The boxing gym smelled like sweat, leather, and the sharp bite of liniment. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a pale glow over scuffed floors and heavy bags swaying from their chains. It was the kind of place that felt like a second home to the people who trained there—and completely out of place for someone just here to drop off a kid.

Y/N stood near the entrance, arms crossed, watching Minho bounce on his toes by the ring. He was already chattering at Coach Kang, gloves on, hair sticking up in a way that made him look even younger than he was.

The words were directed at Y/N without the coach even looking up. She'd heard it before, more times than she could count. Minho snickered behind his glove, and a few of the younger boys started their warm-up laps around the gym.

Across the room, the heavy bag cracked with a sound like a gunshot.

Heeseung moved in a rhythm that looked almost effortless—shoulders rolling, feet shifting, fists snapping against the leather again and again. Sweat darkened the ends of his black hair, and the muscles in his back flexed under his shirt with every punch. He didn't pause when Coach Kang spoke. Didn't even glance toward the door.

But for a split second, his eyes lifted. Dark, steady, unreadable.

And then they lowered again, like he hadn't seen anything at all.

Minho tugged on Coach Kang's sleeve, pointing across the gym.

Y/N's phone buzzed in her pocket. Karina had sent another message—something about a café and a "very important development" that probably involved Ningning talking too loud in public. Y/N ignored it.

For now, there was only the thud of gloves, the echo of the speed bag, and the faint sense that someone kept looking her way just a second too long.