I'm a Midfielder - 2

The second half kicked off, but after switching to striker, the game didn't go my way at all.

The passes from those dumb midfielders were all garbage, and the opponent's cheap fouls were grinding my nerves.

Do these bastards not know how to play soccer without fouling?

I lamented my fate as if I'd forgotten that I'd yanked the head of the Yonsei Industrial University striker back in the first half when he was about to shoot.

Of course it was natural. My foul was a brilliant move, while theirs were petty, narrow-minded, and utterly dishonorable.

And besides, that was midfielder Son Jinho's doing, wasn't it? Striker Son Jinho was innocent.

"Argh—! This one's not going in either!"

After blasting a shot into the air in a one-on-one with the keeper, I shook my head hard to vent my frustration.

This time, the keeper's ugly mug had thrown me off—my body tensed up, and the ball floated high.

Cheating by messing with my shot with that face?

After blowing eight chances to the wind thanks to Yonsei Industrial University's dirty play, the coach pulled me from striker back to midfielder, seeing I couldn't do shit up there.

I'm a midfielder!

Back in midfield, I muttered my mantra right away. Strangely, peace washed over my tense, burdened mind.

"Hoo—!"

Was it because of that calm? Not long after dropping back, I recreated a scene like my first goal and bagged a multi-goal brace.

"Hoo—!"

Right before the final whistle, a sneaky long-range shot from outside the box sealed a hat-trick.

The bench exploded at my badass performance.

"Let me go! That fucker really rebelled, I tell you!"

"The press is here, Coach! Calm down!"

I turned at the commotion from the bench and gave a thumbs-up to the coach, who was tap-dancing with the assistant in glee.

Snap!

Suddenly, the coach clutched his neck and collapsed.

Huh? What's his deal?

I only figured out why after the match ended and I'd done interviews with the reporters.

"You little shit! If you didn't wanna play striker, just say so—don't fucking rebel!"

His face red with rage, I had to explain at length to the coach that it wasn't rebellion: what "I'm a midfielder" really meant.

"...Is this good mentality or just shameless?"

"So, that time you whiffed the shot and didn't even signal sorry—that was for this reason too?"

The U-19 teammates' glares cooled, but I stood tall.

"Obviously. I'm a midfielder!"

"..."

What? Never seen Korea's top brawling midfielder before?

The day after my perfect performance against Yonsei Industrial University.

- People talk shit without knowing jack!

Gyeowol was whining on the phone, probably after seeing some weird article online. Her mom said she wasn't studying like she should and was glued to her smartphone all day—worried sick. Looked like Gyeowol's phone was getting downgraded to 2G soon.

"Gyeowol, your mom's sharpening the knife..."

As I tried to warn her, her gloomy, cowering voice came through.

- Jinho... just checking.

- Am I bothering your soccer?

- Nah, right? Not bothering, yeah?

She must've seen the comments and gotten worked up.

- ...Am I really a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bother?

I wanted to tease her more, but her voice sounded ready to burst into tears, so I denied it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with all my heart.

"No way. I play soccer to impress you? If we break up, I'm quitting."

How could she be a bother? The girl I'd longed for all my past life. To me, just having her around, seeing her, made me smile and gave me strength.

- ...

At my sincere tone, she went quiet, embarrassed, then changed the subject.

- Oh yeah. Get hyped for Christmas! Sis has an awesome gift ready!?

Thankfully, my words got through—her energy shot up. Listening to her chatter happily, I smiled and said,

"Gyeowol. You're the special gift from heaven itself."

- ...Click.

The call dropped. Moments later, a chat from Father-in-Law.

I couldn't forgive even Father-in-Law calling Gyeowol "Godzilla," so I left his chat on read.

The final roster was set. I made it, naturally. A hat-trick against guys at least four years older? No way they cut me.

And as expected, I was the only high schooler from the preliminary list to make it.

"Congrats. Go all out and win it while you're there."

At the welcome party, the midfielder who'd eyed me warily before forced a smile past his disappointment and congratulated me.

"Thanks, hyung. I'll do my best to win."

"Yeah. And sorry about welcome party night—for real."

I watched his back as he left after apologizing again. Shaking off complacency, I vowed top performance.

It was just a youth friendly, but for some, a dream spot they'd kill for.

At minimum, to not shame those who'd bled for this, I'd shine in the tourney.

Still, eleven more days without Gyeowol felt daunting. She's in class now, huh...

Meanwhile, Han Gyeowol, fresh off a keyboard battle KO, was dropping comments on news articles, stealth-flexing.

Suddenly, a classmate popped in, and Gyeowol fled the article comments.

"Argh—! Not impersonating!!"

Strong only in cyber world, against Jinho, and her parents, Gyeowol teared up at the real-world intrusion—totally unfair.