Strategic Mating Partner Chapter 56

“…So annoying.”

Sejin bit his lip. There was no way there weren’t any weaknesses. Charging in the same way was pointless and futile. He needed to exploit Dongcheol’s risks. As soon as the whistle signaled the start of the third set, Sejin lowered his stance. Dongcheol, thrown off balance, changed his attack direction and thrust. Sejin, unfazed, parried Dongcheol’s blade. Instead of attacking immediately, he assumed a defensive stance and lunged forward.

Caught off guard and unable to find an opening, Dongcheol flinched and stepped back. Sejin didn’t miss the moment. His blade quickly aimed for Dongcheol’s chest, and a point was scored for Sejin. Only then did he start to grasp how to counter Dongcheol’s style.

“Just one more…”

But this time, Dongcheol wasn’t going to let him have it easily. After several clashes, a simultaneous hit was recorded. Dongcheol still led in points, but Sejin had no more room to retreat. No matter the experience gap, Sejin’s skill was several levels above. It wasn’t for nothing that French athletes singled him out as the one to watch, despite his low ranking due to limited competition appearances.

The final minute. The clock was ticking down quickly, and Sejin had caught up to 6:10. Checking the remaining time, he grew anxious. With only 30 seconds left and both fencers parrying and checking each other, could he close a gap of five or more points? He managed to climb to eight points without giving Dongcheol more chances to gloat, but with three seconds left, Dongcheol scored again. 8:11. Three seconds remained. Sejin let out a short breath, removed his mask, and conceded defeat.

“Argh!”

Confirming his victory, Dongcheol roared triumphantly with a smug grin. Sejin charged toward him and snapped.

“Let’s go again.”

But Dongcheol just teased him like a kid, taunting him. What was this situation? Sure, it was up to each person whether to rematch, but this level of childish provocation was absurd.

“Nah, why should I?”

“Ugh…”

As Sejin frowned, wondering what this was about, other male athletes from the opposite court came over and grabbed Dongcheol by the scruff of his neck.

“Hey, stop picking on the kid.”

The man who had introduced himself as the épée team captain approached with a slight frown, stepping in front of Dongcheol and speaking to Sejin reassuringly.

“This guy’s hobby is acting annoying to new athletes, so don’t take it too seriously. Catching up that much in three sets is already really impressive.”

“Hyung, what did I do? It was just a great match!”

Dongcheol grumbled as if wronged, but another retort came flying.

“You’re gonna blow all your tricks like that and get wiped out in the real match, how many times have I told you?”

“Well, I’m still doing above average, so no issues yet.”

“Ugh…”

The situation quickly turned into a group nagging session against Dongcheol, leaving Sejin standing there, bewildered and unable to make sense of it. Seoyoung, who had approached Sejin, explained in detail.

“Dongcheol sunbae is always super tough on athletes he faces for the first time. It’s a rare style, right?”

Then, while Sejin was still a bit dazed, she whispered in his ear.

“But after a few clashes, his patterns become obvious, so no need to worry.”

Her whisper, as if sharing a critical secret, left Sejin momentarily stunned again. This was so different from the atmosphere at the club where he’d trained for years. Were people always this informal? Was there no such thing as decorum? It was confusing. Whether Sejin was flustered or not, the first group training session ended just like that.

Exhausted—three times more than when he trained alone—Sejin wanted to head straight back to his place. But when someone mentioned it had been ages since the entire épée team gathered and declared that the team dinner was mandatory for all, he couldn’t escape. He wanted to refuse, saying he was tired and needed rest, but Taehyun’s last words came to mind, and he couldn’t slip away.

“These are people you’ll have to see every day until August anyway. Just try to go along with them a bit. They’ll figure out what kind of person you are and adjust to you too.”

Maybe. Sejin wasn’t sure. He still didn’t fully trust Taehyun’s words, but remembering how Taehyun had worried about him even until their last moments together after four weeks, he swallowed a sigh. Soon, Seoyoung urged him to hurry up, asking why he wasn’t coming.

After about two hours at the barbecue restaurant, Sejin returned to his place completely drained. It was nice that all eight athletes, including Sejin, had gathered for introductions, but the problem was that Sejin also had to introduce himself. With a curt expression, he said only, “I’m Joo Sejin.”

“No, no, not like that! Tell us more. Got a girlfriend? A foreigner? French? Bet you do!”

Dongcheol’s playful question was, of course, quickly shut down. Reluctantly, Sejin recited his competition history. As if to prove he hadn’t joined the national team as its youngest member for nothing, his record was impressive for an eighteen-year-old just starting his career. It was surprising he wasn’t better known in Korea.

That was natural, though, since Sejin had grown up in a completely separate environment, following a French athlete’s path. A coach who’d been training in France had once said, “There’s a Korean athlete here with terrifying talent,” and everyone could tell exactly who that was.

“Hey, Lee Dongcheol, you recorded today’s match, right? Keep it as a lifelong treasure. That’s probably your only win against him.”

“Hyung, why do you always underestimate me like that!”

Dongcheol protested vehemently, but everyone there was certain of it. Fencing matches, unless they went to overtime, were over in nine minutes. For someone facing Dongcheol for the first time with no prior information to catch up that quickly was unheard of. Though Sejin was the last to join the team, no one knew what results August would bring. With that sense of anticipation, the dinner wrapped up.

Finally released, Sejin was mentally exhausted and completely drained. He felt like he could fall asleep the moment he got to his place. But he should at least wash up. Dragging himself to shower, he noticed a message notification on his phone screen.

10:43 PM

How was today?

It was from Taehyun. Sejin, thinking this was better than nothing, opened the messaging app with a sigh.

It was exhausting

10:59 PM

As if Taehyun had been looking at his phone, a reply came right away.

10:59 PM

No one was picking on you, right?

Sejin tapped the keyboard and responded immediately.

No

11:00 PM

After a moment, another message arrived, and Sejin put his phone down.

11:00 PM

Good to hear. You must be tired, so sleep well

The phone screen was filled with apps Taehyun had installed when he visited Sejin’s place. He’d signed Sejin up for a messaging app, saying it was useful in Korea, and even showed him delivery apps, surprised that Sejin had survived without them.

“…”

Sejin turned the screen back on, looked at the traces Taehyun left, and then put the phone down listlessly. What kind of day did Taehyun have today? Did he ever wish they could go back to a week ago? The thought of enduring this loud, annoying atmosphere until summer felt daunting.

Couldn’t he just prepare alone? But since he’d already secured a spot in the team event, that was impossible. Unless something like the incident when he first joined the team happened again…

Maybe that would be better. As Sejin briefly considered it, Taehyun’s face flashed in his mind. A sudden fear crept up from deep within that Taehyun might be disappointed if it happened again.

But why did it matter? They were in different events, and they’d likely never cross paths again, so why… If he had to find a reason, it was that he didn’t want to see Taehyun’s disappointed face. It was strange. Even though Taehyun was no longer in front of him, it felt like he was still watching over him.