Ripple of the Third Thread (Please like and review)

The air inside Jung Yongmin's Taekwondo studio pulsed with energy. The sharp slaps of fists and feet striking padded targets echoed through the room, each impact punctuated by the steady rhythm of controlled breaths.

Among the sea of trainees, Jihoon stood out—not for his skill, but for the sheer intensity he poured into every movement.

His stance was still unpolished, his form imperfect, but his focus was unwavering. There was a quiet resolve in the way he carried himself, a determination that refused to be ignored. 

For the past two hours, he had pushed himself beyond exhaustion, his muscles burning with effort.

His strikes lacked refinement, but each one was fueled by raw perseverance. Beads of sweat trailed down his skin, soaking into his singlet, yet he never hesitated, never allowed fatigue to slow him down.

He wasn't just practicing—he was fighting, not against an opponent, but against his own limitations, driving himself forward with relentless determination. 

From the sidelines, Jessica watched him, unable to look away.

She wasn't sure what it was that held her attention—curiosity, admiration, or something far more elusive.

Yes, he was undeniably attractive, but that wasn't what kept her eyes on him.

There was something else, something deeper.

A quiet power in the way he moved, an unshaken discipline that commanded respect without ever asking for it. Even as a beginner, he exuded a presence that set him apart. 

The fact that they had only crossed paths twice, including today, yet already, he occupied more space in her thoughts than she wanted to admit.

She knew almost nothing about him, had exchanged only a few brief words, yet she found herself drawn to him, compelled by an inexplicable pull. A part of her wanted to understand him, to uncover the layers beneath his quiet intensity. 

And in that moment, as she continued to watch him train, a thought settled deep within her—stubborn and unyielding. Whatever this was, it had already begun and somehow, she didn't know it wasn't going to go away.

As Jihoon completed his final set, his body finally stilled, muscles burning from the relentless training.

Sweat trailed down his sharp features, tracing along the curve of his jaw, but before he could wipe it away, a towel appeared in front of him.

He blinked, slightly caught off guard, before turning his head to see Jessica standing there.

Her expression was unreadable—calm, composed—but the way she held the towel out to him, the slight tilt of her head, made something about the moment feel... different.

"Jihoon, you can use this to wipe your sweat," she said, her voice steady, but laced with something quieter, something unspoken.

Jihoon took it, dabbing his face before flashing a small grin, he decided to tease her for a bit. "Thanks, Sica. Do you always hang around watching people train, or am I just special?"

Jessica scoffed, crossing her arms. "Please. Don't flatter yourself." But the pink creeping onto her cheeks betrayed her words.

Jihoon chuckled. "I'm just saying, if you're here every time I train, I might start thinking I have a fan."

Jessica rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward. "I just happened to be around. It's not like I planned to stay and watch you."

"Right," Jihoon said, slinging the towel over his shoulder, amusement dancing in his gaze. "So it's just a coincidence that every time I look over, you're staring at me?"

Jessica stiffened. "I was not staring."

Jihoon tilted his head, smirking. "You sure?"

Her grip on her shirt tightened slightly. Before he could say anything else, she snatched a water bottle from the bench and shoved it toward him. "Here. Since you clearly love attention, take this too."

Jihoon accepted it, laughing. "Now I'm really starting to think you just like taking care of me."

"Don't push it," she shot back, though the usual sharpness in her voice was absent.

Jihoon, still oblivious to the weight behind her actions, simply chuckled and kept the conversation going, unaware that yet another heart had begun to be drawn toward him.

Across the room, Jung Yongmin watched in silence.

A man in his forties, he had seen these moments before—the lingering glances, the unconscious way Jessica softened around Jihoon, the small yet telling gestures.

He recognized the signs of admiration, the quiet beginnings of something that, given time, could grow into something more.

But he didn't interfere.

He had been watching Jihoon closely since the young man first stepped into the studio.

His form was still rough, his stance unpolished, but his dedication was undeniable. There was something about the way Jihoon trained—relentless, disciplined, never cutting corners—that spoke to his character.

As an instructor, Jung Yongmin had a keen eye for reading a person's character through their movements—their dedication, their persistence, the hunger to improve.

And in Jihoon, he saw more than just a regular joe. He saw a man of unwavering resolve, of deep responsibility, of quiet yet undeniable strength.

That was enough for him.

If Jessica's admiration deepened, he wouldn't stand in the way. He trusted time to reveal the rest.

With that thought, he folded his arms and simply observed, allowing the moment to unfold as it was meant to. Because whatever happened next—wasn't up to him.

It was up to them.

As the conversation between Jihoon and Jessica carried on, a subtle shift in the air signaled the presence of Jung Yongmin.

The seasoned instructor approached them with an unreadable expression, his movements slow yet deliberate—a silent cue that their moment of playful banter was coming to an end.

Jessica immediately felt the weight of his presence.

She knew her father well—strict, disciplined, and unwavering in his expectations. Showing any sign of affection, no matter how small, was something she instinctively knew wouldn't sit well with him.

Panic flickered across her face for the briefest second before she quickly masked it, forcing herself back into the neutral, composed demeanor she always maintained in front of him.

Her posture straightened, her playful energy vanished, and her expression turned unreadable, as if the warmth from moments ago had never been there at all.

Jihoon, however, remained completely unaffected.

Unlike Jessica, he had nothing to hide, nothing to fear. His only intention had been to tease her, and her sudden shift in demeanor only made it more amusing. He wasn't oblivious to the tension, but it wasn't something that could shake him.

Jung Yongmin stopped beside them, his voice calm yet firm. "It's getting late. Why don't you stay for dinner before heading home?"

The offer seemed simple, almost casual, but Jessica knew her father well enough to sense there was more to it than just hospitality.

She couldn't help but overthink, wondering if this was his way of keeping a closer eye on things. What she didn't realize was that Jung Yongmin had no ulterior motives—he merely wanted to invite Jihoon over for a simple dinner.

Jihoon, however, responded without a moment of hesitation. "Thank you, Coach. I'd love to stay for dinner. I appreciate the invitation." There was no nervousness in his tone, no awkwardness—just his usual, easy confidence.

Jessica's heart skipped a beat at his answer. He was staying.

She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself not to react too obviously, but she couldn't deny the happiness bubbling inside her.

He was here. And for just a little while longer, she didn't have to say goodbye.

There was something about Jihoon's presence that unraveled her, something that felt so profoundly different from the world she was forced to navigate every day.

Everywhere else, she had to be calculated—every word measured, every movement deliberate, every expression carefully curated to fit the role expected of her.

As Jung Yongmin's daughter, she was expected to be perfect. As an upcoming idol, she was told to be poised, graceful, disciplined. No slip-ups. No outbursts. No room for vulnerability.

She had spent years mastering the art of control, wearing a poker face so seamlessly that sometimes she feared she had forgotten what it felt like to simply be herself.

The weight of it was suffocating. A silent, relentless pressure that never let up, never allowed her to exhale.

But with Jihoon?

With him, it was the opposite.

Being around him felt like peeling off the heavy mask she had worn for so long, like stepping out of a suffocating corset and finally being able to breathe.

It was like the moment she kicked off those stiff, pinching heels at the end of a grueling day and let her bare feet sink into the cool, soft earth, a kind of relief so pure that she tend to enjoy. 

She didn't have to censor herself.

Didn't have to analyze every glance, every word, every breath. With him, she wasn't an idol in training, wasn't the pristine daughter of a powerful man. She wasn't an image to be maintained or a brand to be perfected.

She was just Jessica.

And maybe—just maybe—this was why the Jessica from Jihoon's past life had been so relentless in her pursuit of success.

She had pursued success with relentless determination, pushing herself to the edge, sacrificing everything—even her own group members—just to secure her place at the top.

Raised to believe that ambition demanded sweat, hard work, and even friendship as its price, she had accepted it without question.

The nature of survival had ingrained since in her early days, thought her that this is the way of the world, perfection can be met with suffering, that greatness came at a cost.

But in the end… had it truly been worth it?

Had her so call victories, the fame, the carefully curated image ever filled the emptiness she dared not confront?

Or had she merely been chasing a hollow dream, mistaking the weight of her crown for fulfillment, only to find that all it brought was loneliness?

Now, in this life, everything was different.

Jihoon's presence had already disrupted the path she once walked in his past life—a path meticulously carved by fate itself.

He was an anomaly, an unpredictable force that had thrown ripples through the fabric of her existence.

Whether he had meant to or not, his intervention had set something new into motion, something that even fate could no longer control.

Would this lead her to something better—something she had unknowingly longed for all along? Or was she simply being led toward a fate even crueler than before.

No matter what, a third ball of woven threads had begun rolling along the path of the first two, intertwining with their fates.

Now, with three threads converging, the fabric of fate trembled, twisting and shifting as unseen forces pulled them together.

Waves of string rippled through the loops of the previous two, each strand intertwining with the others, tangling in a delicate yet inevitable dance of providence.

Their pattern grew ever more intricate—layers upon layers of uncertainty, a storm of choices and consequences colliding.

It was no longer a path that could be traced, no longer a future that could be foretold. Even destiny, once unwavering, stood at the edge, watching in silence—powerless to predict what lay ahead.

And what came next… only time would tell.

[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe and DaoistaLrAXA for bestowing the power stone!]