Famous in London
“You're really a famous person in London.”
“I don't want to fight with you either, oppa. I just wanted to meet Hero today and tell him I'd misunderstood him.”
“Daniel. What's gotten into you? You're not the type to ever admit you're wrong. Did they brainwash you at that French school or something?”
Paul sneered as he munched on a lucky mince pie. Do they teach Brits to sarcasm like that in school? He nailed it with just his tone.
“Yeah. All the soccer people I've met so far were ignorant, violent idiots who think kicking a ball around is the most important thing in the world. But Hero was different. He was polite when we talked, really understanding. He got my piano playing and didn't even bring up soccer once. I've never met a guy like that.”
“...”
Paul set down his pie and stared at me intently, his face screaming, What the hell did you do to my little sister!?
Then he fired a venomous barb at his sister.
“Daniel. Listen up. That classical music you think makes you so superior? It's about to go extinct. Like dinosaurs turning into fossils. But the English soccer you look down on? It's evolving, becoming a global industry. Classical music's an outdated relic that should've been locked in a museum ages ago. Now it's just a playground for Asia's nouveau riche. You even said it yourself last time—music school is full of Eastern kids, and it pisses you off.”
“Oppa. Why bring that up now?”
“I'm talking reality, Daniel. Get your head out of your ass. What you're doing isn't some grand art.”
Clap—clap—clap—
Liz clapped three times, halting the siblings' bickering.
“It's a nice day like today, and we have a guest who's come from afar. Can't you both stop?”
“Fine. But I need to make one thing clear. Our family has never had a happy Christmas. Not once. It's always been fights and arguments because of that damn soccer.”
“Daniel.”
Liz shot her a glare, and Daniel stormed off to her room.
Ah, hate this vibe.
“I'll head up too. Merry Christmas~”
“Alright. It was fun today, Hero. Merry Christmas~”
I bolted upstairs to the second floor. Once I shut the door and flopped onto the bed, I finally relaxed.
“What a sweet and bittersweet night...”
The Daniel I'd met today was a dazzlingly beautiful girl, but she carried wounds in her heart. Seemed like soccer had caused family issues when she was young. Her parents' divorce was probably tied to it too. Among the hardcore West Ham fans I'd met since joining, plenty had family problems because of soccer. It was a kind of soccer obsession that turned ugly when mixed with booze and violence. Sad, but I didn't want to meddle in someone else's family drama.
“Ah, whatever. I just wanna hit practice tomorrow.”
I tossed and turned for a while before finally drifting off.
Christmas morning. I got up, prepped for training, and headed downstairs. It was 8 a.m., and Paul was already gone to the office. The club cafeteria was closed today, so I planned to grab breakfast at home, but Liz caught me.
“Hero~ You're not heading to training today, are you?”
“Yeah. No real plans, and it's my daily routine anyway.”
“Even on Christmas? That's too much...”
“I'm not here on vacation in London.”
I flashed Liz a grin, hoping she'd let me go.
“Hero. It's important to enjoy the culture of the country where you work. It's Christmas. Just for today, hang out with our Daniel a bit. She's been down since yesterday, and I'm worried. She's home for once...”
“...”
Creeeak—
Daniel cracked her door open, peeking to see how I'd respond. Those mysterious blue eyes softened my resolve again.
“Sure. We'll go for a walk, grab some food.”
“Thank you, Hero.”
And just like that, I ended up spending Christmas alone with Daniel. She followed me out, pretending to be reluctant. Her chic wool coat and boots matched her bright blonde hair perfectly.
“Whoa~ You look all dressed up pretty.”
“Like you've stepped out of a fairy tale.”
I hadn't expected much, but strolling through central London with its dazzling Christmas decorations and lights lifted my spirits. The Christmas market along the Thames felt like a cozy medieval village from a storybook. Cute little shops and all sorts of street food made it fun to browse. We bought cashmere scarves for Emma and Liz, scarfed down German hot dogs from a stall. Sipping hot mulled wine warmed us up inside and out. Daniel's pale cheeks flushed peach-pink.
“First time. I've never felt this at ease since coming to England.”
“Me too. In France, I was always tense... Today feels peaceful.”
She sipped her warm wine, gazing at the passersby. Couples, families, friends. Her eyes lingered on a father and his little daughter. The cute girl clutched her dad's hand, walking blissfully happy.
“A peaceful Christmas like this? First time.”
“What happened when you were little?”
“Tons of problems. My dad was the leader of a West Ham firm. You know what a firm is, right?”
“Yeah.”
A firm was a violent gang of soccer hooligans. West Ham's was considered the toughest in England. Just play soccer well, damn it.
“Christmas period, with all the big games? Our house turned into hell. Dad and his thug crew roamed around causing trouble, cops showed up at home to arrest him... Mom argued with the police... Dad came back drunk, fought with Mom... Christmas was a nightmare for me.”
“I see.”
“On days West Ham lost, Dad came home wasted, smashing stuff and raging. I had severe anxiety, ended up in a psych ward. Mom finally divorced him. We fled to France to escape Dad.”
Her behavior made sense now.
“Paul's impressive too. Going through that as a kid and still working for the club.”
“Paul really loves West Ham. Not like those thugs who use team loyalty as an excuse for violence. He's hardworking and capable—everyone at the club likes him.”
“Heh. Good to hear.”
We walked silently along the Thames for a while. As dusk fell, Christmas lights flickered on one by one, turning the surroundings magical.
Squeeze—
Daniel hooked her arm in mine. She trusted me now. I could feel her heartbeat through my arm.
“How do you play so beautifully?”
“Simple. Play piano 10 hours a day for 10 years straight. The key? Don't just play what you're good at—practice what you suck at until you nail it.”
“Sounds like soccer. Ah, sorry. Comparing piano to soccer.”
“... No. It's fine.”
Daniel's voice softened.
“You trained a ton too, right? Becoming a pro at your age isn't easy.”
“Yeah, as much as anyone. Like you said, it's not repeating strengths—it's grinding weaknesses until they become strengths.”
“Hehe. That's why we click.”
She leaned into me more. We looked like a young couple now. Passersby glanced our way. Fair enough—a magazine-model blonde beauty arm-in-arm with a bulky Asian guy in a puffer jacket. British guys couldn't hide their envy.
But beauties attract swarms. A pack of thugs approached, beers in hand, slinking closer. Total hooligan vibe—Daniel's nightmare.
“Ni hao~ Bruce Lee~”
“This Asian dude's got game. How'd you snag such a pretty girl? Rich Chinese kid?”
“You know you can't strut like this in our neighborhood?”
Six of them surrounded us. Three were wasted on booze or whatever, looking rough.
I shielded Daniel and scanned for cops first. Banned from games, I couldn't risk trouble outside.
But then—
“Hey. Wait. You're... West Ham's Hero?”
“Yeah! No way! The beanie threw us off! It's our Hero!”
They recognized me and flipped. One pulled a West Ham scarf from his coat.
“Hero! Sorry we didn't recognize you. We'll apologize. Rest up for Boxing Day, smash the next game. Thanks for this season.”
“Ah. Thanks for the support.”
“Any troublemakers around? Tell us.”
“... Yeah. Will do.”
I patted them down gently and sent them off. Daniel burst out laughing in disbelief.
“Hahaha. Hilarious. You're really a famous person in London.”
“Guess so.”
I exhaled, steadying my surprised heart. Unexpected twist, but no problem—no harm done.
“Haven't been out in central London much since arriving. Just stadium, training ground, home loop. Guess my profile's risen without me noticing.”
“Same here. Haven't even seen the Louvre in Paris. School, home, venue rinse and repeat. Not as famous as you, though. Hehe.”
Daniel gave a wry smile. Seemed like issues with her French music school life, but I didn't pry. She'd open up when ready.
“Thanks for playing for our team this season. No pressure, but help us get promoted, Hero. I'll cheer for you!”
“You're a fantastic player. You revived my passion for soccer. Thank you!”
Even on the way home that evening, fans recognized me and asked for autographs. More in the east end. Impressively polite. I felt West Ham fans' desperation. To them, West Ham was their soul's home—trapped in purgatory of the second division. I was the savior from the East come to redeem their souls.
Daniel must've felt it too.
“... So many decent West Ham fans.”
She murmured, then made an unexpected proposal.
“Hero. Mind if I watch tomorrow's game with you?”
“Wanna go to Boleyn Ground?”
“Yeah. Got something I wanna check out.”
“Alright. I'll get tickets.”
And so, Daniel and I ended up together again for Boxing Day on the 26th.