At Seoul High, Hwang Hyunjin is the star soccer player everyone looks up to. He’s tall, calm, and composed—the kind of person whose cold voice carries weight without him even trying. His best friends, San and Wooyoung, orbit around him like gravity.

Kim Seungmin used to be the light of the volleyball team. Bubbly, mischievous, and full of life, he was the kind of troublemaker everyone adored. But ever since his breakup with Hyunjin, Seungmin has faded into someone unrecognizable. He eats alone, practices alone, and carries his heartbreak in silence. Watching Hyunjin with his new girlfriend, Park Minjae—who doesn’t even care about sports, school, or ambition—only deepens the wound.

Seungmin tells himself he shouldn’t be jealous, but every time he sees Hyunjin, he feels his chest tighten. He wants to move on, but the scars are too fresh.

One evening after practice, Hyunjin, San, and Wooyoung notice Seungmin on the volleyball court—alone, serving ball after ball into the echoing gym. And for a fleeting moment, Hyunjin’s calm mask falters.

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The late afternoon sun spilled gold across Seoul High’s soccer field, the air buzzing with the faint sound of sneakers scraping turf. Hyunjin’s chest rose and fell evenly as he jogged across the field, his dark hair damp against his forehead. He didn’t need to shout like the others; his presence alone steadied the team.

San tossed him the ball. “Practice match later?”

Hyunjin caught it easily, spinning it once in his hands before answering in his usual low, detached tone. “If Coach wants it.”

Wooyoung, sitting lazily on the bleachers, swung his legs. “You’re no fun, Hyunjin-ah. At least pretend to care.”

Hyunjin didn’t reply—just smirked faintly, which for him was as good as laughter.

It was San who noticed first. His gaze shifted past the soccer field toward the open doors of the gym. Inside, lit by a strip of fading sunlight, a single figure stood against the silence. Seungmin.

The sound carried faintly across the air—the sharp thwack of a volleyball meeting his palm, the hollow echo as it smacked against the wooden floor and bounced back into his grip. Over and over. No teammates. No laughter. Just Seungmin and the ball.

Hyunjin froze mid-step. For a second, his calm broke. He hadn’t seen Seungmin this close in weeks—his once bright smile gone, his movements sharper, emptier. The boy who used to fill rooms with chatter now looked like a ghost who couldn’t stop moving.

“Isn’t that Seungmin?” Wooyoung asked softly, tilting his head. “He’s… practicing alone?”

San’s jaw tightened. “He’s been like that for a while. Doesn’t talk to anyone. Not even his team.”

Hyunjin’s eyes lingered, his cold mask betraying nothing to his friends, though his chest ached in ways he wouldn’t admit. He swallowed hard, gaze following Seungmin as the boy served again—ball sailing across the net to no one.

Wooyoung pouts. “I feel… really bad.. it hurts my heart to see that poor boy practicing alone. Let’s go help him practice”