A Savior in the Abyss
After returning to college, I fell in love with a girl.
She was always smiling brightly, possessing a charm that felt like a beach on a summer day. I knew she was out of my league, but I couldn't easily give up on this feeling of love, the first I had ever known.
— "Hmm... I really like guys who sing well!"
And as it happened, singing was my strong suit.
Professional styling consultations, working out to manage my physical appearance, and finally, vocal training to put on the finishing touches. I had no choice but to break my savings account. I spent a whopping two years preparing, and everything was absolutely perfect.
— "I'm sorry... I like manly guys. You're... just too pretty."
It took only a single sentence.
That was all it took to brutally butcher the first love of my life.
After that day, I lost track of how many days I spent crying and drinking the nights away.
They say artists overcome their sorrow by sublimating it into creation.
Feeling like I might actually die if I kept this bottled up, I poured all my emotions into writing a song and uploaded it to YouTube, hoping to share and ease my grief.
The result? 5.5 million views.
It was a result beyond my wildest dreams.
To be honest, my main motivation was that I just didn't want to go back to school anymore, but that video became the catalyst for me to accidentally stumble into the entertainment industry.
— "Hmm... Your technique is good, but your vocal color is a bit... You're really going to have to work hard."
That was what the vocal trainer assigned by my agency told me.
In truth, that 5.5-million-view video had been a fluke—a performance at the absolute limit of my potential, far exceeding my usual capabilities.
But if you lack talent, shouldn't you at least make up for it with effort?
I practically lived in the practice room.
To compensate for my lackluster vocal color, I studied and practiced every singing style, technique, and vocalization method under the sun.
By the time my trainer nicknamed me the "practice room ghost," my album containing my songs was finally released.
Perhaps my efforts had paid off, because the results and public reception weren't bad for a first attempt. Since the momentum from my self-composed song on YouTube was still going strong, I even received plenty of invitations to perform at events.
Back then, I truly believed my era of suffering was finally over and a rosy future was beginning.
— "You have vocal cord nodules. Your vocal cords are congenitally very weak. Even if you rest for about a year, the probability of recurrence is extremely high."
It took only three sentences.
That was all it took for my life to crash down.
— "What's wrong with his voice? Sounds like he's spitting phlegm."
— "Seriously, what was the student council thinking, inviting a guy like this to the festival?"
Canceling the already booked events was impossible due to the massive penalty fees. Consequently, my image plummeted into a bottomless abyss.
As the backlash escalated into targeted harassment on my social media and music streaming pages, my agency made a decision.
Before I could even finish half of the scheduled events, they decided to cancel the rest entirely, swallowing the penalty fees themselves.
Before I even turned thirty, I was saddled with 500 million won in debt.
On the day that decision was made, I was preparing to leave this world behind.
They say even a dying ghost looks better if it's well-fed.
For my final meal on earth, I craved my favorite spicy stir-fried pork, so I went to a diner near my agency that I used to frequent.
At the very edge of that despair, I met that "dwarf."
Playing on the diner's TV was the final match of the 2022 Qatar World Cup.
— "Wow... Messi finally won the World Cup."
— "Tell me about it. The world really isn't fair. Only geniuses can pull that off. No matter how hard talentless hacks run, they'll never even reach his ankles."
— "Hey, shut it. If he won just because he's a genius, anyone could've done it. He's a guy who almost ruined his career due to a growth hormone deficiency as a kid, but he endured by injecting himself in the leg every single day."
I couldn't understand what the people in the diner were saying. A player whose name even a soccer-illiterate like me had heard of, a player who had just won the World Cup—talent wasn't everything for him?
— "That's ridiculous."
I quickly finished my pork and returned home.
Normally, I would have hanged myself right away, but the diner patrons' words kept nagging at me.
— "Fine. Let's see what kind of guy he actually is."
Search: [Leona Messi]
Even after several hours passed, I couldn't tear myself away from the computer screen.
Strangely, I saw myself overlapping with that man's life.
Messi's childhood diagnosis of growth hormone deficiency mirrored my lackluster vocal color and congenitally weak vocal cords.
Messi's temporary retirement after failing to win the 2016 national team tournament mirrored my diagnosis of vocal cord nodules.
Messi being forced out of his beloved childhood club in 2021 mirrored my own situation—ruining performances due to vocal nodules, having events canceled, and being forced to pay massive penalty fees.
— "Even a genius like him faced such massive trials..."
I felt like an idiot for trying to give up so easily when I was just an ordinary person.
I resolved to live diligently once more.
In the end, the man whom some mockingly called the "little dwarf" had rescued me from the abyss of death.
"What a complete piece of trash."
Guto.
Originally a derogatory term for Lionel Messi's toxic online fans, it had now expanded to refer to Messi fans in general, used heavily by the Jeonnins.
For context, a Jeonnin was the Cristiano Ronaldo equivalent of a Guto.
Ever since the day Messi saved me from the brink of death, I became the ultimate Guto.
If Lu Bu was the greatest among men, and Red Hare was the greatest among steeds, then I was undoubtedly the greatest among Gutos.
After falling head over heels for Messi, I got into overseas soccer, and posting on the General Football Gallery—popularly known as the "Gen-Foot Gallery"—became my sole hobby.
If there were two factions dividing the Gen-Foot Gallery, they were indisputably the Gutos and the Jeonnins.
Today, as always, I was engaged in a keyboard battle, using flawless logic to crush the Jeonnins who dared to slander my one and only god, Messi.
The only difference from usual was that I had run into an exceptionally persistent bastard, and our online war had already been raging for twelve hours.
Thank goodness it wasn't a weekday.
"You... you logicless piece of shit!!!!!!"
The back of my neck flared with heat, and my vision blurred into a hazy white. Was sitting in this chair for twelve hours straight the trigger?
"I still have 300 million won left on my debt..."
With those final words, my head slammed onto the keyboard, and I collapsed.
Perhaps my devout faith in Messi had been recognized by the heavens.
I was reincarnated. And with my memories completely intact, no less.
My name was Han Se-ah. A girl born in the year 2000.
If I had been born a boy, I would have become a soccer player just to meet Messi, so that part was a bit of a shame.
Today was the opening day of the 2002 World Cup.
Normally, it would be my bedtime, and drowsiness was washing over me, but I dragged myself out to the living room anyway.
I hadn't been able to watch it in my past life, so now that I was reincarnated, I absolutely had to see this.
"Wow... do you think our country can make it to the quarterfinals this time?"
"As if. Oh! Se-ah, aren't you sleepy?"
My mom and dad were already sitting in front of the TV.
But on the TV screen, something entirely different from a soccer match was unfolding.
"I-dol...?"
My underdeveloped vocal organs managed to squeeze out a single word.
The top-left corner of the broadcast screen clearly read "World Cup," so why on earth were idols performing, singing, and dancing on stage?
"Bwahaha! I didn't know our Se-ah was interested in idols!"
"Oh, hush! Don't say things like that. Have you forgotten what happened to my father?"
Right, I recalled hearing that my maternal grandfather had ruined the family fortune trying to make it in the performing arts.
Anyway, the broadcast continued.
Once the performance ended, the commentators began to chatter.
— "Wow, Poland's performance was absolutely dominant. Still, I believe our national team can pull through."
— "Personally, I'm keeping my eyes on Park Ji-hyun! This idol is currently active in Kyoto Sanga IC."
Wait, Kyoto Sanga? Last name Park?
Could it be the legendary Manchester United player I knew from my past life? And what was this about a transfer? Why were they talking about an idol transferring as if they were a soccer player?
It would make sense if the worlds of soccer and idols had been completely swapped when I reincarnated, but there was no way that could be true.
Yet, that lingering doubt turned into absolute certainty by the time the World Cup ended.
Because South Korea actually made it all the way to the semifinals of the World Cup.
Just like in my past life. But above all, the most shocking part was...
Zinedine Zidane had become Zinedina Zidane.
Ronaldinho had become Ronaldinha.
The male soccer players of my past life had become female idols in this one. It was enough to make a dead man spin in his grave.
Wait.
If that was the case, then my idol, my life, my savior, Messi, must be one too.
Perfect. This was the moment to put the singing skills I had painstakingly honed in my past life to good use.
In this life, I was going to become a female idol.
I was going to Barcelona, where Leona Messi was.