Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg-Chapter 237: Off Record

The clinic was silent but for the distant hum of the air conditioner, a soft midmorning glow settling through the blinds. Joon-ho poured hot water over the grounds, watching the steam curl as he waited for his coffee to bloom. The place felt emptier than usual—no knock of heels from Soo-jin, no sharp giggle from Su-bin down the hall, not even the low buzz of patient chatter. It was his official day off, the rarest thing in his calendar, but the quiet wasn’t lonely. It was comfortable. Mirae was sprawled in his chair, legs up on the desk, swinging one foot with a deliberately obnoxious lack of respect for his "Doctor" sign.

"You’ll leave marks," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

Mirae yawned, stretching like a cat. "I’m testing your stress levels, Dr. Kim. I heard stress ages you." She waggled her phone. "Or is that just what unholynuna says?"

He snorted, passing her a mug. "Unholynuna thinks I’m an alien. I saw the fan edit. Tentacles and everything."

Mirae beamed, scrolling through SNS. "You’ve gone viral for punching a guy, Joon-ho. Welcome to the club. I’m still not forgiving you for upstaging my last endorsement."

"Don’t start," he warned, smiling despite himself.

The mood was light—almost too light for the undercurrent of exhaustion in both of them. After the match, the attack, the media explosion, there’d barely been time to breathe. Now, days later, Ji-hye was home sleeping in, Soo-jin had disappeared with Su-bin ("God help her," Mirae smirked), and the world felt a little safer.

The buzzer rang, and Mirae swung her legs down, smoothing her hair with a flick. "That’ll be your cop fangirl."

Joon-ho rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of nervousness as he opened the door. Detective Kang Min-seo, dressed casual but with that unmistakable cop posture, stood on the threshold, one hand already raising a little paper bag.

"Peace offering—best croissants in Gangnam," Kang announced, waving the bag like a flag.

Mirae’s eyes sparkled. "Now you’re talking."

Joon-ho gestured her in, closing the door. "Morning, Detective. Coffee?" 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"If it’s not the sludge you gave me last time," Kang replied, deadpan. She dropped into a visitor chair, crossing her legs. Mirae took the bag with a flourish, peeking inside.

Joon-ho set mugs out, poured, and settled on the edge of his desk. "So, we’re not under arrest?"

Kang cracked a smile. "Not unless you’re planning to confess to anything other than making half my squad jealous."

Mirae snorted, biting into a pastry. "You should see the group chats. The memes are savage."

Kang grinned. "I have. ’Coffee Prince Hero’ is trending. I think my chief wants your autograph, Dr. Kim."

Joon-ho tried to hide his embarrassment in a sip of coffee. "Let’s keep it to business, please."

Kang flipped open her folder, the smile fading as she got down to it. "I wanted to update you both. Ji-hye’s ex-boyfriend has been formally charged—blackmail, conspiracy, attempted assault. His ties to the overseas ring are confirmed. He’s being held without bail. The DA is confident, especially with the new video evidence. His legal team tried for a plea, but it’s not looking good for him."

Joon-ho let out a breath, tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying leaking from his shoulders. "So it’s over?"

Kang raised a finger. "Not quite. Court date is set for next month. We’ll need Ji-hye’s official statement—full testimony. I know it’s a lot, but the judge will want her words on record, especially with the press breathing down our necks."

Mirae leaned in, face serious now. "She’ll do it. Just tell us what you need."

Kang nodded, jotting down a note. "I’ll have an officer coordinate. If you want, we can arrange it here, or at your agency—whatever feels safest. We’re prioritizing her comfort."

"Thank you," Joon-ho said quietly. "She’s ready. I think getting it over with will help."

Kang checked off another box, then shut the folder, her shoulders easing. "That’s most of the official stuff. I wanted to give you the courtesy of a heads-up before the news breaks. You might want to stay off SNS for a few days."

Mirae shrugged. "You get used to it. The key is to own the narrative. At least now the trolls have something new to fight over."

Kang’s eyes twinkled. "About that." She set the folder aside, resting her chin on her hand, posture suddenly more relaxed. "Off the record—how accurate are the rumors? You and Ji-hye. You and Mirae. The Coffee Prince saga. My entire precinct is split into factions."

Mirae grinned, nudging Joon-ho with her foot. "Go on, doc. Enlighten us."

Joon-ho sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It’s...complicated."

"That’s not a denial," Kang teased.

Mirae laughed. "You should see the fan theories. My favorite is the one where Ji-hye and I run off together and leave him crying."

Kang snorted. "That’s the one my sergeant bets on. Personally, I’m rooting for Team ’Everyone Gets Along.’"

Joon-ho glanced at Mirae, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. "We’re figuring it out. It’s unconventional, but... nobody’s complaining. Except maybe the fans."

Mirae raised her mug in salute. "They’ll live."

Kang shook her head, laughing. "I’ll keep rooting for you. But you might want to lay low. The forums are wild."

The mood lingered—playful but with an undercurrent of genuine camaraderie. Kang finished her coffee, packed up, and stood. "I’ll be in touch about the testimony. And if you ever want to trade drama stories, my DMs are open."

Joon-ho grinned. "Thanks, Detective."

She paused at the door. "And seriously—good luck with the Olympic trials. I hear Team Korea could use a little Coffee Prince magic."

After she left, Mirae let out a long breath, slumping back. "She’s got a point. You’re basically the city’s most eligible scandal magnet."

He rolled his eyes. "And you love it."

She winked. "Maybe I do."

They passed the rest of the afternoon in lazy comfort, Mirae stretched across the sofa scrolling SNS, Joon-ho catching up on paperwork he’d ignored for weeks. He listened to her snicker at memes, watched her throw shade at the latest scandal, and felt, for a rare moment, that life might just be settling.

Evening found them at a cozy family restaurant—private room reserved, candles flickering. The whole crew gathered, voices echoing off dark wood panels. Ji-hye slid in beside Joon-ho, her cheeks flushed from a day of rest and relentless messages from fans. Mirae arrived next, plopping down on his other side, and was quickly joined by Harin—bright, a little chaotic, still riding the high of victory. Yura came last, her presence a wave of calm, eyes warm as she took the seat across from Ji-hye.

The food arrived—grilled pork, kimchi, bowls of steaming soup. Harin raised a glass first, her grin infectious. "To Ji-hye, our golden girl! You killed it!"

Ji-hye blushed, ducking her head, but Mirae wouldn’t let her off easy. "To Ji-hye—and to our hero coach, Dr. Kim. May his fists stay as fast as his mouth."

Joon-ho groaned, but laughter drowned out his protest. Harin piled rice into everyone’s bowls, Yura reaching to touch Ji-hye’s arm, her voice gentle. "We’re all so proud of you. You didn’t just win—you survived."

Ji-hye’s smile faltered, just for a second, as the memory flickered—knife, shouts, chaos. Joon-ho squeezed her knee under the table, grounding her.

"I couldn’t have done it without you all," Ji-hye said, voice barely above a whisper. "I...I almost gave up."

Mirae leaned in, nudging her. "But you didn’t. That’s what matters."

Harin made a face, raising her glass again. "And to the Olympics. May our drama queen become an international star."

Ji-hye rolled her eyes, but a slow grin spread across her face. "If I make it, it’s because you all bullied me into it."

They laughed, the tension easing. Plates emptied, more soju poured. The conversation drifted—Olympic training, viral memes, even which hair color would get Ji-hye more followers. Mirae and Harin squabbled over who would "borrow" Joon-ho next for their own events. Yura, content to watch, sipped her tea and smiled.

Midway through dessert, Mirae poked Yura in the side. "So, mother-to-be, how’s the coffee princelet?"

Yura’s cheeks flushed. She glanced at Joon-ho, who nearly choked on his soup. "Everything’s fine. The doctor says the baby is healthy."

Harin whooped, clapping. "A prince or a princess?"

Yura shook her head. "Too early to know. But I think Joon-ho is hoping for twins."

He sputtered. "One at a time is fine, thank you."

Mirae grinned wickedly. "With your track record, don’t be surprised if it’s triplets."

The laughter came easy—wild, full of relief. For the first time in weeks, the world felt manageable. Ji-hye leaned against Joon-ho’s shoulder, voice low. "Thank you for everything. I don’t say it enough."

He covered her hand with his. "You don’t have to. Just being here is enough."

Mirae reached across to tweak his ear. "Sappy."

He grinned, unapologetic. "Deal with it."

Yura joined in, fingers lacing with his under the table. Harin pretended to gag. "Enough, you’re making me sick. Pass the kimchi."

Later, as the night deepened and the dishes were cleared, they lingered in the glow of the little restaurant. Harin argued over the bill, Mirae tried to organize a group selfie with only moderate success, and Ji-hye wiped her eyes, equal parts laughter and tears.

Stepping out into the cool night, Joon-ho lingered, arms draped over both Mirae and Ji-hye’s shoulders, Yura and Harin walking ahead. For a moment, the world was just theirs—scandal, fame, pain and all. The future was a question mark, Olympic rings looming, a new baby on the way, headlines waiting to be written.

But tonight, the air was full of promise and the warmth of chosen family.

Ji-hye hugged him tight before they parted, whispering, "Don’t let go."

He didn’t plan to—not tonight, not ever.

They watched the lights of the city flicker and fade, hands tangled together, ready for whatever storm came next.