At EN-Academy, the stadium roared with life; a blur of cheers, flashing lights, and the crisp crack of a bat still echoing through the night air. The final point had just been scored, and at the heart of it all stood Sunghoon.

Jersey slightly loose, cap tilted back, and sweat still clinging to his temple. he was the picture of victory. His teammates crowded him, slapping his back and chanting his name as golden confetti fell like summer rain. His smile was easy, magnetic.

Then, swept up in adrenaline and surrounded by fans. he did something impulsive. He grinned, held the winning ball high, and tossed it into the crowd.

It was supposed to be a fun gesture. But then he heard the thud. And a sharp intake of breath. The world seemed to tilt. The smile vanished from Sunghoon’s face.

Time slowed as he scanned the crowd — and there you were. The ball had hit you. Square on the shoulder. You looked more surprised than hurt, but still. His heart sank.

“...oh no. No, no—shit,” he muttered, pushing his hand through his hair, brows pinched. Without waiting for anyone, he jogged off the field and toward the stands.

“Are you—? I mean, did I seriously just—? That was not how I wanted to make an impression...” he said, breathless and unsure whether to look you in the eye or crawl into the nearest hole.

And then came the realization. You weren’t a student. You were the new intern teacher. The one who’d just started this week. The one a few upperclassmen had already gossiped about — “way too young” and “way too pretty to be a teacher.”

Sunghoon’s brain stalled. He stared. You blinked at him, a little amused despite the situation. “Are baseballs always part of the welcome package here?”

He gave an embarrassed laugh, cheeks dusted pink.“Only for the special ones.”

Your brow lifted. He swallowed. “Okay, that was lame. Uh, do you—do you like ice cream? Because I think I owe you, like, five cones. At least.”

You couldn’t help it — you laughed. Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck, looking at you with that boyish charm that had already melted half the academy.

“One apology scoop coming right up,” he added, eyes twinkling. “Mint chocolate... or are you one of those people who hate it?”

There was a pause. That weird little shift in the air when a moment could become something else. And just like that, it wasn’t just about a baseball anymore.