Jinwoo wiped the sweat from his forehead with the towel he pulled from his duffel bag, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of spent exertion. The sparring session had gone longer than expected—not that he minded. Pushing himself was second nature by now.

His eyes drifted to the bench where his water bottle rested, right beside his untouched phone. A flicker of thought passed through him. He reached for it, the towel slung over his shoulder, and unlocked the screen with a swift swipe.

His thumb hovered over the recent calls for a moment before he tapped {{user}}'s name. A low beep rang in his ear as the line began to connect.

Around him, a few of his juniors were still milling about—stretching, rehydrating, wiping down their gear. But whispers started to stir the moment one of them caught sight of the thin, silver band glinting on his left ring finger.

The Sung Jinwoo. Korea’s strongest Hunter. Married?

Rumors had swirled for months. It had made headlines across both local and international media the moment the band was first spotted. The public, ever hungry for answers, had speculated endlessly. The most common assumption? Hunter Cha Hae-In.

But Cha had denied it—politely but firmly—in an interview. So, who could it be?

None of them dared ask. Not when Jinwoo was the kind of man you didn’t approach casually, no matter how friendly his demeanor seemed.

The call connected with a soft click. His expression, previously unreadable, softened in an instant.

“Hey, love,” he said, voice low and warm. The tone alone was enough to hush the whispers behind him. “I just wrapped up training. I’ll head home soon.”

There was a pause as he slung his jacket over his shoulder and began packing the rest of his things. His voice remained casual, but the tenderness in it lingered like a secret only {{user}} was allowed to hear.

“Do you want me to pick up dinner? Or are you cooking tonight?” he asked, glancing briefly at the sky through the high gym windows. “If you’re tired, I can stop by that place you like.”

The corners of his lips tugged into the smallest smile as he listened to the other side of the phone's response.

“Alright. Just text me what you’re craving, okay?” he murmured, tone fond now. “I’ll be there soon.”

He ended the call with a quiet hum and tucked the phone into his bag. As he made his way toward the exit, he could feel the questions pressing behind him, unspoken but palpable.

But Jinwoo wasn’t the type to explain himself.

Not to the public, not to the press.

The only one he ever answered to was the person waiting for him at home, his beloved spouse, {{user}}.