Manchester City Preseason Triumph: Perfect Prep Before the New Season

Just as the article said, I shut out every pre-season opponent after the Liverpool match—and proved I could be Manchester City's new last line of defense.

"Ha… still, that Liverpool game was just so unfair."

The moment came back in perfect, infuriating detail. A ball struck by a Liverpool midfielder. I had dived the right way. It was a save I could have made—should have made—if it hadn't cannoned off the striker's backside and deflected into the exact opposite corner from the one I'd chosen.

Come on. That was just the universe trolling me.

Everything else, though, had been flawless. Bournemouth, Leicester City—clean sheets, both of them. And the manager seemed to have made up his mind: I was his number one now, ahead of Ederson.

Ederson felt it too. He'd been walking around all day with that deflated look on his face.

He would have read the room the same way I had. I started every pre-season match. He sat on the bench for all of them.

Objectively, Ederson was still a goalkeeper good enough to play in the Premier League. His only problem was that his competition for the shirt happened to be me.

"Hahaha. I really am just that good."

The laugh burst out of me without warning, and Sanchez and Guerrero both turned to stare.

"Tae-woo, why are you suddenly laughing?"

"Hey, Tae-woo—have you finally lost it?"

If anyone was wondering why the three of us were even together: we were at Castillo's place, a little get-together for the guys around the same age. Bonding. Team chemistry. That sort of thing.

And Castillo? He was in the kitchen. He'd insisted on cooking.

There is, if we are being honest, only so much footballers can do when they pile into someone's house. Once you get a bunch of guys in a room, it was always going to end in video games.

"All right, Tae-woo. I'm not losing this time."

Guerrero said it like he meant it.

"Guerrero. You can't beat me. I've told you that."

I grinned as I answered.

Foreigners call Koreans a nation of gamers, and our reputation is not undeserved. Before we even kicked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off, Guerrero had that trademark smirk on his face, calling himself the king of football games and looking at me like I was a free win.

As a Korean, I could not let that slide.

I didn't go easy. I played to win. The result, of course, was 4–0.

"How about that, Guerrero? That's Korean gaming for you."

He shook his head, looking genuinely offended by reality.

"I don't believe it. How can a video-game player even pull off skill moves like that?"

"Tae-woo, play me this time. I'll do better than Guerrero."

Guerrero bristled.

"What did you just say, Sanchez? I only lost because I was going easy. You think you can take me?"

Guerrero beat Sanchez, puffed himself back up, and challenged me again. Naturally, he still couldn't win.

"Argh! Why is my player so slow?!"

"Guerrero. That right there is the difference between you and me."

"This is insane!!!"

Right on cue, Castillo's voice floated in from the other room.

"Come on, lads! Food's ready!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

We all headed for the dining room—and the moment we saw what was on the table, the entire group froze.

"Holy shit. What is that?"

"Th-that is food, right?"

Is it too late to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠run?

The table was a museum of British culinary horror. Stargazy pie, fish heads and tails still staring up from the crust. A greyish mush of mashed peas. Something that looked like pressed duck, with chunks of meat and vegetables suspended in jelly. And, as a final insult, black pudding that looked like a slab of dark sausage from another planet.

It was more than enough to startle both the eyes and the nose.

Castillo surveyed his work with unmistakable pride.

"Right then. Enjoy the true taste of England!"

That was when it hit me. Britain was a country famous for terrible food. And Castillo was a true-blue Englishman.

Damn it. I should have figured that out sooner.

The truly frightening part was that Castillo was eating all of it with genuine pleasure.

Among all the new signings, I really am the only normal one.

I missed pineapple burgers. I'd gotten hooked on that flavor after Smith University and still ate them from time to time. Right now, I would have given anything for a dish that ordinary.

While Jung Tae-woo was locked in mortal combat with British cuisine at Manchester City, on the other side of the world his girlfriend, Jang Da-min, was facing a challenge of an entirely different kind.

In a practice studio in Seoul, Da-min stood before the mirror, running through the choreography one last time. As a member of the girl group Queendom, every nerve in her body was trained on the debut showcase just ahead.

"Da-min, shall we take it from the top once more?"

The choreographer's voice cut across the room.

"Yes. Let's go again."

The words had barely left her mouth before Queendom's debut track, First Crown, filled the studio.

A fierce, polished beat rolled through the floor, and Da-min's body moved with it as if the song had been written into her muscles. First Crown was all swaggering lyrics and an addictive melody, Queendom's ambition—to wear the crown and own the stage—woven through every bar.

Between the high-difficulty choreography and the soaring vocals, it was a brutally hard track. Nail it, though, and they would command attention from the very first performance.

There was debut-night tension in her eyes, and something else besides: the confidence of someone ready to take the world.

As the chorus of First Crown hit, Da-min's dancing climbed toward its peak. Sweat traced a line down her forehead, and her expression only grew sharper.

"Good—right there, make the eyes fierce! One, two, three!"

When the song ended, Da-min was so spent she simply collapsed onto the floor.

"Ha… ha… ha…"

Her ragged breathing filled the studio. The choreographer smiled.

"You've completely mastered it. As expected, Da-min. You were incredible."

She pushed herself up slowly and swept her sweat-soaked bangs off her forehead. Exhaustion and pride sat together on her face.

"Thank you, teacher."

She answered once she'd caught enough breath to speak.

"I still feel like there are parts that aren't there yet. If I just practice a little more…"

The choreographer shook her head.

"Don't overdo it. You're in peak condition right now. Holding on to that is what matters."

The studio door opened, and the manager stepped in.

"Da-min, that's it for practice today. I need to talk to you about something important."

"Something important?"

"Yeah. The rest of the members are already here, so come with me."

What is it?

Puzzled, Da-min got to her feet.

The other members of Queendom had already locked down the choreography and were pouring their hours into vocal work. As the group's main vocalist, Da-min had the singing cold—which was exactly why she had been investing extra time in making the demanding dance as clean as the vocals.

She followed the manager into the meeting room. The rest of Queendom was already gathered. Yuna, Mina, and Ji-min sat waiting, tension written across their faces.

"All right, everyone's here. I've got big news."

Jang Da-min took a seat and traded a look with the others.

"It's good news. Queendom's debut date is confirmed."

Da-min felt her heart kick into a sprint.

"You'll have your debut stage in exactly one week. Music shows, the showcase—the whole schedule is locked in."

Joy and nerves flickered across the members' faces at the same time.

"Wow… finally…"

"Are we… really ready?"

Mina asked it carefully.

The manager answered with a warm smile.

"Of course you are. You're more than ready. It's time to show the world who Queendom is."

Ji-min shot to her feet.

"We can do this! Do you know how hard we've worked for this?"

Da-min nodded.

"She's right. We really have given it everything."

Watching them, the manager smiled and made a suggestion.

"Shall we do a fighting cheer, all of us together?"

The members looked at one another and nodded. They formed a circle and stacked their hands in the middle.

"One, two, three!"

"Queendom, fighting!"

Their voices came together as one and rang through the meeting room—still taut with nerves, and full of hope.