Europe (2)

My move to Arsenal was already a done deal.

I'd thought it over quite a bit, but the truth was that from the moment the offer arrived, going to Arsenal had been all but decided. The terms were the best of the lot, too. Not a youth contract but a professional one, a guaranteed first-team place, and a salary that crossed into the hundreds of millions of won. They even offered to cover most of what I'd need to spend while living in London. If I started listing the smaller perks on top of that, my jaw would get tired. A two-year deal negotiated down to this level — turning it down would have made me a fool.

As a first step in my career, Arsenal on these terms was more than enough ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to be satisfied with.

Well, Real is a bit of a shame, though.

If I'd signed a Real youth contract and put in a strong showing, I could have become the first Korean to play for their first team — but I believed people mattered more than the place. I wanted to play under Manager Alexandro, a name that always came up whenever the conversation turned to the greatest managers in the world.

While the world was in an uproar over my signing alone, a regret that wasn't quite a regret began to settle over me.

What kind of team was Arsenal again?

With Alexandro as manager, how had they never once won the league? Of course, across his three-year tenure the results hadn't been bad. That only made me more curious.

Why couldn't they win it?

The press had plenty to say — this player was the problem, the manager's tactics were the problem. Well, this time will be different. Everything was already diverging completely from my previous life. Hong Seoin, who'd gone looking for a Korean restaurant, had already headed to Arsenal, and I was about to follow. I'd passed the medical successfully, and once the contract was signed there was no taking it back.

And I had already made up my mind. I was going to show them something absurd at Arsenal.

Part of me wanted to head straight for London, but there was still a lot left unfinished. Dropping out of school, packing my things, getting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the word out to people.

Just one week left.

Having finished most of the formalities, I made my way at last deep into the mountains. Crunch, crunch. Before long I stood before two gravestones.

The first thing that caught my eye was a red-and-white kit. The names of various players were written across the backs, every one of them world-famous. From Henry, Pires, and Lehmann — who'd played key roles in Arsenal's Invincible Season long ago — to the jersey and signature of Bergkamp, the man who'd made me start playing football in the first place. Hauling all of this up here had been exhausting. Just looking at it, you could tell how sincere this person had been about Arsenal, how much he'd loved the club.

"…Dad."

This was my late parents' grave. Today wasn't the anniversary of their death, but since I was about to leave for a long while, I'd come to pay my respects. I was still a minor, so there was no alcohol — instead I set down a national team jersey bearing my own signature and opened my mouth.

"I'm seventeen, and I got called up to the U20s, and we won the U20 World Cup? Pretty incredible, right? Your son's that amazing, so go ahead and brag."

South Korea's first-ever U20 World Cup title. And I was at the center of it. Picturing my parents' faces lighting up at the news — faces from their mid-thirties, barely lined — made my lips tremble.

"…I bet there's nobody left in Korea who hasn't heard my name."

I kept my emotions as tightly reined as I could. I hadn't come here today to grieve. I'd come to share joy.

"My friends have already signed with overseas clubs. Amazing, right? These guys rewrote Korea's miracle of the semifinals, you know?"

Even if it hadn't happened in this life, I wanted so badly to brag about it. I wanted my parents to know that my proud friends had represented Korea and raised its standing in the world.

A wind blew past — strangely warm for winter. There wasn't a soul around, and yet it felt as if someone unseen had asked me a question.

— Which club did you sign with?

"I signed with Arsenal."

— Was it because of me? If so, don't. Play wherever you want.

"Because of you, Dad? No. Objectively it's a good team, and I had my reasons for going."

— Haha. Then that's a relief.

To say my father had no influence at all would have been a lie — but it wasn't what had ultimately moved my heart. Or so I believed.

"I'm going to make everyone at Emirates Stadium chant my name. And…"

I turned my head and looked to the side. A plain, unadorned grave, just as I remembered it.

"Mom. I…"

There was so much I wanted to say to her. How devastated I'd been when I got injured. How hard it had been with no one by my side. How I'd nearly made the most extreme choice. A flood of words rose in my mind, but what finally left my mouth was a single short line.

"…I miss you."

I'd thought this aching feeling had dulled over the years, but it seemed that wasn't true at all. The grief that had pooled silently, unresolved, from my previous life had never dulled — it still sat in a corner of my heart.

"…Huh. What's this."

Drip, drip.

Before I knew it, tears were falling. I'd always wanted to smile. I hadn't wanted to be sad. I'd only wanted to show my parents a happy face — and yet somehow, whenever I came here, the tears came easily. I wiped them with my sleeve and carried on as if nothing were wrong.

"I'm leaving for London today. That's what I came to tell you."

Tears of sorrow ended here. From now on, only smiles of joy remained.

"Father. Mother."

Dad and Mom. Having lived past thirty on the inside, wasn't it about time I graduated from calling them that?

"Please watch me play football from up in the sky. I'll come back on the anniversary."

I rose from my place wearing the brightest smile I could manage. I was going to make the world sit up and take notice. I was going to make everyone who called me foolish regret it. I felt none of the anxiety or worry that came with heading alone to a foreign land where I knew no one. My first fan had always been watching over me. I didn't feel alone at all.

"All done?"

Ah — I wasn't alone. I had Jia, who would be with me forever.

"Yeah."

"Did you cry?"

"…No?"

"Hehe. Just wait a second."

Smiling as if she knew everything, she offered a modest gift and a simple greeting. She pressed her palms together like someone making a wish and closed her eyes. About five seconds later, she opened them.

"Okay. Let's go."

"What did you say?"

"Hmm~ I told them I'd take good care of our Yujin."

"Let's stay together forever, Jia."

"Of course. Obviously."

I took her hand and led the way. My steps felt light and free. The weight that had settled on my heart seemed to have been stacked back on again, and yet somehow it didn't feel heavy.

"Shall we go?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

And so we left for Europe — for London. For the first and last time, for my father, and for the eternal dream of playing in the EPL.