After his meeting with Gunjoo, Yohan headed straight to work.

He'd left Remi and Mia alone in the shop all day, so he decided to check on things — maybe grab them something to eat on the way.

'I should at least get them dinner…'

When he arrived, the bell chimed softly.

"Boss, you're here!" Remi ran and wrapped her arms around him like an excited child.

Mia stood up from behind the counter, her face lighting up.

After a few cheerful exchanges, Yohan handed them the food. His eyes wandered to the TV, where the screen caught his attention.

"Hey, could you turn that up?"

Mia picked up the remote and raised the volume.

"For those just joining us," the announcer said reverently, "this is a moment no one thought would come again — the return of Yeri Lim to the National Classic. The former junior world champion has been on an unexplained hiatus…"

The camera zoomed in. There she was — Yeri Lim — in a navy leotard that shimmered faintly under the lights.

"Wait, isn't that the woman who came here the other day?" Mia blinked, flipping through the record book until she found the name.

"It really is her!" she gasped.

Remi's mouth dropped open. "You're kidding! I didn't know she was famous. I should've asked for her autograph!"

Yohan chuckled. "Remi, autographs are for people you actually admire, not just anyone you see on TV."

'But I also didn't know she was actually such a big deal…'

His gaze stayed fixed on the screen — her movements fluid and exact. She launched into a double flip, landed perfectly, and smiled with poise as the stadium roared.

And then — the doorbell chimed again.

Yohan looked up — and froze.

There she was. Yeri Lim, standing in the doorway in casual clothes, holding a handbag.

For a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks.

'What a coincidence…'

Remi and Mia turned, following his gaze.

Remi looked from the TV to Yeri, then back again — twice. "Haah?!"

"It's you!" she blurted.

Yeri smiled softly. "Hello."

Remi pointed, baffled. "You're on TV! How can you be here too?"

"It's not live," Yeri explained gently. "That was from the qualifiers yesterday."

Then her eyes shifted past them — locking onto Yohan.

"Could I have a word with you?" she asked

___

A few minutes later, they sat across from each other in a quiet café nearby.

Yohan spoke first. "I already know what you want to talk about."

"And I'm sure you also already know this but you shouldn't be participating in competitions so soon... Your muscles are becoming weaker again right?"

Yeri's eyes widened, caught off guard. "H-how did you—?"

He exhaled through his nose, "During our massage session I noticed that all your muscles have been strained to their limits. You must have been pushing yourself from a very young age… Your body's been screaming for rest, but you wouldn't let it."

Yeri's breath caught. The words pierced through her defenses.

"How can you know all that from a single massage?" she whispered, half in disbelief, half in awe.

"Your muscles fibres were locked and your blood flow was restricted. Normally this happens due to an injury on just a single muscle in the body but in your case you destroyed your entire body,"

Yeri couldn't believe what she was hearing, it was exactly what the doctors had told her after they ran different tests with their machines.

Her hunch was right, this guy was something else.

Yohan continued, "When something like that happens, the body would tighten and try to protect the affected muscles but that would trap lactic acid and cut off oxygen. It is attempting to protect your injured muscles but that is only makes it worse,"

"The doctor already told me all this" She said with a regretful smile, "that there's no way to reverse the effect…"

Then she raised her head, "...but I felt better after you massaged me, it was like a miracle!" hope flashing behind her eyes as she said.

Yohan shook his head. His tone was calm, but firm.

"It wasn't a miracle…"

"...Through slow, precise pressure I gradually released the muscle adhesions that had formed around the injured sites. I worked along the muscle's natural fiber direction, using a combination of deep tissue compression, trigger-point release, and myofascial manipulation to stimulate blood flow,"

Yeri was listening, but barely understanding.

"As circulation returned, fresh oxygen and nutrients flooded the areas, reducing inflammation and washing out the metabolic waste that had built up. This, combined with the relaxation of surrounding muscles, reset the nervous system's pain response, allowing your strained muscles to finally release,"

"In other words your body's been protecting those muscles all this time," Yohan explained, "I simply told your nervous system it's safe to let go, allowing natural recovery kick back in,"

"And that brings me back to why you can't be pushing yourself right now, your muscles have only just started healing. Participating in a national competition like this would disrupt the whole process. I'm sorry but as your massage therapist I'll strongly advise you to drop out,"

Yeri stared down at her cup. Her reflection trembled on the surface of the coffee as she replayed Yohan's words in her head.

"You're telling me to quit right when I just started competing again?" She said quietly

Yohan's expression softened, "I'm sorry but that is the only way you make a full recovery,"

She gave a faint, broken laugh. "You don't understand, Yohan."

Her voice trembled as she went on. "Do you know what happens when you dedicate your entire life to one thing? It becomes your reason for living,"

"When I was little, I wasn't like the others — not graceful, not gifted. But I had grit. I worked harder. Longer. I trained until my body screamed and my hands bled. And for a while… it paid off. I became someone."

Her eyes shimmered with tears. "Then it was all ripped away. All that pain, all that sacrifice — and in the end, it left me broken. I lost everything I'd built my life around…"

She looked at him, her voice cracking. "All I had left was hope. Hope that maybe, somehow, I could fix what was lost. That one day, a miracle would happen."

She leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper now.

"Yohan…"

"Please," she said, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "Be that miracle."

Yohan's breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them moved, the world outside fading to a blur of color and sound.

Her words lingered between them like a plea from the heart, raw and trembling, the sound of someone who'd run out of strength but not out of dreams.

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