Making a Baby
The match ended amid an indescribable, faraway feeling.
The commentator's voice announcing Barcelona's victory reached my ears, and within that sound, joy and sorrow crossed paths.
The AC Milan players, forced to settle for runners-up, hung their heads in despair. Having let the Champions League title slip away right in front of them, they would be reeling from the shock for some time to come.
"I even bought a display case…"
The AC Milan owner had been so certain of victory that he had purchased a trophy cabinet in advance. Of course he had—he had truly believed Milan would lift the cup.
"No matter how good Barcelona's recent form has been, they were never going to beat us."
Barcelona's best eleven had been nothing to sneeze at, true enough, but Milan's starting lineup boasted the world's best player at every single position. Yet the result had ended in Barcelona's triumph. The Milan owner's prediction had been dead wrong.
While the AC Milan owner sat stunned, the atmosphere among the Barcelona players could not have been better.
"I won the Champions League?!"
Messi still wore a dazed expression at the unbelievable achievement, but a smile quickly spread across his face.
"Hmm. Seeing you this happy makes me think we should just keep winning it from now on."
Ronaldinho appeared behind the delighted Messi and spoke, and Messi's face lit up even more at the words.
"That would be amazing!"
Watching the two of them from the side, I wore a peculiar expression. A thought had struck me—perhaps in this world line where I had come to Barcelona, they might end up winning more Champions League titles than Real Madrid.
Lee Junho's thought had a surprising chance of becoming reality.
In the original history, where he had never intervened, Real Madrid would go on to set an unmatched record of fifteen Champions League titles by 2024. But this was still 2005. Real Madrid's Champions League count stood at only nine. Of course, even that was a record no other club could touch—yet to Junho, who had seen Real's future, it did not feel like that many.
They've only won it nine times so far? Hmm. If we keep winning the Champions League from here on out, maybe overtaking Real isn't completely out of the question.
To pull that off, Barcelona would need to win the Champions League at least seven more times. With this victory, they now had two titles total. Seven more would put them level with Real; eight would push them past. Of course, that calculation only held if Real Madrid did not add any more titles of their own.
We just have to win the Champions League every year from now on, right?
This season's Barcelona had achieved the Treble. They had already locked up the league title early, and they had claimed the Copa del Rey as well. With the Champions League victory just secured, the Treble was complete.
After the match, a brief wait gave way to the awards ceremony. First, the runners-up from AC Milan climbed the podium and shook hands.
"Well done."
"Yeah."
Serginho answered the UEFA official half-heartedly. He could not get his emotions under control.
Ah…
The thought that his own missed chance had cost them the match would not leave him. Serginho's face was grim.
I'm such a fucking idiot. How did I hit the post from there? If I'd just hit it a little softer…
Serginho was drowning in regret. Still, the ceremony continued. Once every Milan player had come down, the Barcelona players began climbing the steps one by one.
And now, the Barcelona players will take the podium!
I was among the Barcelona players who climbed the podium. As I ascended the steps, Lee Junho felt a rush of emotion unlike anything before. He had never imagined he would win the Champions League like this.
I won the Champions League?
A guy who had played in Korea's K League—and not even the first division, but the second-rate K League 2—winning the Champions League was something that simply should not have been possible.
I was standing there in a daze, briefly disconnected from reality, when the official slipped the medal around my neck. Reality snapped back into focus. The certainty of what I had accomplished flooded through me, and I felt that every effort along the way had not been in vain.
Amid all those tangled thoughts, every Barcelona player received a medal. Now it was time to lift the trophy.
Ronaldinho approached us carrying the Champions League cup, and every one of us watched him with pure excitement. The moments it took him to walk over felt both fleeting and endless, and then he was standing right in front of us. On the signal, he heaved his body and hoisted the trophy high.
"Waaaaaaaaah!"
The Barcelona players roared with joy. The fans watching them wore proud, contented smiles. The AC Milan players and their supporters, meanwhile, furrowed their brows. Amid that whirlwind of conflicting emotions, Lee Junho simply stood there smiling.
The next day arrived.
Still riding the dopamine high from the Champions League win, Lee Junho had, of course, spent the evening with his childhood friend Park Jieun—and he was feeling the aftermath right now.
"Ah… that was too much. Five times? Last night broke every limit I had."
Junho cast his mind back to the night before.
How is it, Master?
Whoa.
Unable to resist Jieun's temptation in that maid outfit, Junho had let out a gasp of wonder and started to get up—only for her to stop him.
You must be exhausted after today, so let me take care of everything!
She had bowed her head and taken him into her mouth. At first he had held out, but in the end the teasing pleasure had been too much. He had lunged for her. After five rounds, the two of them had collapsed from exhaustion and fallen asleep at the same time. It was already late morning when Junho finally woke.
I got up first and looked at Jieun's sleeping profile.
She's beautiful.
Even asleep she was lovely. I pulled the blanket that had slipped down back up over her, then slipped out of bed. "Mmm… where are you going, Junho…" she mumbled in her sleep, still looking for me. Smiling, I left the room, went downstairs, and headed for the kitchen. I was starving.
My mother, Ju Seohyun, was already there.
"Sleep well?"
"Yeah."
It was the same conversation we always had, but Mom's expression made it clear she knew exactly what I had been up to last night.
"Thanks for the meal."
She did not actually bring up the previous night while we ate. She had probably gotten used to it by now.
"So when are you thinking?"
For a second my brain short-circuited, then I got it moving again.
"Thinking about what?"
I asked carefully, in case she meant something else entirely.
"Having a baby."
My guess had been right.
"Hmm… I don't think we need to rush that."
That was what I said, but the truth was I was scared. In my previous life I had been born an orphan and never known a parent's love. In this life I had been blessed with wonderful parents who had showered me with affection—but I still was not sure I could do the same. Of course, if we had a child, both Jieun and I would give it everything we had. Even so, I felt it was still too soon. We were only eighteen.
Sure, back in Joseon times eighteen would have meant kids already, but I lived in the modern world. And because the first place I had ever been born was Korea, the idea of having a child at an age that still counted as high school carried a faint resistance. Age was not really the issue—as long as you were not fifteen or younger, having a baby was perfectly fine. It was just the values left over from my previous life dragging their feet.
"Still, Mom wants to see one as soon as possible."
"I'll try."
After finishing the conversation with Mom, I sank into thought.
What happens if we have a kid now?
Money was no issue at all. I myself was a regressor and a reincarnator who never had to worry about finances.
Housing solves itself, then.
With enough money, a place to live was never a concern.
So the only thing left is whether I can actually handle being a parent.
Jieun would be fine—I was sure of it. Everything I had seen of her since we were little, and the person she was now, told me she had more than enough heart to be a wonderful mother.
So the real question is me.
In the end, it came down to me—whether I could properly fill the role of a father. And that was not something I could settle just by thinking about it.
I opened the bedroom door. Jieun was already awake. At first glance her expression looked the same as always, but she had known me for so long that she read the worry on my face at once.
"Is something on your mind?"
She asked carefully. I hesitated for a moment over whether to tell her, then decided I would.
"Yeah. If we had a kid, I'm worried I wouldn't be a good parent."
Jieun looked at me as if that was the silliest thing she had ever heard, then spoke.
"The Lee Junho I've known all this time can absolutely be a good parent. I, Park Jieun—your childhood friend of eighteen years—guarantee it."
Her answer made every ounce of worry I had been carrying feel completely foolish.
"So you don't need to think like that…"
Feeling grateful to the girl who had just untangled my thoughts, I slowly walked toward her.
"Huh? Why are you coming closer all of a sudden? Wait—hold on, we did so much yesterday and you're already—?"
With my worries gone, I decided right then and there that we were going to make a baby.
"Let's do it raw today."
"Huh?"
Understanding exactly what I meant, Jieun's face flushed bright red.
"Okay."
And so Jieun and I got to work on making a baby.