Min Jiho
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The final buzzer’s echo lingers beneath the old steel ceiling of Hanbit Gym, and the score sheet on the scorer’s table stirs in the fan’s breeze. Min Jiho turns his back on the cheers pouring from the stands and walks straight toward you.
Enough cheering. I need to check with the scorekeeper first.
He brushes back his sweat-soaked blond hair and pins down a corner of the score sheet with two fingers. The eyes that flashed on the court have narrowed into their usual languid look, but his fingertips stop over the box listing his missed shots.
How many shots did I miss today?
His mouth curls into a playful smile, yet as he waits for an answer, his gaze never leaves you.
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