Room 405 and the Heart of Alabama

After finishing check-in, I was escorted to the dorms. It was still the off-season, so the building was nearly empty.

My new home would be a two-person room. According to Dwayne, freshmen and sophomores were required to live in doubles, and only from junior year onward could a player claim a room of his own.

"The teammate staying with you is Luke Metz. He's a linebacker and a sophomore. Learning the ropes of Alabama life from an upperclassman roommate will do you a lot of good."

So he was something like a mentor figure. Listening further, it seemed dorm life was mandatory through sophomore year. After that, players were free to move off-campus if they pleased.

Ssss—.

And then it happened. The Gift, which had lain silent for so long, began to stir, writhing beneath my skin. Startled—it hadn't moved at all recently—I glanced down at the floor, and…

Well, hello there, you gorgeous little event.

The mission hadn't appeared even once throughout the entire regular season and playoffs, which had honestly left me wanting. And now, the moment I set foot on campus, here it was—and not even a particularly difficult one at that.

The reward was a stamina boost, no less. And there was no penalty for failure.

"Jaehyuk? You okay?"

"It's nothing."

When I abruptly stopped and stared at the floor, David had called out to me with a puzzled look. I waved it off casually and turned to Dwayne.

"Did Luke Metz not go home for the break?"

"Probably not. Usually about half the guys stay on campus each break, and the ones who do visit home keep it short. Everyone's back by the time the semester starts."

So odds were good he was in the room right now. I headed toward my new quarters with expectations running high—and there it was. Room 405.

Knock knock.

David rapped on the door. A flurry of movement stirred inside, and before long it swung open.

"Can I help you?"

A white guy, appearing in the doorway—and for a moment, I was genuinely startled.

That neck…

The thickness of it defied imagination. The line between his jaw and his neck had all but vanished beneath slabs of muscle. And yet, somehow, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his face looked like it belonged to an action star out of the sixties or seventies. Unkindly put, it was old-fashioned; charitably, it was cinematic.

He studied David, then Dwayne, then me in turn—and frowned.

"You're actually coming?"

"Haha. That's right. This is Kim Jaehyuk. He just got in today."

I gave a small nod of greeting, and Luke's expression turned strange.

"He's a total baby."

"Luke."

David's eyes narrowed into a warning. Luke just shrugged and gestured for us to come in.

"Let's get along, roommate."

What was with this guy—calling me a baby one second and telling me to get along the next? Whatever. I hauled my luggage inside.

The room was surprisingly spacious. It had a distinctly lived-in feel, but it wasn't bad at all.

"Thank you for bringing me out here."

When I belatedly thanked David and Dwayne, they both nodded, offered a few parting pleasantries, and were gone.

Thud.

The door clicked shut, and Luke began the tour.

"That's your bedroom. That's the bathroom—and your bedroom's got its own toilet too, so you could burrow in there and never come out if you wanted."

"Hey."

"Hm?"

Luke tilted his head at my call. I set my carry-on and backpack down roughly and looked at him.

"Forget the room. Show me something else. I want to check out where we train—the gym, stuff like that. First things first."

"Ooh. Somebody's got that fire burning hot, huh?"

Luke smiled, then nodded and answered readily enough.

"Honestly, I've been curious anyway, so this works out. I couldn't believe a scrawny thing like you was the number two running back in the nation for 2026."

"You said you were a linebacker, right?"

"That's right. But keep one thing in mind—I'm your senior here."

"So what?"

Was he expecting to be treated like some respected elder? My assumption, however, was spectacularly wrong.

"Two years ago, I was tearing the high school leagues apart myself—a top prospect. And it's not just me. Every single player here was a monster who used to bomb the hell out of their league, same as you."

"Sounds fun."

"Haha! It is. A very fun place. So whether you're the number two running back in the nation or whatever—don't get too cocky. Our Alabama roster alone has nine running backs on it right now. And every one of them was a top-ten national recruit. One of them was number one, matter of fact."

Nine, huh.

That was a lot. My starting job was guaranteed, but the competition was going to be fierce. If I slipped up even a little, I'd be grinding it out in the trenches among those nine.

Not that I had any intention of slipping up.

Luke ducked into his own room to grab a few things before we headed out, and I took the chance to look around the place myself. One big shared living room, a communal kitchen, and—just as Luke had said—a bathroom. Two bedrooms, one clearly mine, the other his.

Stepping into my room, I found it in excellent condition. A king-size bed. A desk and a chair. Two built-in closets. And a small attached bathroom. I left my luggage and packed a light bag, and by the time I stepped out, Luke was emerging from his room too.

"Let's go."

The place Luke took me to was what people called the heart of Alabama—the Mal M. Moore Athletic Facility. A sprawling complex of buildings all woven together, and the moment I stepped off the elevator, its grandeur caught me off guard.

"Whoa."

The first thing to greet the eye was an interior all in black and crimson, radiating a sleek modern palette. Trophies of every shape and size lined the space, which was laid out like a lounge, with comfortable seating scattered throughout.

At its center stood a massive display of photographs and trophies honoring Alabama's Heisman Trophy winners—the finest college players in the nation. Embedded in one of the building's pillars, year after year of championship victories were carved in relief, while the opposite wall featured the giant ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠NFL logo beneath a display of helmets from every Alabama alum who'd made it to the pros.

"What do you think?"

"Pretty cool."

This was interior design that could make even someone like me—someone who'd never cared much about football—feel his pulse quicken. Whoever had been in charge of it clearly understood exactly how to stoke a player's fighting spirit.

Walking on down the corridor, we passed countless championship rings and players' trophies gleaming behind white walls and glass cases. The larger-than-life player photos hung like posters everywhere added their own shot of adrenaline.

You can feel the pride in this place.

My younger siblings had drilled it into my ears often enough—that Alabama's football pride was probably the greatest of any program in the country. And a little farther along, photographs tracing Alabama's long history stretched down a corridor that felt almost narrow for everything it held.

At last we arrived at the locker room. The shoe cubbies were visible right at the entrance, so we stowed our shoes first thing.

"You got your number?"

"Yeah."

Number 21. I tucked my shoes into a cubby and slipped on the pair I'd brought with me. That was when I saw someone walking out from the depths of the locker room.

"Yo! What's good!"

The guy greeted us with a dazzling grin. He was a Black player with his hair—dyed red at some point—twisted back into dreadlocks, which was striking enough on its own.

But what actually startled me was his appearance.

Why does he look so young?

He was tall, but with a slight, almost delicate frame. His face was youthful enough that you'd believe he was in middle school. And dangling from him, gleaming everywhere, were necklaces and rings by the dozen. The 'A' chain—the symbol of Alabama—caught the eye especially.

"Ah! Ryan, sir! Good to see you!"

Enormous Luke suddenly bowed his head in greeting to this kid.

Older than Luke? So a junior? A senior? Either way, he looked absurdly young.

"Hey, Luke! You here to train?"

"Came down for that, and to drop something off. This is Kim Jaehyuk—my new roommate, one of the new guys."

"Good to meet you."

I offered a simple greeting first. And Ryan's eyes went perfectly round.

"Whoa, whoa! Sorry, sorry! Didn't realize you were a freshman. Early enrollment?!"

This guy had fantastic energy. When I nodded, Luke chimed in from the side.

"This is him, sir—the guy all the buzz has been about."

The guy all the buzz has been about? What's that supposed to mean?

Then Ryan stuck out his hand with a bright smile.

"Ah! So you're the one? The guy who's supposed to step in as our starting running back when he joins? Great to meet you. I'm Ryan Williams. I'm a junior."

"Kim Jaehyuk. Just got in."

I took the handshake, and he did some kind of elaborate little flourish before slapping my palm twice.

"I was just heading out, but there's no way I'm passing this up. Mind if I watch?"

"Be my guest."

When I nodded, Ryan lit up with a gleeful 'yes!' He was as cheerful in his movements as he was in his face—like an overgrown kid. And yet, the fact that he was here, at Alabama, meant he was one hell of a player.

"Give me a minute! I need to grab my gear again—wait right here!"

And with a clatter, Ryan vanished. Luke leaned in and murmured to me.

"You've probably figured it out already, but that guy's one of our team's aces. He put up monster numbers again this past season."

An ace?

That little guy? Sure, he was taller than me, but he looked so thin you'd never guess it—was it just the baggy hoodie?

"Wait. Don't tell me you don't know who Ryan is?"

"Why would I?"

"…Then you don't know me either?"

"We met for the first time today. How would I?"

At my completely unbothered answer, Luke wore a look of pure incredulity. But what could I do? My football résumé was thin, and the information gap was simply a fact of life.

Judging by that expression, though, the two of them were apparently pretty famous in their own right.

"Ryan is the first player ever to win Alabama's Mr. Football award two years running—in 2022 and 2023. And he enrolled early, just like you."

"Ohh."

"He won SEC Freshman of the Week in his very first season after early enrolling. Then he earned spots on the SEC All-Freshman Team and First-Team All-SEC. The man's the real deal."

"What position?"

"Wide receiver. Seriously—you don't know anything, do you? And somehow you still got into Alabama."

I ignored Luke's jab and privately marveled at Ryan instead. For all his baby-faced looks, the guy was genuinely impressive.

Since the topic was open, I put the question to Luke, who looked ready to needle me again.

"And you?"

"Haha. Me? I was the number two inside linebacker in the nation. Just like you."

Figures. Guy's the real deal too.

Not that there was probably a single ordinary player in this whole place anyway.

"Kept you waiting? Sorry, sorry! Let's head in!"

Ryan popped back up out of nowhere while we were still talking, and it startled me for a moment.

Definitely…

I hadn't even noticed when he'd appeared. His movements were lightning-quick too. Was this just second nature to him, ground into his everyday life? A wide receiver, he'd said—and he was clearly anything but ordinary.

Before long, we passed through a striking corridor of red brick mixed with white concrete, and there it was: the massive training facility up ahead.

"That's the Strength and Conditioning Center."

"…Holy hell."

It was insane. My dream gym was sitting right in front of my eyes.

At my awe-struck reaction, Ryan giggled, and Luke gave my back an easy thump with a satisfied grin.

"Take a look around."

"Don't mind if I do."

I walked straight in. Row upon row of the latest weight-training machines and cardio equipment stretched out before me. The interior was remarkably bright—now that I looked, an entire wall of windows ran floor to ceiling, and even the ceiling was studded with skylights. Beyond the glass, a beautifully manicured grass field stretched into view.

Under that flood of clean sunlight, a good crowd was gathered inside the gym—some clustered around something, others grinding through their workouts.

"What's that one?"

Strange machines whose purposes I couldn't guess stood in ranks everywhere. I'd need to take my time learning how to use them all. My heart was already starting to race.

"Out there's the outdoor field, and this way there's an indoor one."

Ryan explained as he trailed along behind me—then grabbed me and started hauling me toward the indoor field.

"Hey—why are you dragging me?"

"The gym can wait! Show me what you can do first. I've been dying to know!"

My skills? Ah—right. That suited me fine too, since I had a quest to complete.

"Then how about you go one-on-one with me?"

"One-on-one! Obviously! Haha, this'll be fun."

Ryan nodded with a bright grin—and Luke's face went pale.

"Jaehyuk, you said you're a running back, right? Ryan's going to peel you apart."

"Just throw me the ball, Luke."

"…Guess you'll have to get embarrassed once before you come to your senses."

Shaking his head, Luke went to get set up. Ryan, meanwhile, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠began warming ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up lightly.

"You're not changing clothes?"

"Hm? Oh! I'm good!"

Ryan nodded brightly in his oversized hoodie. Well, if that was what he wanted, I wasn't going to force the issue. I just hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Because I'm going all out.

I grinned as I changed into my training gear. Time to find out exactly what Alabama was made of.