Chapter 78: The Game He Can No Longer Play

After that, Wooju’s momentum continued without stopping.

The opposing team responded with a powerful serve of their own.

Baek Yunkwon barely managed to receive it, but the ball flew long and rose dangerously close to the net.

It was a situation where the ball might even cross the net and give the opponent a perfect attack opportunity.

At that moment, Wooju—positioned in the front row—leapt into the air.

Stretching one arm out, he lightly tapped the ball to the right with a single-handed toss.

He had set the ball that was about to cross the net.

Choi Seokhyuk, positioned in the right front, immediately struck the tossed ball.

The ball flew straight toward a completely empty space in the opposing block and dropped neatly into the opponent’s court.

“Kang Wooju!”

Choi Seokhyun shouted loudly, smacking Wooju’s back repeatedly.

The place where Choi Seokhyun had hit was completely open in Yuseong’s blocking formation.

It was the perfect moment for a spiker’s attack to land.

Wooju continued to deceive the opposing blockers perfectly.

As the ball was set properly to the setter’s position, Wooju jumped up toward it.

Lee Yuseok jumped alongside him, and on the right side Choi Seokhyun prepared his approach.

Seeing Wooju’s posture, Yuseong’s middle blocker predicted an attack from the center or the right and jumped toward them.

But the ball Wooju actually sent went to the spiker in the back row.

The outside hitter of Baekyoung Construction smashed the ball from the back with a perfect back attack.

Since the blockers had jumped in the wrong direction, the ball slammed down onto the court without resistance.

Soon Baekyoung began widening the score gap decisively.

Eventually Yuseong Fire & Marine called a timeout to stop the flow.

But even then, Baekyoung’s momentum showed no signs of slowing.

The second set ended quickly.

The teammates praised Wooju, each one hitting his back as they spoke.

“You’re flying out there today.”

Choi Seokhyun chuckled while looking at Wooju’s flushed face.

Wooju wiped his sweat and caught his breath with a satisfied expression.

Winning the second set so quickly meant he had moved a lot, yet strangely it felt like his stamina was increasing instead of decreasing.

Leaving behind Coach Kim’s warning not to get too overheated—words completely opposite from the first set timeout—Wooju prepared for the third set.

From the third set onward the match became fiercely competitive.

The opponent suddenly sent a quick attack to their center from an unexpected position.

Back-row outside hitter Yoon Seonghun managed a dig, but the ball struck his wrist and flew high toward the back.

Watching from the right side, Wooju calmly chased the ball.

Looking toward the player preparing on the left, he sent a long, fast toss from near the end line.

Baekyoung’s outside hitter leapt accurately from the difficult position and smashed the ball cleanly.

“Wow! That’s insane!”

Raw reactions poured from the audience.

People who didn’t know volleyball well usually cheered for the spikers who delivered the final attack and scored the point.

But anyone with even a little understanding could see what had really happened.

They could see how difficult it was for the setter to send that ball to such a precise spot.

Without the ball rising properly, attackers cannot score.

In volleyball, where everyone must fulfill their role to win, a setter’s skill can create countless dynamic and brilliant plays.

And those plays give the attackers confidence.

After all, they are scoring points from difficult sets.

Jitae’s gaze moved to the teammate who had just scored from Wooju’s toss.

That player—who had successfully executed both the earlier back attack and this one—was smiling confidently.

He had been the player who made several errors during the first set and struggled throughout the match.

But with this point, he had completely come back to life.

Jitae’s gaze returned to Wooju.

A setter who instills confidence in his spikers.

“……”

Kang Wooju looked dazzling.

And yet, strangely, that sight made Jitae feel sad.

Perhaps—just perhaps—if different choices had gathered together in the past, they might have created a different future.

In that future, he might have been running across that court beside Kang Wooju.

Maybe he would be watching those perfect sets from inside the court instead of outside it.

“Actor-nim, are you feeling okay?”

“Huh?”

“Ah, it’s just… your expression looked a little stiff.”

At the writer’s words, Jitae shook his head and said it was nothing.

His eyes returned to the court, but what he was following was not the present reality.

It was the future that might have been different, and the happy past that had not disappeared but could never return.

Back then, he had stood across the net from Kang Wooju, exchanging balls just like this.

Blocking, hitting, setting—

It almost felt like he could still feel the sweat from those days.

And the realization that he would never again feel that sensation in his life stabbed sharply into his chest.

Jitae unconsciously clenched his teeth.

The third set also went to Baekyoung.

And in the fourth set, there was no one who could stop the unstoppable Kang Wooju.

The final match point arrived.

Wooju reached out as if he were going to set the ball that had been passed to him.

While the opposing players focused on defending the side attackers, Wooju lightly pushed the ball forward instead.

His signature setter dump succeeded perfectly.

The match ended instantly.

Baekyoung’s home fans erupted in cheers.

Even though it was only a friendly match, the intensity of the game had swept the audience along with it.

The announcer loudly declared Baekyoung Construction’s victory.

After celebrating with his teammates, Wooju waved to the crowd and bowed.

Then the first person he looked toward was Jitae.

Jitae had stood up and was clapping with a smile.

For some reason, it looked like a slightly sad smile.

By the time the match was completely over, it had already grown dark outside.

Between the four sets and the fan events in between, the schedule had been quite packed.

“Won Jitae, I’m going to shower and come back.”

Wooju stood in front of Jitae after finishing an interview requested by the show’s writers.

By now Jitae was already carrying Wooju’s bag over his shoulder like it was natural.

“Okay.”

“The filming crew said they’re wrapping up and preparing to leave too. Do you want to wait in the car?”

The memory of Jitae’s earlier smile still bothered Wooju, so he studied his expression carefully.

“I’ll take care of it. Just message me when you’re done.”

“…Are you not feeling well?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

Which only made it feel more unnatural.

Wooju rubbed his sweat-soaked hair roughly.

“Sorry, but your face shows everything. What’s going on?”

“I’m really fine.”

“Won Jitae, don’t make people worry—”

“If I say it’s nothing.”

Jitae cut him off.

His voice was slightly sharp.

Wooju’s eyes widened.

“Can you just let it go?”

Wooju’s lips parted slightly.

A small crease formed between his brows as if he were choosing what to say.

“Alright.”

Without hesitation, Wooju turned toward the showers.

Jitae stared blankly as his figure slowly disappeared into the distance.

Only after he was completely alone did he finally release the breath he had been holding.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t even congratulated Wooju for winning.

He couldn’t even control his own mood and ended up acting irritated for no reason.

Jitae ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

The one who should have been most exhausted and irritable right now was Wooju.

The fact that Wooju had still tried to check on his feelings meant something.

And yet his own reaction had been pathetic.

Jitae leaned against the wall for a while, calming his emotions.

Then he stepped outside.

He planned to go to the car first, walking around the front entrance toward the parking lot behind the building.

Just then—

“Won Jitae.”

A voice came from the side.

Turning his head, he saw a man standing there with a sly smile.

“Long time no see.”

“Yoon Jaeyeon.”

Jitae recognized him and spoke quietly.

Still smiling, Jaeyeon slowly approached him.

“Oh right. Before anything else, can you give me an autograph? I want the autograph of a ten-million-viewer actor.”

Jitae looked indifferently at the paper held out toward him.

He reached out and took it without a word.

His hand holding the pen moved casually across the white page.

Meanwhile, Jaeyeon was openly scanning Jitae’s body—more precisely his upper body—with his eyes.

“Is one enough?”

Jitae handed the paper back and asked calmly.

As if he would sign as many as needed.

The complete lack of emotion in his behavior made the corner of Jaeyeon’s mouth twitch.

“Yeah, thanks. But you came here because of that variety show filming, right?”

“Yeah.”

Jaeyeon accepted the signed paper.

“When I saw you and Kang Wooju earlier, it suddenly reminded me of high school.”

“I’m sure it did.”

Jitae’s voice sounded weak.

It carried clear exhaustion and fatigue.

“You’re not happy to see me?”

“Ah…”

Jitae scratched his head.

He looked down at the ground for a moment, clearly unsure what to say.

Seeing that, Jaeyeon let out a snort that was closer to a sneer than a laugh.