I'm Heading Overseas (1)
“Aaaargh!”
“What, what is it?!”
Luna jumped in shock at the sudden scream, nearly dropping her phone mid-call in her room. That was definitely her brother Luka's voice.
“B-bro?!”
So flustered that she accidentally used the word she rarely ever said—“bro”—Luna bolted toward Luka's room. What if something terrible happened? Worry flooded her mind right up until she flung open the door.
And the sight that greeted her was truly shocking.
“Aaaah! Why! Why the hell?!”
There was her brother, clutching his head in the chair and screaming, with photos and posters of his hero, Ronaldo, torn to shreds scattered across the floor at his feet like trash.
Sure, soccer was his favorite thing in the world, and seeing his idol like that would make anyone scream—but Luna knew exactly who those arrows would point to.
After a brief argument, the teary-eyed little sister had stormed off first. And a few minutes later, walking into the room to find the posters shredded? There was only one possible culprit in Luka's mind.
“I-It wasn't me! I didn't do it!”
Luna blurted out the truth in her panic, but her brother just kept wailing.
“B-bro... you okay?”
“Why... why of all things...!”
Was Ronaldo that big a deal? She knew her brother was a fan. Luna liked him a fair bit herself—who wouldn't? Half her blood was Portuguese, after all, and Ronaldo was Portugal's hero.
But this was over the top.
Mom wouldn't even go this far.
Even her mom, whose veins ran 100% Portuguese blood, wouldn't wail like this over a mere torn poster. Ronaldo wasn't dead or anything.
Her brother's obsession with soccer went beyond love—it bordered on madness, and it struck her as a little pathetic. But then she remembered that unusually gentle hand wiping away her tears after she'd cursed him out, unlike his usual self.
“Bro, it's okay. Calm down.”
Luna pulled her screaming brother—still seated in the chair, face buried—into a hug, stroking his hair just like her mom had comforted her whenever Luka had hurt her feelings.
Luka's face nestled softly into Luna's chest, which was already several sizes bigger than her peers'. And then... a damp sensation seeping through her top.
“Are you... crying?”
No way. Even if it was heartbreaking, was it tear-worthy? Her brother was acting so weird today. She'd never seen him cry once, but twice in a single day?
Luka was inhumanly stoic. Blunt to the point of ignoring others' feelings. A soccer genius who'd shone since childhood, following in his national-team-star father's footsteps. And because of that, he looked down on everyone with utter arrogance.
To his own sister, he seemed like he had serious personality issues. That's why Luna hadn't liked him much either. But seeing him wipe her tears so tenderly, and now bawling like this... he finally seemed a little human.
A weird brother, sure—but better than an inhuman one.
Luna stroked his hair even more warmly.
“It's okay. It'll all be fine.”
Maybe her brother, who'd always acted tough, had been struggling too. A genius soccer boy shouldering the nation's expectations. Arrogant, yes—but he'd borne it all alone.
So even something trivial could make him crack. Emotions burst out over the smallest things.
Luna had been hurt by his casual barbs plenty of times herself. She wanted to tease him mercilessly for it... but that warm hand on her tears made her want to comfort him, just for today.
“You've been through a lot, huh?”
No answer came. But maybe because her touch was so warm... tears poured even harder from Luka's eyes.
In my Kim Taehyun days, I never cried in front of anyone.
Not even when my mental state was so fragile the shrinks warned me, when I'd hit rock bottom. I'd just drink alone and smoke it off, refusing to show weakness.
Could someone's hand feel this warm?
Luka had always played strong in front of his parents, so Luna's touch felt warmer than anyone's.
Overwhelmed by genuine comfort for the first time in his life, Luka buried his face in her torso and sobbed even harder without realizing it.
*
...Fuck.
I cursed inwardly, mortified by the situation. It wasn't even worth crying over—yet here I was, bawling in the arms of a girl way younger than me!
Internet checks confirmed: Mom was Portuguese. And Portugal? One of the countries I hated most.
Korea had mocked me the second I fell. Japan treated my broken self like a cash cow. But Portugal? Right up there with them.
If anything, compared to Portugal and Korea, Japan at least let me earn money in my ruined state.
My injury's number one cause: national team overtraining. Number two: Sporting's brutality. Hated Sporting, hated Portugal.
Learning one of my nationalities was from the country that wrecked my life? I screamed without thinking. Even shed a few tears over being tied to it again in this life.
But not enough to sob like this.
...Hate to admit it, but since possessing this body, my mental game's been off. Cracking over a pat on the back, pouring tears like this.
God, embarrassing.
Every stroke on the back of my head amplified the shame. But lifting my face meant meeting her eyes—and I lacked the guts.
Still, staying buried in her chest forever? Shameless. Pride vs. shamelessness with a kid sister. Pride mattered, but I couldn't keep up the latter.
I lifted my head.
“Bro, you okay now?”
My sister—Luna, right, from the nameplate?—looked at me with concern.
I'd heard siblings usually suck. But with a sweet one like this, maybe that was just jealous only-child bullshit.
Yelling curses at such a kind sister on first sight? Sorry, Luna, I apologized internally.
“Bro?”
She called again at my silence.
I'd dated plenty in my pro soccer heyday, but damn—Luna was stunning. Mixed heritage perks on full display. Just like the original story praised her as a beauty who'd turn heads, worthy of her looker brother Luka.
But more striking than her looks: the tear stains on her ample chest, fully developed already.
Even as a brother, I owed her an apology.
“Sorry about your shirt...”
“Oh... whatever, it needed washing anyway.”
Luna was as big-hearted as she was busty. But she glanced at the stains on her uniform, and awkwardness settled between us.
“...But seriously, I didn't tear those posters.”
Unable to bear the silence, Luna spoke first. She'd seemed so mature comforting me moments ago, but worrying over something like this made her feel like a proper little sister.
“No misunderstanding. I did it.”
Obviously me who'd shredded them—so I patted her head reassuringly. Her already big eyes widened further. Adorable. Gotta treat her right from now on.
“Ahem. Anyway, keep the crying a secret.”
Sobbing in my sister's arms? Mortifying if word got out. I asked her to keep it hush.
“Secret? Heh?”
Luna flashed a sly smile, slipping back to her teasing first-meeting vibe.
“...Please.”
“Eh, I'll think about it.”
“Come on.”
She giggled at my plea—good sign she wouldn't blab.
...Right?
Yeah, probably not.
“But why rip up all the posters and cry? Ronaldo in some scandal or what?”
How to explain? I pondered briefly, then went with it.
“Decided to stop idolizing.”
Not a lie. Just the target had changed.
To surpass that man—no, Messi—and become the world's greatest, I had to ditch admiration and focus on beating him. Blind worship just made me another fanboy.
“...Huh? What does that have to do with it?”
“To be the world's best, you gotta shed the fangirling and think victory. Right, Luna? I'm going overseas.”
Overseas. World-class soccer star.
One nationality from a hated Portugal? Fine. I'd played for Korea's team too, despite hating it. Patriotism was bullshit anyway—I'd exploit nations ruthlessly for my career.
“Wh-what?! Overseas?!”
Luna gawked, floored. Never imagined me going abroad.
“Yeah.”
“Where? Got an offer? Wait, weren't you going to Shinomiya High?”
“Japan's too small. Gotta challenge anywhere.”
Hadn't picked a spot yet. Would scout later. But with my skills? Anywhere would take me.
“Whoa... talk about confidence.”
“Cheer me on?”
Family support was key for going pro overseas. We'd just met yesterday, but her warmth reminded me of my parents'. Her cheers might give me that extra push.
“Wh-what? Outta nowhere.”
Face flushing, Luna bolted from her seat. Kid was embarrassed to admit cheering family outright.
And that evening, at family dinner with everyone gathered...
I declared:
“I'm going overseas.”