Saturday mornings had become Jae-min's least favorite part of the week.
He set another ball onto the tee, narrowed one eye at it as though glaring might improve his chances, and adjusted his grip.
Behind him, Min-woo leaned comfortably against the divider separating the practice bays, sipping an iced coffee like he'd paid for front-row seats to a comedy show.
"You're holding it too tight."
Jae-min didn't look at him.
"I thought you said my grip was too loose ten minutes ago."
"I changed my mind."
"You can't just change your mind." Jae-min frowned.
"I absolutely can. I'm the coach."
Jae-min snorted. "You watched three golf videos before we came here. That doesn't make you a coach."
"It makes me more qualified than you."
Jae-min sighed through his nose, squared his shoulders, and swung.
Thunk.
The club dug into the mat, but the ball stayed exactly where it was. Min-woo pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I don't even know what to tell you anymore."
Jae-min dropped the club head onto the mat and stared at the little white ball sitting there as if it had personally offended him.
"I hate this sport."
"You hate every sport you're bad at." Min-woo laughed. Jae-min picked up another ball and balanced it carefully on the rubber tee.
"I'm only here because of you."
"No."
Min-woo pointed the straw of his drink at him.
"You're here because you decided revenge was a healthier coping mechanism than therapy."
"... You're becoming annoying."
"Becoming?"
Jae-min ignored him as he took a slow breath.
This time, he tried not to think—just swing.
The club sliced cleanly through the air. The ball shot sideways. It skipped across the neighboring practice bay before bouncing off a divider with a loud clack. Both of them watched it disappear.
Then, what followed was a long silence. Jae-min lowered the club.
"...I'm going home."
"You said that twenty minutes ago."
"I mean it this time."
"You also meant it nineteen minutes ago."
Jae-min dragged a hand down his face. His expression was a mixture of frustration and anger.
"I don't understand how people enjoy this."
Another sigh escaped Jae-min.
"You know what?" He reached for the bucket.
"I'm just going to hit all of them until one accidentally goes forward."
Min-woo laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. Before he could answer, his smile disappeared. His eyes shifted toward the parking lot beyond the practice range. A familiar black sedan rolled slowly through the entrance. Min-woo straightened.
"...Jae."
The joking tone was gone, and Jae-min heard it immediately, but he didn't turn around.
"What?"
Min-woo kept his eyes on the approaching car.
"... He's here."
Jae-min's fingers paused around another golf ball. For one brief second, neither of them moved. Then Min-woo handed him the coffee without another word.
"I'm hiding."
He slipped away between two practice bays, cut behind the clubhouse, and disappeared before the sedan had fully stopped.
Jae-min let out a slow breath.
Don't look.
That had always been part of the plan—never look first. He placed the ball on the tee, adjusted his grip, and tried to ignore the steady rhythm of footsteps somewhere behind him.
---
Jihan stepped onto the practice range with his clubs resting over one shoulder.
The morning air carried the familiar scent of freshly cut grass. Usually, by the time he arrived, the driving range had already settled into its quiet rhythm.
Today...
A golf ball bounced across the lane in front of him.
He looked up.
Several practice bays away, someone stood with a club hanging loosely in one hand, staring at the runaway ball with unmistakable disappointment.
Jihan recognized him almost immediately—Lee Jae-min. The university student from a few days ago.
He hadn't noticed Jihan.
Instead, he bent to collect another ball from the bucket, muttering something under his breath that the distance swallowed.
Another swing. Another miss.
Jae-min closed his eyes for a second.
His shoulders slumped just enough to betray his frustration before he straightened again and placed another ball onto the tee.
He could have left, but instead, he tried again.
Jihan found himself watching longer than he'd intended. There was something oddly earnest about it. No dramatic frustration. No throwing clubs. Just quiet determination wrapped in very obvious inexperience.
The next swing finally sent the ball forward. It rolled perhaps ten meters before stopping.
Jae-min stared after it.
"...Progress."
The word was so quiet that Jihan almost missed it.
The corner of his mouth lifted. Without realizing it, he changed direction.
---
Jae-min sensed someone stop beside the practice bay. Only then did he turn. His eyes widened just enough.
"...Mr. Kang."
"I hope I'm not interrupting."
Jae-min glanced toward the lonely golf ball sitting several meters away. A sheepish smile tugged briefly at his lips.
"I think the interruptions started before you got here."
Jihan followed his gaze. The range wasn't exactly covered in golf balls—just enough scattered in strange places to tell a story.
One sat near a flower bed, another rested beside the divider and a third...
Jihan looked twice.
"... Is that one on the roof?"
Jae-min rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'd appreciate it if we pretended not to see that."
A quiet laugh escaped Jihan.
"I'll try."
Jae-min looked at the club in his hands.
"I didn't think golf would be this difficult."
"It usually isn't."
"...That somehow makes it worse." Jae-min responded with a smile. Jihan stepped closer, his gaze settling on the way Jae-min held the club.
"May I?"
Jae-min looked down at his hands before nodding.
"Please."
"Keep holding it."
Jihan didn't take the club. Instead, he reached toward Jae-min's hands.
"Your right hand."
Jae-min loosened his grip instinctively.
"A little lower," Jihan said. "No... there."
His fingers barely brushed against Jae-min's wrist as he adjusted the position.
"You're fighting the club."
"I thought I was supposed to control it." Jae-min stared at Jihan's grip on it.
"You guide it." Jihan stepped around him. "The club does the work."
He lightly tapped the outside of Jae-min's shoe with the tip of his own.
"Move your foot."
Jae-min shifted.
"A little more. There. Relax your shoulders." Jihan voice came out calm.
"I am relaxed." Jae-min replied.
"You look like you're trying to negotiate with the ball."
They both laughed briefly before returning to the golf. Jihan stepped back.
"Now..." He pointed toward the ball. "Forget about hitting it."
Jae-min blinked. "I thought that was the point."
"The point is making a good swing."
"And the ball?"
"It gets in the way."
Jae-min looked unconvinced.
"Trust me."
There was no reason to—not really, but something in Jihan's voice made arguing feel unnecessary.
Jae-min nodded once. Then, he drew the club back. He didn't force or rush it. Just...swung.
Crack.
The sound was different.—much cleaner.
The ball lifted into the air in a gentle arc before landing far beyond every shot Jae-min had managed that morning.
Jae-min didn't move.
"...I actually hit it, and I barely used any strength."
Jihan folded his arms. "I told you."
A grin spread slowly across Jae-min's face. It was unplanned, brief, and entirely genuine.
For a moment, he looked less like someone trying to learn golf and more like a college student celebrating a small victory that probably meant more than it should.
Jihan found himself smiling back.
In that moment,his phone vibrated. He reached for his phone in his pocket and glanced at the screen. It was from his office, then he picked without hesitation.
"Yes." He listened quietly. "I'll be there."
A pause.
"No, don't move the meeting."
Another pause.
"I said I'll handle it."
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
"I'm sorry. I have to go."
Jae-min shook his head as Jihan picked up his golf bag.
Then, almost as an afterthought—
"Keep practicing."
Jae-min looked down at the club as a resigned smile crossed his face. "I'll... try."
Jihan shook his head.
"No. Practice."
For the first time that morning, Jae-min laughed properly.
"... Yes, sir."
Jihan nodded once before turning toward the parking lot without looking back.
---
Jae-min remained where he was until the black sedan disappeared through the gates.
Only then did Min-woo emerge from behind the clubhouse, cautiously peering around the corner first.
"He's gone?"
"Yeah."
Min-woo let out an exaggerated breath of relief. "I am already in love that job."
He wandered over, picked up one of the abandoned golf balls, and tossed it lightly from one hand to the other.
"Well?"
Jae-min rested the club against his shoulder.
"...I think he fell."
Min-woo studied him for a second before a satisfied smile spread across his face.
"I think so, too."
Silence settled comfortably between them. A golfer farther down the range sent another ball soaring into the bright morning sky. Min-woo watched it disappear before speaking again.
"So..."
He turned toward Jae-min.
"...what's next?"