The familiar scent of polished wood and faint resin hit Ji-hye the moment she stepped into the training hall, that distinct mixture of gym varnish and ball grip that always made her think of early mornings and long rallies. The echoes of squeaking soles and the low thump of balls bouncing somewhere in the distance were a kind of music she'd grown up with.
"Morning, Ji-hye!" one teammate called from across the court. Another waved while stretching against the wall, her hair still damp from a quick shower.
Ji-hye returned the greetings with a bright smile and a small wave, her sports bag slung casually over her shoulder. She fell into step beside a small group heading toward the changing room—three juniors chatting animatedly about last night's match highlights on TV, and the captain, who was already in mid-discussion about today's planned drills.
