The Queen of K-Pop’s Teasing Smile and a Late-Night Wake-Up

The announcer's voice sent a roar rolling through the stadium.

Watching Yoo Hee-sung climb the podium and take the trophy, the seniors around us started murmuring.

"Wow. We won, and Tae-woo even scored the last goal..."

Landing MVP would have unlocked an achievement, but there was nothing I could do about it. Awards like this almost always went to the attackers anyway.

"Shit, that's so close. Hey, you should've come out one more time and stuck in another goal. Then you'd definitely have been MVP."

"Tae-yang, if you'd just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keep your mouth shut..."

I stared straight at Lee Tae-yang's face.

"Hmm... never mind. Even if you leave it open... probably about the same?"

"Hey. Hey. What's that supposed to mean?"

"………"

"I said what does that mean?!"

I ignored Tae-yang without a second thought and focused on Yoo Hee-sung's acceptance speech.

For a beat the stadium went dead quiet — then it exploded into laughter.

"Ah... that guy's actually insane."

"Puhahaha."

I couldn't hold it in. The laugh burst out of me while I stared at my phone.

Ah. The face worship I'd never even dreamed of in my Kim Chan-ki days, plus all these thirsty comments on top of it... so this was what popularity looked like when you were actually handsome?

"Hey, Jung Tae-woo."

"Man, these comments are actually hilarious."

"Hey, Jung Tae-woo!!"

"What? Can't you see I'm looking at my phone?"

"I don't care that you're on your phone. Why did you come all the way into someone else's class — and sit in my seat — to do it?"

"Come on, we're childhood friends. Don't be so petty."

Jang Da-min. Our families had been close since we were little, and we'd grown up together, so from the perspective of someone carrying Jung Tae-woo's memories, she was a genuinely easy friend to be around.

"Haa... seriously."

Da-min sat down in the empty seat beside me like she'd given up, and I stared at her.

She really was pretty. Short black hair, fair skin, features as delicate as a doll's.

I still don't get why Jung Tae-woo didn't date Da-min and married someone else instead.

"Why are you staring like that?"

"Because you're pretty?"

"Are you sick? Stop talking nonsense and go back to your own class!"

"Lee Tae-yang's over there. It's way too loud. Oh, right — you got anything after school?"

"I have to go to practice."

"Aigoo, they don't even give you days off over there?"

"Your sister's schedule is the same as mine, so you already know roughly."

"How would I know my little sister's schedule?"

Da-min took one look at my face and shook her head.

There's no older brother on earth who actually knows his little sister's schedule. That's what she's thinking.

"Yeah, that tracks for you. Stop bothering me now. I'm going to draw."

Da-min's family had been Manchester City fans for generations, so she'd become a City fan as naturally as breathing. On top of that, drawing was her hobby. She'd loved it since she was little, and she used to sketch soccer players all the time.

"Hey. I'm better at soccer than the guys you've got on that page. Just draw me."

"You're saying you're better than Manchester City players?"

Looking at the sheer disbelief on her face, I nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Did you not see my super play in the final? Wasn't it cool?"

"Aigoo. Even if City's form is bad lately, they're Premier League players. You think that's the same as a high school tournament?"

"Then if I go to Manchester City, will you draw me?"

"Huh?"

She looked so flustered I said it again.

"If I go to Manchester City, will you draw me?"

"You don't even like City."

"That's not true. I'm a City fan."

"Since when?"

"Hmm... starting just now?"

"Hey!"

Da-min tapped my arm and laughed, and I laughed with her.

"I'm kidding. I really am a City fan."

"Fine, I get it, so stop talking nonsense and get back to your class. Class starts in one minute."

"Okay, okay. But if I actually go to City, you'll draw me, right?"

"Fine. If you go to Manchester City I'll draw you a lot, so please vanish back to your class, Mr. Jung Tae-woo."

"That's a promise!"

I grinned, stood up, and headed for my own classroom.

"Are you two actually dating?"

"I told you, we're not."

Da-min's voice drifted after me as she talked with her friend, and it pulled a small smile onto my face.

Another reason to go to Manchester City. I was going anyway — but if my pretty childhood friend was a City fan, well.

I ran. It didn't matter. The math teacher was already in the middle of class.

I peeked through the window, then tried to slip in as quietly as possible through the back door...

Scrape—

"Who's there?"

"Ahahaha, teacher, I really had to use the bathroom..."

"Well, well. If it isn't Jung Tae-woo, the star of our final."

"Ah, so you watched my match. It's a little embarrassing to say it myself, but yes — I am indeed Jung Tae-woo, the man who scored that spectacular winner and the iron-wall keeper who didn't concede a single goal."

The whole class burst out laughing.

"Hahahaha!"

"Alright, alright. Quiet."

The math teacher tapped the blackboard.

"Since you're Jung Tae-woo, the pride of Poongwol High, I'll forgive you for being late."

If you're good-looking, you get perks like th—

"On one condition! You solve this problem."

The board he pointed at was covered in a tangled geometry diagram. I walked slowly up to the front and looked it over.

"I can tell you have absolutely no idea, so I'll specially teach you the formula."

He started explaining.

"This part goes like this, and using that angle..."

I knew English, and this wasn't that. French, maybe?

To my ears, the math teacher's Korean had stopped being Korean at all. It was a foreign language.

"Alright, now solve it... aigoo. Looking at your face, you didn't understand a single thing."

"That's correct, teacher!"

"Well. I like the confidence. Since you're on the soccer team, I'll let it slide. Sit down."

"I'm sorry!!"

I apologized and carefully took my seat.

"Hey. You went to Da-min's class again, didn't you?"

I was on the soccer team, so I'd be fine. For the sake of everyone else's study atmosphere, I took Tae-yang's nonsense and the teacher's foreign language as a lullaby and went under in seconds.

"Hey, Jung Tae-woo. Get up."

Someone was shaking me awake. I opened my eyes and found a man who looked exactly like Coach standing over me.

"What. You look just like Coach."

"Yeah. I am your coach."

Coach's voice cut through the fog. I rubbed my eyes and tried to put my brain back together.

"Huh? Why's Coach in our classroom... I'm pretty sure today's a rest day."

On the bus ride back after the win, Coach's delighted voice and the seniors' cheering were still vivid.

"Kids, this is to celebrate the championship. Training's off until Wednesday!"

"NICEEEE!!!"

Coach coming all the way to class on a rest day... what was this?

"There's someone who wants to meet you, so I came to get you, you brat."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

Who?

An agency? I definitely didn't have one yet...

Wait. Coach was using honorifics. And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if this was right after the tournament, it was 2036... Olympic year.

Don't tell me the Olympic coach was here?

In the novel, Jung Tae-woo hadn't been selected for the Olympics. A butterfly effect from the championship team changing?

But this Olympics, they crashed out of the qualifiers. And not just crashed out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— they got demolished.

A manager with coaching experience in Germany had been appointed for this cycle, which had gotten readers' hopes up, only for extreme attacking tactics to leak goals by the bucket and dump them out of qualifying.

When he first showed up he seemed like someone with something going on, but they got eliminated so miserably that readers called the chapter a slog and roasted him alive.

I followed Coach into the soccer team's office.

A giant of a man — a hundred and ninety centimeters, a thick head of curly hair, a black suit — was smiling at me.

"Nice to meet you."