National Tournament: Round of 32
...But I really can't afford to get hurt.
Once the rush of excitement settled, that was the first thought that crossed my mind. An overhead kick was a dangerous move by anyone's standards—a far cry from the promise I'd made to Jia noona that I wouldn't get injured.
...Whatever.
I scratched my head and focused on the rest of the match, silently hoping Jia noona wasn't too angry. And if she was, well—I'd just have to sweet-talk her out of it. The kick had looked pretty cool. Surely that earned me a free pass?
Fifteenth minute of the first half. Five minutes after the goal, two dedicated markers locked onto me. I'd grown used to it—the same thing happened every time I scored in practice matches or the preliminaries—so I took it in stride.
There's a gap.
No one is perfect, and football is no exception. No matter how tightly two players mark you, if they're watching both the ball and you at once, cracks inevitably appear. Unless a pro has already decided a player must be erased from the match entirely, it's only natural.
The result was that I wasn't isolated between the center-back and midfielder—I could see an opening.
Time to sell them a fake.
Using a clever angle of vision, I feinted as if dropping deep to receive the ball, then burst into the box.
"Get him!"
One of the midfielders, sensing I was up to something, came after me. Han Seonwoo, who had the ball, shaped as if to pass, and the center-back—eyes wide—closed on me as well. Space opened up on its own.
He's never going to pass it.
The motion was pure fake. No matter how much Seonwoo trusted me, he had his own creed when it came to passing.
Has to be over seventy-five percent.
At least a seventy-five percent chance the striker can actually receive the ball. Pure gut feeling, but surprisingly accurate. In my case he was a little more generous—probably because of all the trapping tricks I pulled—but as a general rule, that was how it worked. Seonwoo had almost certainly realized I hadn't made the run wanting the pass. If he had, he wouldn't have carried the ball forward himself.
Having dragged both the center-back and midfielder with me into the box, I planted my feet and shouted.
"Hey! Shoot!"
"I was already going to!"
Thump—!
From the completely vacated space, Han Seonwoo struck a mid-range shot with his left foot. The center-back who'd been holding his ground tried to close, but Seonwoo's strike was faster.
Thwack!
The ball, lacking a little power off the left foot, was parried by the diving keeper. A corner kick for Seongil High was awarded.
Grinning, I jogged over to Seonwoo.
"So my left foot's better than yours?"
"I'm a midfielder."
"Haha. Sure, sure. Go take the corner."
I hoped Seonwoo would keep growing as fast as the future kept changing. Then his finishing would improve, and I wouldn't have to hear that excuse anymore.
I glanced around. The opposing players stood dazed.
Looks like we shook them a little.
Fluid link-up play, every attack snuffed out by Do Woojun, defense grinding through by the skin of their teeth—of course they were rattled. I wiped the sweat with my jersey and took up a position near the box.
"If you don't put it in perfectly, no assist for you."
It wasn't that I didn't want to jump for it. Not at all.
First-half result: 2–0.
On one of the subsequent corner opportunities, Do Woojun found the net and stretched the lead further. I'd had a few chances of my own, but the opposing defense clamped down on me as if determined to prove exactly how they'd earned their place in the round of thirty-two. Fortunately Woojun seemed to have awakened as well, snuffing out every attack, and the half ended without any real tension.
"Haaah…"
"Yujin, can you keep going?"
Slumped in my chair, I must have looked rough enough that Coach asked with concern.
"Ah… I'm fine, sir."
It sounded like he was offering a substitution, but I really was fine.
I just thought of a way to score while running as little as possible.
A truly brilliant strategy had just lit up inside my head.
After a brief rest, the second half began.
Baek Yujin had told him not to worry, but Ryu Ilhae was still quietly fretting.
I never expected him to suffer the heat this badly…
The boy was an outstanding footballer. Tell him something once and he already knew it; he executed everything on his own, grasped concepts instantly, and was born with both sense and feel. The kind of talent that would write his name into the history of Korean football. The only catch was how badly he seemed to hate the heat—enough, almost, to dull even his love of the game. As if the gods, not wanting to be unfair, had at least made him sweat for his gifts.
And yet the fact that Baek Yujin kept running anyway was impressive for a seventeen-year-old high schooler.
There he is.
Seongil High had kicked off, so the ball was still circulating around their own defensive third. Baek Yujin's latest stunt began the moment Han Seonwoo dropped a little deeper to receive.
…Hmm?
Yujin checked his surroundings, then drifted all the way down into the attacking midfielder's zone. That much was fine—strikers dropped deep to collect the ball before they got isolated all the time. But then he started gesturing this way and that, personally directing where the next pass should go. The leisurely way he moved looked for all the world like a maestro conducting an orchestra.
"Huh."
Watching from the touchline, Ryu Ilhae realized what he was seeing and let out a sigh of disbelief.
Is he bossing everyone around because he's hot?
Growing into a playmaker just because of the heat. What an absurd kind of talent.
Inside Baek Yujin's head, exactly as the coach suspected, the desire to play football was locked in a war with the desire not to run in this heat.
I just need to score without running.
The current approach was the conclusion of a short internal debate. If he orchestrated everything from start to finish so that he himself ran as little as possible, couldn't he still put the ball in the net while barely breaking a sweat? And since he was taking the initiative, there was nothing wrong with it at all.
Spotting the wide player under pressure with the ball, Yujin received a pass and immediately switched play to the opposite flank.
"Hoyeon!! Run!!"
Too fast, and even knowing what's coming, you can't stop it.
The instant Jang Hoyeon took the ball, he snapped a sharp first touch and exploded forward. The touch was long. Even so, though Cheongha High's fullback had a head start toward the ball, Hoyeon got there first. One more touch and drive, and he was fully accelerated—completely unmarked.
Any deeper and he'd cross the line. Time to decide: pass or cross.
He flicked a glance into the penalty box and saw Baek Yujin ghosting in behind the defenders. The moment their eyes met, Hoyeon sent a cutback without a shred of hesitation.
Low and fast. The ball knifed between the defenders and the keeper. Their startled eyes tracked it. An empty goalmouth—and one player standing in front of it.
Thump—!
Baek Yujin finished first-time.
At the same moment several defenders threw up their arms, claiming offside. He'd come from behind them, so it was understandable—but this was not offside. Not even close.
"He was behind the ball."
It wasn't even a close call. He'd accelerated and arrived in a blink, and the referee saw it clearly. A clean goal. It stood: 3–0.
The match ended 4–0.
Han Seonwoo scored the last one, so the hat-trick slipped away. It had felt fairly easy this time; I was curious what the round of sixteen would bring.
After the post-match wrap-up, on the way out of the stadium—
"…Yujin. Don't play football like that."
Seonwoo said it in a low voice. He was sulking because I'd stolen the attacking midfielder's role, refused to run, and just ordered everyone else around with passes. Only Seonwoo had noticed I'd been conducting from a standstill; anyone else probably wouldn't have caught on at all.
"I ran plenty. Didn't you see the sweat?"
"You always sweat a ton in summer."
"…"
Well. At least he wasn't actually angry. When Seonwoo was truly furious, he headbutted people in the chest first—so that much was certain.
"The result was good, wasn't it?"
"Only the result was good."
"You scored, didn't you?"
"I ran for ninety minutes without a break?"
"…Okay. Sorry?"
I couldn't not apologize.
Ninety minutes in this weather… yeah.
I may have overdone it a little. After a bit of careful coaxing, Seonwoo's mood improved.
The real problem, however, was waiting elsewhere.
"Jia noona."
Everyone else had headed home on their own. I went to meet Jia noona, who'd stayed behind for me.
"Yeah, Yujin."
"How was the match today?"
"It was amazing. But when you suddenly launched yourself into the air at nine minutes fifty-seven seconds, I nearly had a heart attack."
"…Ah."
The precise timestamp, the exact move, and that smile that only reached her mouth—yeah, she was pretty mad.
"Uh… sorry."
"What's there to be sorry for? You were just playing football."
To soothe her, I slipped my arms around her waist from behind and rested my head on her shoulder. I'd prepared a line for moments exactly like this. She seemed a little flustered—we were outside, after all—but there weren't many people around.
"Didn't your future husband look cool out there?"
"…Husband?"
"Yeah. We're getting married, right?"
"…"
Jia noona's eyes went round as she stared at me. If she'd been a rabbit, her ears would have been standing straight up—that was how adorable the reaction was.
Knew it.
The husband card worked. She loved me so much I'd figured she'd like hearing it, and I was right.
"Honey?"
"…"
The moment I called her that, her face flushed crimson.
"You're not going to marry me?"
"…"
"Hmm?"
"…Stop. You can stop now."
I may have teased her a little too hard. Jia noona let out a short sigh and held out her hand as if sealing a promise.
"Just don't get hurt. I was really scared at first."
I lifted a hand, linked our pinkies, and smiled—thinking of the feelings that had washed over me when I first came back to the past, and of the uneasy look on her face now.
"Of course. I won't get hurt. You haven't eaten yet, right?"
"No. I was watching your match."
"There's a good place I know around here. Want to go?"
"Really? How do you know it?"
"I looked it up so we could go after the game."
That was a lie, of course. In my previous life, Jia noona had dragged me all over this neighborhood, and this was one of the places I remembered. She'd loved the shop so much I was sure she'd like it again.
"Okay."
The way she took the lead and started walking told me every last bit of worry had finally melted away.
And the fact that the scouts couldn't find me because I'd immediately gone off on a date with Jia noona? That was just a little side comedy of its own.