Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 86: Subtle Jealousy

If someone were to ask whether Ha Giyeon was good at sports, the answer would obviously be no. The only sport he was half-decent at was discus throw, and even with things like running or jump rope, he always got tired first.

After graduation, he ended up joining the military where he was forced to exercise, so his stamina improved somewhat. Then, working overnight shifts in a factory built his endurance even more.

At the time, his superior in the army always had one thing to say about him:

"You’ve got garbage stamina, but strangely, your athletic instincts are on point."

Ha Giyeon was freakishly good at shooting and tactical drills. Back then, he didn’t quite understand what it meant to have good athletic instincts—but now, he kind of got it.

Thwump!

Ha Giyeon lightly tapped the incoming volleyball with his hand, sending it clean over into the opponent’s court. The ball dropped to the ground untouched. The game ended the moment it hit.

“Holy crap, tour attack!”

“Aaah! Ha Giyeon-unnn!”

“Giyeon-ie hyuuung!”

With a six-point lead—a pretty wide gap—Ha Giyeon’s class made it to the finals. As soon as he secured the win, his classmates ran over and hugged him.

“Wait, why are you so good at volleyball? Did you play before?”

“Wow, the beat, the rhythm, the soul—it’s all there. You really flipped the stage, man...”

Hearing the wave of compliments, Ha Giyeon blushed and smiled. At first, he hadn’t even known the rules of volleyball, but instead of forcing himself to memorize them, he had watched a volleyball anime. It was the same anime the kids had been buzzing about the moment volleyball came up, and thanks to that, he could naturally join their conversations.

The motivation to move doesn’t have to be anything grand. If you enjoy something as simple as watching anime, that’s enough reason. Ha Giyeon, who had once thought he must not inconvenience anyone, was now genuinely enjoying the game.

“Ha Giyeon carried us all!”

“No way. We won because our teamwork was great.”

Worried his teammates might feel left out, Ha Giyeon corrected them. Everyone blinked wide-eyed and stared at him. Startled by the intense stares, he blinked back. Did I say something wrong...?

The vice class president, who had been staring at him fixedly, let out a breath of admiration.

“Wow... This guy... is seriously a good person...”

“He’s like the protagonist of a shounen manga...”

“I’m moved, Giyeon-ah...”

Surrounded by teammates who embraced him in a big circle, Ha Giyeon stiffened up completely. Watching him get hugged like that without understanding why were a few people whose expressions hardened.

‘What a damn spectacle.’

One of them was Nam Taekyung, who looked on with visible disgust.

“Gross, those bastards...”

Another was Ha Dohoon, who looked like he was about to charge in at any moment. frёeωebɳovel.com

“......”

And another was Son Suhyeon, who stared at the scene expressionlessly. The smile ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ he had been wearing vanished the moment people started hugging Ha Giyeon from every direction. At the same time, he questioned himself.

‘Why am I suddenly feeling like this...?’

He didn’t know if it was because he wanted to peel those people off Ha Giyeon. Suhyeon turned away toward the court, doing his best to ignore the squirming impulse.

“Have they all lost their damn minds or what...”

And then there was another. Choi Mujin, who gritted out a curse while holding a basketball. Watching people throw their arms around Ha Giyeon’s shoulder, mess up his hair, and slap high fives—it irritated him so much it was disgusting. He wanted to go beat those guys up and drag Ha Giyeon away. He could do it if he put his mind to it.

But the reason he couldn’t do anything and had to bottle it up instead... wasn’t just because Ha Giyeon had asked him not to talk to him like they knew each other. It was because Giyeon was smiling, like he was really having fun.

With the corners of his red lips gently curled up, that smile looked prettier than any expression Choi Mujin had ever seen on him before.

‘The hell... Am I going crazy, thinking that’s pretty?’

Choi Mujin shook his head and tried to focus on the upcoming match. After the second-year volleyball game, the third-year basketball game would begin. Ha Giyeon was watching him, and for some reason, that made him not want to lose.

‘Hyung, you’re so cool! Show me again!’

Whenever he played basketball or soccer, Ha Giyeon had always been the one sitting quietly off to the side, shouting himself hoarse cheering for him. He thought maybe—if he scored a goal today and pulled off a clean, overwhelming victory—he’d see those sparkling eyes again, just like when they were kids.

Recalling those long-gone memories, Choi Mujin faced his opponent. Among the players of roughly the same height, he stood out. At 187 centimeters, he was tall enough to pass for a basketball player.

But there was one person taller than him.

‘Was someone like that always around?’

The guy was a few centimeters taller than him and had a strikingly handsome face. If someone like that had been around, there’s no way he wouldn’t have noticed. Was this guy just dressed up for the sports festival? Assuming he was just some lanky dude, Choi Mujin didn’t pay him much attention.

No matter how tall the guy was, Choi Mujin had been playing basketball since he was a kid and still practiced regularly. He figured there was no one on this court better than him. That arrogance, so ingrained it had become second nature, didn’t change even as the game began—

—Not until Son Suhyeon blocked his path.

Thwack!

“You’ve gotta be fuc—”

Suhyeon brushed past Choi Mujin easily and shot toward the hoop. Mujin spun around too late—by the time he turned, the ball had already left Suhyeon’s hand.

Swoosh. The ball sliced cleanly through the net and added a point to Suhyeon’s class.

Choi Mujin stared at the scoreboard and swore under his breath.

‘I thought he was just some tall freak...’

That solid body didn’t lose in physical contact, and once he got the ball, there was no stealing it back. And every single shot he took went in. That alone was enough to piss him off.

‘Who the hell is this guy...’

Since he’d only played basketball in the previous year’s sports festival, Choi Mujin had never gone up against someone like this before. Was he training to go pro or something?

Thump. Thwack.

“......”

Dribbling with one hand, Suhyeon stared calmly at Choi Mujin, who stood in front of him, dripping sweat and gritting his teeth in frustration. His rage didn’t look like it came from losing the ball—it was more like he was pissed off from embarrassment. Though he was better than most, Mujin was all style and no substance. His flashy moves were unrefined, and he didn’t pass the ball around. Since everything centered on him, it was easy to intercept.

Where Mujin played selfishly, Suhyeon demonstrated textbook team play. He passed, blocked, intercepted—used every teammate effectively to score with subtlety and precision.

To be honest, Suhyeon wasn’t particularly interested in basketball. During his leave of absence, he’d worked part-time at a kids’ basketball clinic and picked it up from a player there. He only learned enough to teach children—but for the first time, he was glad he did.

Just like he hated Ha Dohoon, Suhyeon also hated Choi Mujin. It didn’t show, but there was a hint of venting in how he stole the ball from him. The reason was simple—Mujin had made Ha Giyeon suffer.

He couldn’t brawl with Mujin. There was no guarantee he’d win in a fistfight, and Mujin had money to clean up after himself. So Suhyeon chose the only violence he could get away with—playing dirty on the court.

Suhyeon feinted slightly as Mujin blocked him hard. As Mujin hesitated for a second, Suhyeon slipped the ball between his legs to a teammate.

Swoosh. The teammate took the ball and launched it at the hoop, scoring again. Mujin wiped his sweat and glared daggers at Suhyeon.

“Your play style’s fucking annoying.”

“I’m not that good solo.”

Unfazed, Suhyeon replied calmly and caught the pass, then immediately shot the ball at the hoop. It arced in a clean parabola and dropped straight through the net—right as the buzzer announced the end of the match.

“Third-year Class 8 wins!”

“YEEEESSSSS!”

“Holy shit, who is that guy? He’s insane!”

Cheers erupted as Suhyeon’s classmates swarmed him with praise. Among the voices surrounding him, one stood out loud and clear.

“Good work, hyung.”

A little distance away, Ha Giyeon was smiling and congratulating him. Not wanting to draw attention, neither of them stepped closer. They just smiled at each other, eyes meeting from afar.

‘What the...’

Watching this, Choi Mujin doubted his eyes. He had turned his head, thinking the words were meant for him—but Giyeon’s gaze was locked on someone else from the winning team.

“You were amazing, hyung.”

Smiling bashfully, waving his hand, Giyeon looked nothing like the boy from before. Mujin’s expression hardened. He’d thought he was the only one Giyeon cheered for with that kind of smile and sincerity.

He didn’t smile much these days, but the way he smiled now—it was the same one from back then.

Except now, the person he was cheering for wasn’t Choi Mujin.

Who the hell is that bastard he’s calling hyung... Mujin instinctively moved to approach Giyeon. But before he could, a teacher announced it was time to head to the field, and he lost sight of Giyeon in the crowd.

“Who the hell did he call hyung...”

And it wasn’t just Mujin watching.

Ha Dohoon had seen it all, too. His gaze locked onto the students in Suhyeon’s class. His eyes zeroed in on the basketball team with a chilling focus.

Though he hadn’t played in the game, Ha Dohoon approached one of his class’s players.

“Hey. Switch with me.”