Rest #3
The moment Yohan set foot in Korea, his eyes went round with surprise.
There were far more reporters than he'd expected.
Simone had given him a heads-up, but he'd figured three or four at most would show. Counting the cameras and journalists clustered in the arrivals hall, there were easily ten.
The U-17 national team rarely drew that kind of media attention. Ordinary citizens and football fans alike barely cared about high schoolers' matches.
Yohan was different.
He had debuted in Serie A — one of the Big Four leagues — and proven his talent by racking up attacking contributions against seasoned professionals. On top of that, he was mixed-race and had spent years living in Italy. Talent aside, his unusual background set him apart from typical Korean players, so his name was already well known at home.
Click—! Click-click-click!
A barrage of camera shutters greeted Yohan as he emerged with his suitcase. Still looking dazed, he bowed his head the moment a national team official approached.
"Hello. I'm Yohan Lee."
A few people chuckled. From a Korean perspective Yohan looked a little foreign, yet the greeting was perfectly in keeping with Korean manners — and so natural that the faint air of unfamiliarity among the crowd melted away.
"Nice to meet you. You heard from your agent, right? We need a short interview — that okay?"
"Yes."
"I'll cut off anything that crosses the line, so don't worry. This way."
Yohan followed the official to a small space prepared for him and began taking questions.
"Yohan Lee, congratulations on your Roma debut. How did you feel when you made it?"
"I think I was a bit dazed. It would be a lie to say I wasn't hoping to play once I made the squad, but when they actually told me to go on, I was incredibly nervous."
True to form, the sports journalists had all watched his debut. Remembering the look on his face when he came on as a substitute, they snickered.
"Your Korean is excellent — any secret?"
"Pardon? Um... because I'm Korean? I was already good at Korean before I ever went to Italy. I was born in Rome, but I lived in Seoul from age one to five. I could even buy ice cream on my own just fine."
The reporter who'd asked laughed and apologized. At the same time, other journalists scratched something out of their notebooks — the question about why a dual Korean-Italian citizen had chosen the Korean national team. After hearing his answer, they decided they shouldn't treat him like a foreigner.
"I understand you received a call-up while playing for the Primavera. Why weren't you able to join then?"
A national team official fielded that one for him.
"We sent an official request, but Roma declined. For senior national team A-matches there's no right of refusal, but for youth sides clubs can refuse to release a player. Considering Yohan Lee's condition, we'll take just one more question."
The last question was the usual one for a first call-up — his resolve upon being selected. Yohan leaned close to the microphone and spoke with genuine sincerity.
"Having been chosen for such an honor among so many players, I want to show you all a good performance going forward."
With the short press conference over, Yohan was about to leave with the official after greeting the reporters when—
"Currently, former Korea Football Association president Kim Yi-ok has been arrested for corruption and is serving a prison sentence, and with the senior national team on the verge of the World Cup..."
One reporter tried to launch into a ridiculous question. As everyone frowned at the sudden outburst, the national team official openly clicked his tongue and cut him off.
"Yohan Lee is fifteen years old."
The tone was pure rebuke — was he really putting a question like that to a fifteen-year-old who should be focused solely on football and had no specialized knowledge of that sort of thing? That settled the matter.
Heading to the lodging with the official and Simone, Yohan noticed a curious look in his new teammates' eyes when he met them. It wasn't wariness. More like curiosity. A new face had joined a U-17 squad where most people already knew each other.
With manners suited to Korean sensibilities and his natural affability, Yohan quickly became friends with them. Over the training period they built chemistry while playing friendlies.
The U-17 national team carried almost no pressure regarding results. It was the same in other countries — results themselves were all over the place, and with the focus on player development, no one complained even after a thrashing. And this year, with the senior national team's World Cup underway, the U-17 matches barely drew any attention at all.
The only real buzz came from the interview Yohan had given upon arrival, and from articles about him scoring multiple goals in friendlies against Thailand and Indonesia to secure victories.
For someone who'd been playing at Serie A first-team level, U-17 matches were far too easy. Even so, he played with passion and left an impression on his teammates and coaching staff, who said he simply wasn't a talent who belonged at this level.
"Next call-up he'll move up to the U-20s. Maybe even straight to the senior team."
"There needs to be a reasonable gap for jealousy... that kid's just different. Even if I'd trained overseas the whole time, I don't think I could do what he does."
Talk like that among the players made it clear that U-17 football simply wasn't at Yohan's level. The U-17 squad was certain that next national team period, he would skip ahead somewhere.
Yohan's first national team stint passed without major incident. After helping the nuns who'd arrived late in Korea with a few days of volunteer work at the orphanage, he headed to America.
"Whoa... this is it...!?"
Climbing out of the car, Yohan couldn't close his mouth at the vast garden spread before him and the freestanding house sitting smack in the middle of it, radiating presence.
"What do you think? Better than New York?"
Caroline's proud voice came from beside him. Yohan nodded hurriedly.
"That place was amazing too, but this is... just incredible. Way better than the photos...!"
It was exactly the kind of house he'd imagined as an ideal for a big family. A freestanding home that even Caroline's relatives wouldn't feel distant in the way they might at the New York place — a house that fully felt lived-in. He loved it.
Even better was the sky. New York had felt a bit gloomy, but here the thought came unbidden that it was brilliantly clear. Bright and sunny with a pleasant temperature, which only made the house feel more welcoming.
"I think Auntie and I have the same taste in houses."
"Is that so? Makes me happy. Haley should be at the pool right now."
"I'd like to say hello to the others first."
"They won't be back till evening. Same with Aiden."
"Oh, really? Then let's go see Haley."
"Alright, let's hurry."
Following Caroline, Yohan spotted a rectangular tube floating on a pool roughly the size of a decent indoor swimming pool. There, basking in the warm sunlight, was Haley.
Though calling it sunbathing was a stretch. Wearing a swimsuit and sunglasses fit the category, but the problem was the very thin blanket draped over her. She was even watching something on her phone. At that point she was no different from someone resting in bed — but that didn't matter to Yohan.
"Haley!"
At Yohan's cry, thick with delight, she slid her sunglasses up and gave a casual wave.
"You're here?"
"Yeah. But this house is no joke...! It's amazing...!"
"Don't make a fuss... go unpack."
"You're not going to show me around?"
"Shower first. And hand me that smoothie over there."
"Where?"
"The one under the parasol. No... don't you dare drink it — give it to me...!"
"You're in the pool. How am I supposed to give it to you? But this is good. Where'd you get it?"
"Give it back...!! One more sip and you're dead?"
"Thanks. I'll enjoy it."
"You lunatic... hey! Stay right there! I said stay!?"
"Gonna shower."
"Put that down and go!! Ah, damn... why is this so slow...!"
Haley paddling frantically with her hands was so funny Yohan nearly burst out laughing, but if he cracked up here he'd face compounded revenge including the smoothie theft. He settled for bolting into the house.
After showering, Yohan plopped down on the sofa surrounding the large table in the center of the living room and let out an old-man-like aah of a sigh. When Haley, also freshly showered, sat beside him and struck a boxer's pose, he quickly apologized.
"Sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"For stealing your smoothie."
"At least you know your crime. You've got some shame. How many hits you want?"
"I don't want to get hit even once."
"Not happening. You've got to take at least six."
"Why six specifically?"
"The smoothie was six dollars. How long are you staying here, anyway?"
"I'm going back with you."
"Yeah? Don't you have football?"
"Season's still a ways off, so I can rest the whole time. But I'll practice on my own in between."
"I see."
Thud.
Haley nodded and threw a left jab at Yohan's arm. It looked like there was no force in it, but when it landed he felt a heavy impact and felt thoroughly wronged.
"You can hit someone just for drinking a smoothie?"
"You ate mine, so you get hit. If you'd eaten your own smoothie, who would have said anything?"
"Between us, what's mine and yours?"
"That kind of talk isn't good. It's the kind that earns you a beating. Let's add one more."
"I'm rather hurt."
"Hurt, my foot."
Thud, thud.
After taking two more lighter hits than before, Yohan let out a hollow laugh when Haley stretched out on the sofa and put her legs up on his thigh.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to sleep?"
"You're not going to show me the house?"
"Look around yourself."
"How am I supposed to look around with you like this?"
"Just look with your eyes. You talk too much."
"That's harsh. But the house really is great."
Yohan kept saying things like that — Haley's newly moved house invited nothing but praise. The interior overall had a bright color scheme based on white, leaving him feeling refreshed.
When Haley yawned long and closed her eyes, Yohan did the same. Perhaps from the long flight, his eyes soon shut, and soft, even breathing escaped his nose.
Peeking through half-lidded eyes at the sleeping Yohan, Haley scooted her hips closer to him. Then she draped her legs over his thigh and took a nap.
Caroline, who'd come out after briefly handling some work in her room, couldn't help smiling at the two of them. A warm scene that brought back their childhood. Thinking that, she quieted her footsteps, went to the window, and closed the curtains.