DASH-Chapter 187

Even though the proposal event he’d originally planned had been scrapped, Jaekyoung still hadn’t forgotten his goal of hanging all the medals he won around Jiheon’s neck and proposing. And every day, he kept cutting through the water toward that goal—until he had, before anyone noticed, collected seven medals.

And now, he stood before the final event of his Olympics: the 400-meter freestyle relay final.

“The starting order for Korea’s men’s 400m freestyle relay final is Cho Junhwan, Park Namhyeon, Lee Haejeong, and finally Kwon Jaekyoung. It’s the same lineup as in the preliminaries, right?”

“Yes, leading off is Cho Junhwan, known for his quick and precise starts. And finishing last is Kwon Jaekyoung, who holds the world record in the 100m freestyle.”

“That’s the new record set at this Olympics.”

“That’s right. And the previous record—was his too.”

The commentator laughed as the announcer added, “At this rate, he might end up setting a record for most world records.”

“There were a lot of concerns when he injured his shoulder right before the second trials, but he’s showing absolutely phenomenal results this Olympics.”

“Exactly. Out of seven events, he’s won five golds and two silvers. He’s broken the world records in the 100m and 200m freestyle, and the 200m individual medley.”

“And in the 400m individual medley, he just barely missed it—by 0.04 seconds.”

“Right. The current world record is 4:03.84, and Jaekyoung came in at 4:03.88.”

“If his fingernails had just been a bit longer—haha.”

“If he were one centimeter taller!”

“So that makes him 196cm now? Damn, that’s nice.”

“At this rate, he might hit that by next year’s World Championships.”

...No, stop growing.

Jiheon thought to himself.

It wasn’t like it would be a problem if Jaekyoung grew taller. Height was a good thing for a swimmer. The taller, the better.

And yet, lately, every time someone said that Jaekyoung had grown, or was growing, or might keep growing—Jiheon felt a wave of dread. The reason, obviously, was the baby in his belly. The baby was already in the top 2% for weight, and thinking about how much more it could grow in the remaining two months was enough to keep him up at night in fear.

Last year, when Jaekyoung found out he’d grown another centimeter, he’d been overjoyed. But this time, even though he’d grown 1.2cm in a year, he didn’t brag—instead, he kept watching Jiheon’s reaction. Then, after a long pause, he’d said, as if to reassure him:

“Hyung, it’s fine. Genie’s gonna take after you.”

Hey. You think if he takes after me he’ll be small or something?—Jiheon didn’t even bother saying that, because “He’ll take after you” had been Jaekyoung’s mantra ever since they found out the baby was a boy. He had declared, over and over, that the baby had to look like Jiheon. That it would look like Jiheon. That it must be a son who looked exactly like him!

Even though, looking at the belly alone, it was obviously Kwon Jaekyoung’s kid—he kept denying it, insisting, ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) “No, no, he’ll look like you. He has to look like you. There’s no way he won’t.”

He acted like it would be a disaster if the baby didn’t resemble Jiheon. And when Jiheon finally asked, “Why do you want him to look like me so badly?” the answer had been ridiculous.

“So he’ll be handsome, cool, kind, athletic, diligent, and just the best in every way.”

He said it with the biggest grin, like just thinking about it made him happy. Jiheon couldn’t even respond. As if Jaekyoung wasn’t all those things too. Handsome, cool, kind, athletic, diligent—and on top of that, ridiculously cute.

Which brought Jiheon to another worry these days: What if, now that he had a tiny, adorable creature who was just like him—Jaekyoung stopped being cute himself?

Lately, people had been saying that ever since he became the team’s eldest member, Jaekyoung had gotten noticeably more mature. Jiheon hoped that was just for outside appearances, and that he’d still be cute at home. He was only twenty-two. Still the perfect age to be cute. Jiheon let out a little sigh, overcome with this utterly useless sadness.

And then—suddenly, an explosive cheer erupted. Jiheon looked up to see Jaekyoung’s face filling the massive screen. Apparently dissatisfied with something, Jaekyoung had taken off and put back on his swim cap, and the camera hadn’t missed a second of it.

The longer the camera stayed on him, the louder the cheering got.

It didn’t matter whether they were Australian or not—anyone who came all the way to watch Olympic swimming in person was a true fan of the sport. There was no reason they wouldn’t sincerely admire a champion who had held the world’s top title for years. Every time Jaekyoung broke a new record or stood atop the podium with another gold, they cheered and clapped for him just like they would for one of their own. And every time that happened, Jiheon felt firsthand what it meant when people said, “Sports transcend national borders.”

When the camera panned back to the starting blocks, the swimmers had stepped up to them.

“Looks like the race is finally about to begin.”

“Yes, we’re coming to you live from Brisbane Olympic Pool. You’re watching the men’s 400-meter freestyle relay final.”

The announcer and commentator practically shouted, their voices full of excitement. Even in their nervousness, they couldn’t hide how thrilled they were—the Korean team must’ve made them really proud. And no wonder. Reaching the finals on their first try was something to be proud of.

No one had expected them to do this well. Even back in Korea, people were starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might win a medal. But among those actually on-site, the general sentiment was that it was probably a long shot. Jiheon felt the same. Of course, it would be great if they got a medal—but realistically, the odds were close to zero.

In swimming, too, the same countries always won the medals. The U.S., Australia, and France essentially just rotated which one got gold, silver, and bronze. These countries had such a deep bench that they didn’t even send their main swimmers for the relay heats. They used alternates, preserved the stamina of their best athletes, and brought them in fresh for the finals. In contrast, teams like Korea that used the same lineup for both heats and finals faced obvious disadvantages in endurance.

Still—just getting here was an achievement in itself.

Jiheon truly believed that. The phrase “just participating is meaningful” could sometimes be an empty excuse, but not this time. Not for him. Out of all of Jaekyoung’s achievements at this Olympics, this relay event was the most miraculous and moving. And he was sure Jaekyoung felt the same.

“The first swimmers are now stepping up to the blocks. In lane 7, representing Korea, we have Cho Junhwan.”

The announcer’s voice grew firm. The camera panned across the eight swimmers taking their positions. Just moments ago the arena had been full of cheers, but now it was so quiet you could hear every breath.

Right about now, all their hearts must be ready to explode.

Jiheon looked at the athletes crouched in identical poses and thought to himself:

They probably couldn’t hear anything except their own pulse. The pool must seem to come closer, then farther away. Part of them was desperate to dive in—and another part wanted to run. But once they were in the water, maybe, just maybe, they’d be faster than anyone else. Or maybe not.

And then, at that very moment, came that sound. The one that swept away every doubt and fear.

Beep──

The swimmers dove into the water all at once. As if casting off every hesitation, they sliced powerfully through the water.

The crowd erupted. A second later, the swimmers broke the surface almost simultaneously, and the cheers grew even louder.

The thunderous noise sent shivers down Jiheon’s spine.

Always—always—

This was the most thrilling moment.

Whether underwater or above it.

The most exhilarating. The most overwhelming.

◆◇◆

After the medal ceremony and post-podium interviews ended, Jaekyoung declared without hesitation that he was leaving the Olympic Village. He had already packed his bags and brought them with him. The moment he stepped out of the interview area, he spotted Jiheon standing with the coach—and ran straight over.

“Hyung.”

With a giant sports bag slung over his shoulder, Jaekyoung stood right next to Jiheon. The new national team coach clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“You were in that much of a hurry to leave?”

The Olympics had notoriously strict athlete management to prevent incidents and scandals. Athletes were required to stay in the Olympic Village during their events. The village was closed to outsiders—no family, no managers, no personal coaches. Only official staff. And athletes weren’t allowed to spend nights outside.

Jaekyoung, too, had spent the week of his events in the village dorms. Jiheon had figured it would be fine since they still got to see each other briefly after races—but apparently, that hadn’t been enough. By the third day of the Olympics, Jaekyoung had already started saying, “I’m getting the hell out of the village the second my last race ends.” And sure enough, on the day of his final event—not even the next day—he had packed his things and was ready to go. Coach Shin could only sigh.

“You’ve got a team press conference tomorrow. Couldn’t you have waited until after that?”

“What for?”

Jaekyoung replied bluntly.

“Fine, just go.”

Coach Shin gave him a look that said, What did I expect from you anyway. He had coached the team at last year’s Pan-Pacific Championships, so by now he didn’t even bother commenting on Jaekyoung’s personal whims.

“I’ll be sure to visit again before the closing ceremony.”

Jiheon bowed awkwardly and offered a polite farewell, but Coach Shin waved it off.

“No, no—don’t bother. You’re carrying a whole baby, don’t make the trip.”

Besides, they were both from the swimming world, and Shin was technically Jiheon’s senior—so the casual tone between them had come naturally from the start.

“Seriously though, are you sure it’s not twins?”

Coach Shin still sounded skeptical.

“It’s not,” Jaekyoung said flatly.

But the way he said it had just a hint of regret, and Jiheon thought to himself, You little...

Ever since they found out Genie was a boy, Jaekyoung had been saying stuff like, “But if he were a girl, wouldn’t she have been super pretty too?” at least once every two months. Every time, Jiheon would reply, “Yeah, especially if you were the one carrying her, not me.” That would shut Jaekyoung up for another two months. But judging by his recent attitude, it wasn’t that he wanted a girl—it was that he wanted a second baby. Especially with the way he talked about buying expensive baby clothes “because they’ll last and we can reuse them next time,” or insisted their next house had to have at least five rooms... It was obvious.

He’d better not suggest a family trip to the Maldives the minute the baby is born.

Jiheon silently warned him as they left the stadium together.