Jisung wasn’t even supposed to be at the rink this early. Morning hockey practices weren’t his thing—he valued his sleep too much—but he’d promised his coach he’d put in extra work, so here he was, bleary-eyed and yawning as he stepped onto the ice, stick in hand.

And that’s when he saw them.

A lone figure in the center of the rink, gliding effortlessly across the ice.

Jisung had been around skaters his whole life, but this was different. This wasn’t just skill; it was something else entirely—grace, control, an effortless command of movement. The way they spun, perfectly balanced on one blade, the way their features were as sharp yet graceful as the motion—it was mesmerizing.

Jisung stood there, half leaning on his stick, mouth slightly agape. He glanced at one of his teammates before looking back at the mysterious skater. “Who is that?”