Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg-Chapter 253 - 254: Valeria

The fluorescent lights of the infirmary were too bright, making everything look washed out and sterile, as if pain and bruises belonged to someone else. Joon-ho lay on the narrow exam bed, shirt off, a cold pack pressed to his swelling cheek. His right arm throbbed with every beat of his heart—angry, purple bruises rising beneath the skin, but thankfully nothing broken. The medics murmured in Spanish and English as they cleaned the cuts on his jaw, taped his ribs, and ran gloved fingers over his battered arm.

He gritted his teeth and bore it, jaw clenched, sweat cooling in clammy patches across his chest. He hated hospitals. Hated being the one laid out, vulnerable, when he was used to patching up everyone else. In his head, the fight replayed in brutal flashes: knuckles slamming into his side, the burn of the brass, the crunch of bone and blood, his vision going white-hot, the panic when the ex’s voice ordered his men to break his arm. He shoved it all aside, breathing through the ache, waiting for the pain to settle into something manageable.

The door banged open so hard the frame shook.

Ji-hye crashed inside, eyes wide, breathless from sprinting. She skidded to a halt at the sight of him—shirtless, bandaged, bruised—and for a second her bravado fell away, replaced by something raw and desperate.

"Oppa! Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?" She rushed to his side, grabbing his uninjured hand, voice trembling despite her effort to play it cool.

Joon-ho managed a wry smile. "I’ve had worse days."

She smacked his shoulder, hard enough to sting. "Don’t joke! You look like shit." Her eyes darted to the swelling along his jaw, the ugly bruise on his arm. "Who did this? I heard security talking. They said you fought off a whole gang?"

He winced as the medic taped his ribs tighter. "More like I fought badly and got lucky."

She bit her lip, anger and worry battling across her face. "You’re not supposed to get in fights, oppa. You’re supposed to... I don’t know... ice people’s ankles, not end up like some K-drama hero." 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

A dry laugh escaped him, half a cough. "Yeah, well, turns out I’m not good at minding my own business."

The door opened again, quietly this time. Seo-rin stepped in, glancing from the medics to Joon-ho. She moved with careful composure, her expression almost bored—except for the way her eyes narrowed at the sight of his arm.

"So it’s true," she said. "You really do attract trouble." She stood at the foot of the bed, arms folded, gaze sharp as glass. "Are you going to need surgery, or just more excuses for being late to appointments?"

Joon-ho shook his head, grateful for her dry humor. "Just bandages. And ice. And probably a vacation."

Seo-rin’s lips twitched. "You’re lucky. Not everyone gets jumped by thugs and walks away." She caught Ji-hye’s eye, and some silent understanding passed between them—shared worry, a strange sisterhood of athletes circling their wounded protector.

Ji-hye softened, squeezing Joon-ho’s hand. "Seriously. What happened? Who were those guys?"

Before he could answer, a pair of security officers stepped inside, somber in their dark uniforms, one holding a notepad.

"Señor Kim?" the older one asked in Spanish-accented English. "We need a moment, please."

Joon-ho nodded, pulling the hospital sheet higher. The medics backed away. Ji-hye hovered, fierce and stubborn, but the security officer just gave her a tired, understanding look and let her stay.

The younger officer spoke as he wrote, "We have detained two of your attackers. The others escaped, but we are reviewing surveillance. Can you describe them? Do you know why you were targeted?"

Joon-ho hesitated, heart pounding. He glanced at Ji-hye, then at Seo-rin, then back at the officer. "They spoke Spanish fluently," he said. "They... didn’t like me being here, I guess. Maybe they thought I was easy prey."

The officer frowned. "You’re sure there’s no other reason?"

Joon-ho forced himself to look blank, helpless. "No. I’m just here for the Games."

The officer nodded, unconvinced. "If you remember anything, anything at all—contact us. Barcelona does not tolerate this. Not during the Olympics."

He gave Joon-ho a card, nodded, and left with his partner, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind.

As soon as the door closed, Ji-hye turned on him, voice low and urgent. "Is this because of Min-kyung unnie’s ex?"

He looked away, the lie heavy in his mouth. Seo-rin watched him, too sharp to be fooled.

Ji-hye’s voice cracked. "Oppa. Don’t lie."

He sighed, then nodded once. "Yeah. It’s him. He’s still here. He brought people."

Ji-hye cursed under her breath, eyes blazing. "We need to tell security—really tell them. They’ll throw his ass out. He’s not even supposed to be here."

Seo-rin’s jaw tightened. "He’s dangerous. I’ve heard about him. Madrid boys, right?" She glanced at Ji-hye, whose eyes widened.

Ji-hye shook her head, voice dropping. "You mean... the Madrid gang?"

Seo-rin nodded. "That’s what people call them. Rich kids who think Barcelona is a playground. Most keep to their own side, but this group—they make trouble everywhere."

Before anyone could answer, the door pushed open again, and a new presence filled the room—tall, broad-shouldered, hair tied back, a dark gold earring glinting at her left ear. She wore a Spanish women’s volleyball jacket, but everything about her was swagger and heat. Her walk was loose, predatory, more gang leader than athlete. A couple of bruises faded along her jaw, only making her look tougher.

Ji-hye’s face lit up. "Valeria!"

The woman grinned, then strolled right up to the bed, coolly surveying Joon-ho. "So. You’re the Korean causing all this noise in my city." Her Spanish accent was thick, the English sharp as a blade. She flicked a glance at Seo-rin, then at Ji-hye, then back at Joon-ho. "You got a punch, chico. But you’re on thin ice."

Joon-ho tried to sit up, winced, and settled for a small nod. "You must be the infamous Valeria."

She smirked, one brow raised. "Infamous, sure. Depends who you ask." She eyed Ji-hye with a hint of affection. "Your friend has a big mouth, by the way. Wouldn’t shut up about you until I agreed to come see."

Ji-hye flushed but didn’t back down. "He’s my boyfriend. And he got jumped by Madrid trash."

Valeria’s expression darkened, all humor vanishing. "Madrid boys." She spat the word. "Always playing king in my city." She hooked her thumb in her waistband, tilting her chin at Joon-ho. "You know why they jumped you?"

Joon-ho hesitated. "I have a guess. But... not sure it’s safe to say."

Valeria leaned in, gaze fierce. "You’re safe with me. Or as safe as anyone is. I don’t like those bastards either. They’re poison—buying cops, shaking down athletes, embarrassing all of us." She let that hang, then cocked her head. "But why a Korean physio? What’s your beef with Madrid?"

Ji-hye jumped in before Joon-ho could answer. "He helped a friend of ours—Min-kyung. Her ex is one of those Madrid assholes."

Valeria let out a low whistle. "That’s messy. He must really hate you." She studied Joon-ho, something calculating in her stare. "You got lucky, you know. They don’t always stop at broken bones."

Seo-rin spoke up, voice flat and clear. "Are they going to try again?"

Valeria shrugged, hands open. "If I say no, I’d be lying. But they won’t try while you’re under guard. Not while the Games are hot. They like shadows, not spotlights."

Ji-hye stepped forward, urgent. "You know how to stop them?"

Valeria grinned, flashing white teeth. "You’re in Barcelona now. You’re under my protection." She held up two fingers, a tattoo of a crowned wolf howling inked along the edge. "If they come back, they’ll have me to answer to. And trust me, chico, you don’t want to be their next example. But you really don’t want to be mine, either."

She winked, the weight of it half-threat, half-joke. "Keep your friends close, yeah? And if you need help, call me. I’ll show you how real Catalans handle business."

Ji-hye exhaled, relief and adrenaline in her voice. "Thank you, Valeria. Seriously."

Valeria rolled her eyes but squeezed Ji-hye’s shoulder before turning to Joon-ho. "Rest up, physio. You fight pretty good for a soft hand. Next time, use your feet more. And watch your back."

She strode out, door swinging shut behind her.

For a moment, silence held the room.

Seo-rin shook her head, a smile touching her lips. "You make interesting friends."

Joon-ho exhaled, pain and gratitude tangled together. "Remind me to never get on her bad side."

Ji-hye sat on the edge of his bed, hand resting on his. "You okay? Really?"

He met her eyes, letting the truth show—exhaustion, worry, the edge of fear. "I don’t know. It’s not over. But I’ll be careful. I promise."

She squeezed his hand, voice low. "You’re not alone, oppa. Not anymore."

The medics finished their final checks and left. Seo-rin patted his shoulder—just once, surprisingly gentle—before heading for the door herself. "Try not to make a habit of this."

He managed a weak grin. "No promises."

Alone now, Ji-hye lingered.

She watched him quietly, eyes shining with everything she couldn’t say.

"You did good," she whispered, just before slipping away.

He stared at the door after she left, the echo of her voice lingering in the hush of the infirmary. The world outside felt bigger and more dangerous, full of threats he couldn’t see or stop alone. But there was comfort, too, in the promise of protection, the strange family he’d gathered—athletes, fighters, even a Barcelona wolf princess.

As he closed his eyes and let exhaustion pull him under, Joon-ho resolved one thing:

Whatever came next, he wouldn’t let anyone face it alone. Not Min-kyung. Not Ji-hye. Not even himself.