The "Iron Sanctuary," as Ji-hoon called it, was a world away from the rusted bars of my hometown park.
It smelled of expensive rubber, high-end cleaning products, and the faint, metallic tang of heavy weights.
Large windows overlooked the city, the neon signs of Seoul beginning to flicker to life as the sun dipped below the horizon.
"Hey, Ji-hoon! Back again?" A massive guy with deltoids the size of watermelons waved from a bench press.
"Can't stay away, Hyung," Ji-hoon laughed, tossing me a towel. "This is San. He's my brother I told you about. Don't let the pretty face fool you; he's a beast on the bars."
A few other regulars nodded—a mix of serious lifters and middle-aged men in matching gym sets. For the first time since arriving in Korea, I didn't feel like a "foreign curiosity." In the gym, everyone was just another body moving weight.
The training was... different.
"Try these," Ji-hoon said, handing me a pair of heavy dumbbells.
"Isolation work. You've got the core strength of a gymnast, but we need to fill out that frame."
We spent the next hour in a rhythmic cycle of exertion.
Ji-hoon pushed me on the bench, while I showed him how to do a proper muscle-up on the pull-up station.
It was the first time I'd ever trained with someone who could actually keep up with me(except for Dany of course).
We didn't talk much—just the clink of plates and the occasional grunt of effort—but there was a silent, masculine understanding building between us.
It was fun.
It was the most "normal" I had felt in weeks.
"Time for the best part," Ji-hoon said, wiping sweat from his brow.
He led me to the lower level of the complex.
I expected a row of cramped shower stalls.
Instead, we walked into a massive, steam-filled chamber: the sauna.
I froze at the entrance.
Everyone was... completely naked, some covered by towels, some not.
Old men, young guys, businessmen—all casually strolling around or soaking in giant hot tubs without a care in the world.
"San? You coming?" Ji-hoon asked, already unlooping his towel.
"I... uh... in Ukraine, we usually keep the underwear on in public showers," I stammered, feeling my face turn a shade of red that had nothing to do with the heat.
Ji-hoon stopped and looked back, chuckling.
"Don't be shy. When I was young, I'd go to the public baths with my father every Sunday. It's a tradition here. Nobody is looking at you, man. We're all just skin and bone."
I took a deep breath, shed my pride along with my clothes, and stepped into the steam.
As we sat in the hot soak, the tension finally began to bleed out of my muscles. The water was scalding, but in a way that made my bones feel like they were melting into the marble.
Ji-hoon leaned back, his eyes closed.
He glanced over at my shoulders, which were currently taking up a significant portion of the tub's edge.
"You know," Ji-hoon mused, "your name is San (Mountain), right?"
"Yeah?"
"If you keep training like this, you're going to be a landslide."
I let out a loud, echoing laugh that bounced off the tiled walls.
"I'll take that as a compliment, Hyung."
"It is," he grinned.
We stayed there until our skin was wrinkled and the world felt soft.
It was exhausting, my mind was quiet.
Vrrr-vrrr.
Ji-hoon's waterproof phone buzzed on the ledge.
He checked the screen and sighed.
"It's Ha-neul," he said. "She's finished. Apparently, if we don't pick her up in the next five minutes, she's going to 'expire from starvation.'"
"Time flies," I muttered, realizing we'd been in the gym and spa for over two hours.
We showered quickly—I was much faster now that the initial "naked shock" had worn off—and dressed.
The drive back was quiet, the car heater humming as we picked up a grumpy, hungry Ha-neul.
"You guys smell like old men and soap," she grumbled, climbing into the back. "Where's my strawberry milk? I was promised tribute."
"We'll stop at the 7-Eleven," Ji-hoon promised, exhausted but smiling.
When we finally pulled into the driveway of the Lee residence, the house was dark.
Mrs. Lee's car wasn't in the driveway—likely a late shift or a business dinner.
The silence of the empty house hit me harder than the training had.
I walked into the kitchen, the golden trophy from the festival still sitting on the sideboard, a reminder of a life that felt increasingly like a dream.
I took out my phone.
I checked the time in Ukraine.
It was late afternoon there.
I needed a different kind of sanctuary.
I tapped the contact labeled Mama.
"Sonechko, what happened, you usually call before going to sleep," her voice came through, slightly distorted by the distance but warm and familiar. "Is everything okay? Why are you calling so early?"
"Everything is fine, Mama," I said, leaning against the cold counter and closing my eyes. "I just... I just wanted to hear your voice."