OLP 2

Sports stars who achieve record-breaking results are given nicknames. The Ice Empress, the Skeleton Emperor. Mostly royalty or imperial family. On the other hand, Nam Jihoon sunbae’s nickname was Idol. In my opinion, that was entirely due to his looks.

White and cool. As if he would have been popular no matter what era he was born in. Even the scar on his left cheek could not hide sunbae’s handsomeness. ‘Actually, that scar makes him look even more unique.’ That was what my younger sister said every day.—Even though her own older brother is an athlete, she had no interest in me and only followed Nam Jihoon sunbae—

Fans liked sunbae’s uniquely intelligent image. Things like his eloquence, where he would answer any question reporters threw at him since his younger days without a hint of panic, or how he looked like he would not, but would diligently do anything without holding back. People who met sunbae said in unison that he would have done well as an entertainer, just like his nickname. There was definitely something about sunbae that made people take an interest in him and pour their love on him. To the point where it was understandable, even though he was prickly, ignored reporters when they asked strange questions, and openly treated anything below a gold medal as nothing.

The sunbae I experienced up close was truly a person who only knew sports. Even during the off-season, he consistently appeared on various broadcasts and in commercials, enjoying a celebrity-level popularity, yet there was no sign of him getting carried away. He did not even have the common dating rumors with a female celebrity or a sports announcer. It was not like he was dating anyone else either. He was a sincere person who thought only of skating from the moment he woke up until he went to sleep. Even though he was so handsome and sexy, I could not imagine sunbae meeting someone and dating. He seemed to have absolutely no interest in that area at all, to the point where I, a hoobae, felt sorry for daring to like him.

“Sunbae-nim, water…”

I approached sunbae, who did not even let out a single sigh right after finishing a grueling training session, and offered him a water bottle. The physical training conducted on the track after lunch was the time athletes found most difficult. While alternately performing five different short track skating motions under the blazing sun, only one thought came to mind. ‘I want to die.’ I endured it because you do not actually die just from thinking it…

My whole body was gritty with salt. The track was on the verge of turning into a swimming pool with the sweat we had shed. Sunbae must have been hot too, as his cheeks were flushed red. He, who had rolled up the sleeves of his sportswear to his shoulders and was wiping the sweat from his forehead with a towel, glanced at me as I held out the water bottle.

“Hyung.”

“Pardon?”

“Call me hyung.”

You’re the only one here who calls me sunbae, sunbae added as he snatched the water bottle from my hand. He was so strong that even though I held it lightly, the bottle made a crunching sound.

“It’s cold.”

“Yes…”

It was because I had picked the coldest water from the icebox. The semi-frozen water was so cold that sunbae’s hand, as he took it, felt unusually hot. Hot, sticky skin clung to the back of my hand for a moment before pulling away. In the sunlight pouring onto the track, I could clearly see the fine hair on sunbae’s shoulders and the glistening sweat on top of it. Brightly, so very brightly. I squinted.

“Thanks.”

Saying that, he squeezed my wrist once and let go. The heat from my skin transferred to sunbae’s palm. Under the brilliant summer sunlight that I could not raise my head to, two heated skins touched and separated, and soon came close to touch again.

Hot, and hot, and hot…

It felt like I could even see his body scent.

Sunbae drank water with one hand and with the other, he unfastened the sandbag from his waist and tossed it behind him. He drank half and poured the other half over his head. After finishing the entire 500-milliliter water bottle that way, he crushed the plastic bottle out of habit.

“So, you don’t like it?”

“Pardon?”

“Calling me hyung.”

“No… I like it.”

“Then that’s settled.”

And with that, he went over to the coach who was calling him.

The coach, who was from the same university as sunbae and was very proud of that fact, was holding a tablet PC and a pen. When sunbae stood next to him, a shadow formed over the coach’s head. A thick palm tilted the tablet screen toward sunbae. He earnestly explained something while showing the footage of sunbae’s movements he had just filmed. Sunbae also seriously listened to the coach’s words while jotting something down on his own smartphone. He did so even though, at sunbae’s level, there should not be any posture to correct or skating methods to change.

I stared at his focused side profile and then rubbed the back of my neck. I looked at the sandbag sunbae had left behind. It made a really heavy sound when it fell. Should I wear that too? As I was contemplating, a sudden impact hit the back of my head. I almost pitched forward. Startled, I turned around to see the head coach. He brandished his raised fist.

“What are you spacing out for? Lee Yeojun, you got time to spare?”

“No, sir.”

“If you’re lacking in skill, you have to compete with effort. No matter how much times have changed, the reality is that if you win a silver medal, you’ll hear people call it a disappointing silver medal. Especially in our sport. Do you think the public will put up with you slacking off just because you’re the ‘Accidental National Athlete’?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Get it together!”

Another fist flew at me. This time, it hit my temple. The side of my head flared with pain, and my head spun. I staggered and regained my balance. As if that was not enough, the head coach still gave the stumbling me a hard flick on the head. The sound of it echoed unusually loudly. Thwack. Everyone around had fallen silent at some point. The entire track was quiet. Seonho, whose eyes met mine from behind the head coach, mouthed, ‘Are you okay?’ I just nodded awkwardly and turned away. My face burned when I realized even Jihoon sunbae was looking this way. Should I just die…? Fortunately, the next training session started right away, so I was able to escape death.

A coach who ran to the equipment box brought back a bundle of yellow belts.

“Ugh. I hate this the most.”

Seonho muttered. It was the corner belt training, which was now familiar even to the general public as it had been mentioned a lot in various broadcasts and interviews.

It was no exaggeration to say that the rankings in short track are decided by cornering. How well one overcomes the centrifugal force that tries to fling them outward when turning a corner at high speed determines most of the outcome. The corner belt training was designed to endure that centrifugal force.

One end of the belt is tied to the coach’s body, and the other end to the athlete’s waist, and the athlete has to walk sideways in the lowest possible crouch. It was an especially important training for the tall Nam Jihoon sunbae. This is because the taller you are, the more likely you are to be flung outward when turning a corner.

The words of a former athlete and commentator who, when asked ‘Is it good to be tall for short track?’ had answered, ‘A moderate height is good. Like me,’ were not wrong. In our sport, being overly tall is a disadvantage. Sunbae was an athlete who covered for his tall height, which was disadvantageous for cornering, with his outstanding skills and performance. There were many suggestions for him to switch to long track since he was tall and had good stamina, but his results were so overwhelming that the coaching staff could not force him.

“Lee Yeojun, you go first. Seeing you spacing out, you must be confident.”

“Yessir…”

My face burned with embarrassment.

I tied the belt around my waist. On the other end stood Coach Park, the biggest of the coaching staff. Weighing close to one hundred kilograms, he was thirty-five kilograms heavier than me despite being of a similar height. With him not budging an inch, I took one step sideways, then two. After passing twenty steps, I stood up. And then I lowered my posture again and went for a hundred meters. It was a simple movement, but sweat poured down like rain. It felt like the thick rubber was digging into my waist. I had the same thought as before. I want to die…

“Endurance is what’s important, endurance!”

It’s hot.

“Short track is all about the thighs!”

It’s blinding. I want to drink a Coke. I want to wipe my neck with a wet towel. I want to sit down. I want to die… This is embarrassing.

“Stop! Next, Jihoon, come here.”

I crawled off the track. I fixed my gaze on sunbae, who was getting up with a blank expression, and opened a water bottle with one hand. It was lukewarm and only half full. Seonho came up next to me as I guzzled it down like it was the water of life. Seonho had been caught by the coach for grumbling about hating this the most earlier, so he had been the first to train over there and was taking a short break. Even though he had been crawling around just like me, he seemed to have enough energy left to be cheeky, snatching my water bottle as he spoke.

“You like Jihoon hyung, don’t you.”

“Huh?”

“You’re always staring at Jihoon hyung.”

Without giving me a chance to respond, he shouted to the right.

“Hyung! Lee Yeojun likes you!”

At those words, sunbae, who was just about to put the belt around his waist, turned to look this way.

“Lee Yeojun says he likes you, hyung. He says he’s a fan.”

Seonho pointed at me and giggled. His gaze and gestures toward sunbae were uninhibited. Unlike me, Seonho was a skilled athlete and had apparently trained with Nam Jihoon sunbae from time to time since he was in elementary school. He had also participated as part of the same Seoul Metropolitan City team in the last Winter Sports Festival and had been a national team prospect together. Although we went to the same university, I was the kid who barely scraped by, while Seonho was the kid who got in with flying colors. To someone like Seonho, sunbae was probably just a comfortable hyung he had watched and grown up with. But I’m not comfortable… Stuck between sunbae, whose thoughts I could not read, and the laughing Seonho, I was the only one who did not know what to do and just fidgeted.

Seeing my face turn red, Seonho exclaimed.

“Whoa. I think he really likes you. Hyung, are you going to accept his feelings?”

“That’s not it!”

Sunbae’s gaze, which had been on Seonho, landed on me. I became twice as flustered.

“No, I don’t mean I dislike you, sunbae… No, not sunbae, hyung.”

“Lee Yeojun, your face is really red.”

“…”

“It’s okay. It’s not a one-sided love. Jihoon hyung likes you too, you know? Hyung said you were pretty when he first saw you.”

“Huh?”

Really?

Without realizing it, I looked at sunbae. Sunbae had the belt around his waist and was looking down at me. Sunbae’s long eyes were staring intently at me, drenched in sweat, at my workout clothes that were soaked and clinging to me, and at Seonho who was lying with his head on my stomach. When I flinched because the feeling of his hair rubbing against my stomach tickled, his gaze deepened. Even in the blazing late summer sun, that gaze was not scattered but sharp. It was a murderous expression. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pressed together firmly.

It was not a face that could have possibly said anything even remotely close to ‘pretty.’

“When… was that?”

Sunbae did not answer.

“Stop teasing him. He’s going to cry.”

He just said that and got into position. From the start, his power was explosive. Even in a semi-crouched position, the force with which he pushed off sideways was enough to drag the coach, who weighed almost one hundred kilograms.

“Whoa, damn…”

Seonho, still with his head on my stomach, marveled. I honestly felt like grabbing even Seonho and grilling him about when sunbae had said such a thing, when, where, how, and why he had said it, but I held back. Instead, I watched sunbae train. Everyone was watching sunbae now anyway, so adding my gaze would not be noticeable.

“Isn’t he crazy good. His endurance is… just wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet hyung could even split a watermelon with his thighs. Have you ever split a watermelon?”

“No… I’ve only done apples.”

“I’ve done a peach.”

“Are you sure you split it? Didn’t you just crush it?”

“You wanna die?”

After finishing cycling and weightlifting, we moved back to the ice rink. The head coach, burning with passion to bring home more than five of the ten gold medals the Republic of Korea was aiming for in this Olympics, said that even walking time was a waste and made the athletes run with sandbags on.

“Don’t you think the head coach has read too many martial arts novels?”

Seonho grumbled, but I did not even have the energy to retort.

I want to die again… I muttered out of habit, even though I was not really going to die, as I tied my skate laces. I carelessly threw down my backpack with my gear inside, and sunbae sat down next to me. I was startled when our pinky fingers brushed at the moment he plopped down. Thud. Sunbae’s skate hit mine.

“Why did you get scolded by the head coach earlier?”

He asked in a low voice. So he did see. Embarrassed, I averted my eyes.

“Because I was goofing off.”

“Doing what.”

“I was looking at sunbae… at hyung.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Just… because I wanted to see you?”

“…”

“I’m sorry.”

Sunbae took hold of my pinky finger, which was curling up in embarrassment. After a brief pause, his pleasant voice followed. It was in his characteristic quiet, slow, and paradoxical tone that sounded affectionate yet uninterested.