Club Entrance Test (1)
Two weeks had passed — long and short all at once.
In that time, I'd been kicking a ball alone on a nearby field, reclaiming the sensations I'd forgotten. The feeling of growing familiar with it again was genuinely wonderful. This was still the body from when I'd been in the thick of playing football, so the exercise wasn't particularly hard.
Thankfully, my Achilles tendon remained intact this time — it hadn't ruptured the way it had in my previous life. I'd been on edge, but by deliberately avoiding that incident, nothing had happened.
Between dating Jia noona, kicking the ball every day, and building my body back up to some degree, the day of Seongil High School's entrance ceremony arrived before I knew it.
"Yujin."
"Yeah?"
"You seem really different."
"Me?"
"Yeah."
The friend speaking to me now was Han Seonwoo — the same Han Seonwoo who'd played football with me since elementary school, the one who'd nearly gotten an assist at the 2050 World Cup. Being an only child, he somehow carried that youngest-sibling energy without quite being one.
I wonder if deep down he ever thought, "If only Yujin had been a striker..."
We'd been extremely close up until then, so it was possible. It might have been pure speculation, but right now Jia noona was busy with her schedule, so we were walking to school together as high school students.
"Really?"
"Your whole vibe's different. You actually look like a noble."
"Heh. That so?"
Back when we'd played football at school as kids, my beautiful play and decent looks had earned me the nickname "Noble."
Ah, I remember now.
We kept chatting as we walked, and before we knew it we'd arrived at the classroom. Sitting one in front of the other, we kept talking until the homeroom teacher arrived. I couldn't overstate how blessed it felt to talk with an old friend as equals again. Through our steady conversation, I was able to recall who I used to be.
The door slid open with a rattle.
"Hello, everyone."
We'd been so absorbed in talking we hadn't noticed the time, and our familiar-faced homeroom teacher walked in. After the teacher's self-introduction, there wasn't much else — we just filled out the simple self-introduction forms she'd handed out and submitted them, and time flew by.
Break time.
When they told us to form or apply for the clubs we wanted, we headed to the football club room to submit our membership applications. I filled in my class, number, name, previous middle school, build, primary position, and secondary position without hesitation — then got stuck on something unexpected.
"Huh? Special skill?"
Special skill. A box for writing what you were good at in football. I stared at Han Seonwoo, who was filling his out without any trouble.
"What did you put?"
"Ball-keeping ability and vision. I'm the guy who doesn't lose the ball even to an iron wall, remember?"
"Hmm. I feel like you've lost it more times than not."
"What was that?"
"Kidding, kidding."
Well, as I'd seen in my previous life, Han Seonwoo's ball-keeping, dribbling, and passing were phenomenal. His vision was so sharp commentators would ask if he had eyes in the back of his head.
"You still haven't written anything?"
"Yeah."
It wasn't that I had nothing I was confident in. It was just... the years without playing matches had left me feeling like I'd lost my confidence. One match would probably loosen me up.
Seonwoo answered casually.
"Just write trapping. Your trapping is unreal, after all."
"That sounds like you're saying I can't do anything else."
"Oh. You actually caught that?"
"Haha."
It was clearly a joke, so I just laughed it off.
"Would you have been middle school league MVP if you couldn't do it in the first place?"
"Fair point."
Han Seonwoo seemed to be trying to plant some confidence in me.
Confidence is important.
Just enough confidence without tipping into arrogance — that was ideal. The request to write a special skill probably had a similar purpose behind it. Most kids would just write "None," after all.
I wrote "Trapping" in the special skill box. With that, we submitted our membership applications and returned to the classroom.
Applying didn't mean you were in right away, of course. There would be various evaluations, but with our middle school awards, there was no chance Seonwoo and I would fail the first round. What we needed to prepare for was the practical test after school tomorrow.
I'm looking forward to it.
No matter when, kicking a ball was always something that made your heart race.
Seongil High's football club was a prestigious one. With countless championship trophies and a long list of players who'd gone pro, that much was undeniable. But it was also true that their dominance had been steadily fading.
Star-quality players had stopped coming to Seongil High at some point, and the number of pros they produced had naturally dwindled. It was because of their poor results. Seongil High hadn't won a national tournament in three years. Even in the previous life when Han Seonwoo had played, they'd only managed a single championship. Fewer and fewer people could help hoping for Seongil High.
I'd only watched Seongil High play once, but I'd spotted the reason immediately. The problem wasn't the coach. There was only one issue.
They had no finishing power.
Finishing ability, pure and simple. Once the third-year who'd been their main striker graduated, there was no one left with the finishing ability to put the ball in the net for certain.
You could ask what the big deal was, but not being able to score was the same as not being able to win. In the previous life, even when Han Seonwoo was in peak form and delivering incredible passes, there was no striker to receive them — so of course it was hard. The player who'd been the striker in that life hadn't converted even half of the ten passes Seonwoo gave him. Seonwoo had even pushed up into the number 10 position and tried, but with his lack of natural height and build, that was tough too.
No matter how they changed the tactics, finishing power remained the problem in the end. They couldn't score even when they defended well, and they couldn't score even after conceding.
This life probably won't be any different.
Not if I don't get involved, that is.
I was a striker. A striker itching to play football, desperate to put the ball in the net. Even if Han Seonwoo fed me the absolute worst balls imaginable, I was determined to receive them somehow and score.
Whether I can actually do it is another question.
Today was the day of the entrance test. In other words, a day to check my match form.
After finishing all my school schedule, I arrived at the football club's field with Han Seonwoo — our friendship already as close as it had been in the previous life. There were a few first-years around, but since we'd come right after school, there weren't nearly the thirty people that had been expected.
Han Seonwoo set his bag down on the bench.
"Want to warm up a bit? We've got about twenty minutes."
"Let's do it."
We changed into our football boots, did some light stretching, and faced each other on the pitch.
"The usual?"
"...Ah. Right. The usual."
After a moment's thought, I remembered what "the usual" meant.
"Here it comes!"
Suddenly, Han Seonwoo sent a liner kick flying toward me from a distance. Even at seventeen, the precision of the speed and pass was dazzling. You could clearly see the talent that would take him to the EPL.
The ball flew precisely toward my feet, and I, already prepared, trapped it with a light tap of my sole.
Right. This was how we warmed up.
Ever since we'd been old enough to hit long kicks, Seonwoo and I had always done a simple stretch and then warmed up with long kicks and trapping. Of course, the pass had to land within one step of the other person, and the trap had to succeed within one step as well. Whoever messed up first bought the drinks, was that it?
"Still got it."
"Okay. Seonwoo, here it comes!"
Thwack!
I sent a long pass. Not quite at Seonwoo's level, but a pretty clean pass. And Seonwoo trapped it cleanly too — not quite as well as I would, but cleanly enough.
"This is fun."
"Right? But you seem even better than before."
"Thanks for the compliment. Your passes seem more accurate too."
While we traded compliments and passed the ball back and forth several times, the first-years who'd applied and the club members started gathering. Time must have been up.
"You two first-years over there! Gather up!"
"Yes."
At a senior's call, we stopped what we were doing and gathered in one place. At the end of everyone's gaze stood a middle-aged man who could only be the coach. His face was familiar to me.
"I'm Ryu Ilhae, coach of Seongil High's football club."
Coach Ryu Ilhae. He and I had had a brief connection in my previous life.
It had been around this same time of year. But unlike now, after I'd had the accident, Coach Ryu Ilhae had come to visit me as I lay blankly in a hospital bed, having lost even the will to live.
"What do you want?"
We'd known each other's faces, and I remembered reacting sharply since he'd shown up so suddenly. He'd just stared into my eyes and said one thing.
"Don't give up."
As if that was all he'd come to say, he left the hospital room. That image had lingered in my mind for a long time — because I'd truly been thinking about suicide.
In the end, with help from the chairman and Jia noona, I'd gotten out of that hospital bed and started studying. The fact that he deliberately hadn't said hopeful things like "Don't give up on football" or "What a shame" had left a surprisingly good impression on me.
"Then let's begin the test. Follow me."
About thirty students followed Ryu Ilhae in formation out onto the field, where cones had already been set up and people stood waiting around them.
"First..."
The test began according to the instructions. In the order their names were called, they passed or kicked to the person standing by the cones, or shot at the goal, while Ryu Ilhae directed the power and accuracy and recorded the details. He also briefly checked special skills.
In Han Seonwoo's case, current Seongil High club members pressed him to take the ball, and he had to keep it without losing it. With light body feints and inside-outside dribbles, he protected the ball and made an impression.
"Next up... Baek Yujin."
Finally, the turn I'd been waiting for arrived. I kicked passes of various strengths, free kicks, and shots as Coach Ryu Ilhae directed.
"Your special skill is trapping?"
"Yes. I'm confident in it."
"Hmm... All right. Seongmin! Hit a shot like we talked about!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Baek Yujin. Try receiving the ball."
"...Pardon? Understood."
What had Coach Ryu Ilhae just said?
...Hit a shot?
Surely not. Who would trap a shot...
Thud—!
...Apparently someone would.
The guy called Seongmin blasted a shot toward me. Naturally it was far stronger than a regular pass, and receiving it was nearly impossible.
Hmm... I think I can do it.
I remembered having a similar experience at an old tournament — lightly trapping an opponent's mid-range shot when I'd dropped back on defense during a corner kick situation.
I extended my leg at the moment the ball would arrive. I flattened my instep and lowered my center of gravity slightly. The ball met my instep.
"Come on, how is he supposed to take that?"
"What kind of lunatic can trap a shot?"
"..."
I ignored the muttering around me. Everyone thought it would bounce away, but I was seriously intending to receive it.
Kill the ball, like snuffing out a life...
Life and death. I believed trapping was related to that. It was a metaphor, but nothing explained it better.
Tap.
Just before it could bounce, I drew my foot back slightly and killed the ball's spin. Contrary to everyone's expectations, the ball didn't fly far away — after a single bounce, it settled between my legs.
When I first lifted my head, the guy called Seongmin had his mouth hanging open, Coach Ryu Ilhae was expressionless, and the first-years behind them were staring like they'd seen a monster.
Only one person.
"Boooo! Where'd the Noble go?! You couldn't take that cleanly?"
Only Han Seonwoo was shouting at me, giving a thumbs-down.
"...Coach. That's it, right?"
"Yeah. Head back in."
I ignored the stares and walked straight over to Han Seonwoo's side.
"You used to take balls like that with no bounce, pinching them between your insteps. Were you nervous or something?"
"...Guess so."
I'd felt it since this morning — talking with Han Seonwoo made it seem like I hadn't been human back in middle school.
The me who used to take those with no bounce is starting to sound pretty impressive.
While we quietly bantered, the basic skills test ended and it was time for the scrimmage. The thought that I could finally play a match made my heart flutter with anticipation.
While they were dividing teams for the scrimmage, Ryu Ilhae approached Seonwoo and me. He clearly wanted something.
"Baek Yujin, Han Seonwoo. You two sit this one out for now."
"...Pardon?"
...Benched?
With about thirty students being tested, someone had to sit out — but I hadn't expected it to be me.
We heated up the bench watching the match, like people waiting for an ex who'd left them.