefly.

"Now hold it."

Her arms started shaking.

But she stayed up.

"Come down."

Ara lowered her carefully until her back touched the mat again.

A long breath escaped her lungs.

Minji immediately applauded.

"Nice. My turn now."

She turned sweetly toward Dongchul.

Dongchul took a step back.

"Why do I suddenly feel like my life is in danger?"

Practice continued until Minji finally announced,

"Now let's try something harder."

Seorin immediately turned.

"Bridge from standing."

"Oh no," Dongchul muttered.

Ara moved behind Seorin.

Her hands settled on Seorin's waist again.

The same grip.

Strong.

"Lean back."

Seorin swallowed.

The mat suddenly looked impossibly far away.

"Just trust me."

Ara's voice was low and close behind her ear.

Seorin slowly let herself fall backward.

Ara continued supporting her waist so she wouldn't simply collapse.

The distance between them was too small.

The ends of Ara's hair brushed against her cheek several times as they moved.

"Don't look to the side," Ara said quietly. "Focus on your hands."

Unfortunately, that only made Seorin more aware of where she'd been looking.

Then suddenly their balance shifted.

"Ara—"

They fell together onto the mat.

The landing made a soft thump.

For the first few seconds, all Seorin could see were the gym lights swaying faintly overhead.

Then her focus lowered.

Ara was above her, one hand still braced near Seorin's shoulder. They were close enough that Ara's breath brushed the skin beneath her eyes, carrying traces of soap and the faint scent of sweat left behind by practice.

Their eyes met.

Neither moved.

Around them, shoes still scraped against the floor. Mats still thudded. Soft music still drifted from distant speakers. Yet all of it reached Seorin as though from very far away, as if the room had suddenly expanded without taking either of them with it.

"Ara..."

The name slipped from Seorin's lips before she realized it.

Ara blinked once, then quickly pushed herself up.

"Oh."

From the other side of the mat, Minji let out a long, meaningful sound.

"Wow."

Dongchul immediately burst out laughing.

"If that's how we're practicing, I want lessons like that too."

Minji smacked his arm without hesitation.

"You want to die?"

Ara extended a hand toward Seorin.

"Get up."

Seorin took it.

Ara's palm was still warm.

Her fingers tightened around Seorin's hand for a brief moment before letting go.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

The answer came too quickly.

Seorin immediately looked away and straightened her shirt.

"Now let's do it properly," Ara said.

And this time, when Seorin stepped back onto the mat, her fingers still hadn't completely steadied.

***

"Ten-minute break."

Minji dropped down onto the edge of a mat.

Seorin sat nearby and unscrewed her water bottle. Her breathing still hadn't fully settled.

The gym felt hotter now.

Without much thought, Minji unzipped her training jacket.

Underneath, she wore only a black sports bra.

Seorin immediately lowered her gaze to her water bottle.

A few people across the room glanced their way, but Minji didn't seem to care. She simply raised both arms to tie her hair again.

Beside her, Dongchul suddenly stiffened.

"Minji."

"Hm?"

"Put it back on."

He held her jacket up in front of her face.

Minji blinked.

"Why?"

"Everyone's looking."

Minji glanced around briefly, then laughed.

"Come on. I'm training."

"Still."

Ara spoke up from beside them.

"He's right."

Minji turned sharply.

"You too?"

Ara shrugged lazily, leaning back on her hands.

"I've been telling you that forever. Don't stand out so much."

"This is workout clothing."

"And it still draws attention."

Dongchul immediately pointed at Seorin.

"Look at her."

Seorin nearly choked on her water.

"Loose shirt. Long training pants. Nobody looks twice."

"Park Dongchul," Minji said softly.

Her voice was far too gentle to be safe.

Dongchul immediately leaned back.

"I'm just giving an example."

Minji laughed and slipped her jacket back on.

"You're comparing me to Seorin now?"

Dongchul shrugged.

"I'm just saying simple clothes are nice."

Ara added flatly,

"I've warned you plenty of times too."

Minji huffed.

"You two are so annoying."

"Because you're stubborn," Dongchul replied.

Minji threw a small towel directly at his face.

Their laughter blended with the gym's soft music and the sounds of mats from the other side of the room.

Seorin sat quietly at the edge of the mat.

Her oversized shirt clung damply to her back. The ends of her training pants were wrinkled above her shoes.

Across from her, Minji laughed while hitting Dongchul's arm. Ara answered without missing a beat, as if she'd already memorized the rhythm of their conversations before the sentences were even finished.

Seorin lowered her gaze and smoothed the pant leg bunched over her knee.

Their voices remained close.

Minji's laughter.

Dongchul's complaints.

Ara's easy replies.

Surrounded by their voices, Seorin felt strangely silent.

Then Ara laughed softly at something Minji said, and Seorin's grip tightened around the fabric in her hand.