vs FC Barcelona (1)

I woke up in the early hours of the morning and, out of habit, checked the internet.

"…Reactions are good."

The response to the live stream — and to Noona Jia — was overwhelmingly positive. Plenty of praise, and more than a few people sounding openly envious. Though if everyone kept complimenting Noona, I might start feeling a little jealous myself.

"The reaction's good. A little too good, maybe."

"Really…?"

Noona Jia looked at me sideways and smiled, soft and shy. She was so beautiful I lost my words for a second.

Bare face, and still…

I'd seen that bare face hundreds of times already, and yet it was a beauty I could never quite get used to, no matter how long I looked.

"So are you jealous?"

"…Mm. No. This smile's only for me, right?"

A soft peck.

When she gave me a smile only I got to see first thing in the morning, any jealousy evaporated without a fight.

"Hehe. Stay still. I'll give you a massage."

"Okay, Noona."

I lay face-down, and she rolled herself up and sat across my lower back.

"Alright, starting now."

"Mm…"

Press. Press.

Noona Jia began working slowly over my whole body.

"That's nice…"

I'd meant to get my bodywork done by a professional, but Noona had volunteered, so I'd left it to her. Honestly, I couldn't tell much difference from a specialist — it just felt good.

When the conversation lapsed for a moment, I went back to my phone.

"…Hm?"

"…Noona."

"Hm? What is it?"

"Did Yumin come into the live stream yesterday too?"

"Yeah. He was in there."

"…How did I miss him?"

"You were probably too tired."

"Maybe…"

I nodded, and Noona Jia suddenly stopped what she was doing, leaned down over me, and brought her face close.

"While we're on the subject — can you do some aegyo for me?"

"…Me?"

"Yeah. Yumin kept teasing you about it the whole time, telling you to do aegyo."

"Hmm…"

"Hm?"

I stared at Noona, who was saying it so lightly, and spoke.

"Noona."

"Yeah."

"You know I still have wish tickets left, right?"

One for making the U20 World Cup semifinals. One for making the final. Two of them. I still hadn't used either, because I hadn't decided what I wanted yet.

Noona lifted her upper body and went back to massaging.

"Hmm~ maybe I'll just keep massaging~ Does it hurt here?"

"…Noona. I'm looking forward to it."

Someday, I'd use them for something good for both of us.

Most of my days looked the same.

At sixteen years old, walking the streets of London to work. Greeting people, training. Meals with Hong Seoin at a Korean restaurant five minutes away. After training, sweet, ordinary time with Noona Jia. That was how I lived every day.

During rest time before the away trip, I checked a few news articles.

"…Owell?"

Owell — I remembered him as a Tottenham academy product and their current captain. In my previous life, aside from some friction over forced passes, he hadn't been a midfielder who'd caused any real problems.

What is this…

An uneasy feeling settled over me for some reason.

Arsenal's Champions League round-of-16 opponent was Barcelona. Apparently deciding that someone my age would be easy to rattle mentally, they'd sent out a provocative interview as an article. It didn't land a single hit on someone with a steel mentality like mine, of course.

Camp Nou…

I'd been there in person exactly once — on a trip back when Seong Yumin was playing for Barcelona. The impression from that day was still vivid. The odds of Barcelona losing a match in that stadium were vanishingly small. That was how fierce the fans' firepower was.

…And now I have to go there.

I sighed, and we set off for Camp Nou — the so-called graveyard of away teams.

Champions League round of 16: Arsenal versus Barcelona.

The first leg would be played at Barcelona's home ground, Camp Nou. With both Baek Yujin and Seong Yumin in the starting elevens, it was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠being billed in Korea as the Korean Derby as well.

A Champions League Korean Derby. For any Korean, that was a title you simply could not skip.

With kickoff not far off, Arsenal and Barcelona appeared on the pitch. From that moment, Barcelona's chants began drilling into every ear. The roar was so thunderous it raised goosebumps.

…No wonder they call it the away team's graveyard.

Baek Yujin looked around the stadium and felt the full weight of a hundred thousand spectators.

"Barça! Barça! Barça!"

An entire stadium roaring for Barça was a sight no footballer could help but fall for.

"Ooh to! Ooh to be! Ooh to be a Gooner!"

Of course, buried among that sea of people were Arsenal's traveling fans as well. After greeting the supporters, Arsenal gathered in a tight circle in front of the away end and steeled themselves.

Wright opened his mouth with a very solemn expression.

"It's Yujin's debut."

"Captain, aren't you playing favorites with Yujin a little too hard?"

"Yeah. Look after us too."

The squad ribbed him playfully for the open favoritism. The moment Yujin's name came up, everyone's faces brightened another notch.

"Let's go win this!"

Wright, who already knew how much everyone liked Yujin, confirmed the fire was lit and kept it short. That alone was enough to put the whole squad in a better mood.

Once the motivation talk was done, the players headed to their positions. For kickoff, Szymon and Baek Yujin stepped into the center circle.

Peeep—!

"Boooooooo—!!"

"Barça! Vamos!!"

The referee's whistle and a wave of boos erupted at the same time. The first leg between Arsenal and Barcelona was underway.

Baek Yujin spun the way he would for a Marseille turn, came face-to-face with Seong Yumin, and shoved the ball through with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sole of his foot to slip the press.

Hong Seoin took possession and immediately spread it wide toward the flank.

The cross rose on the perfect timing for the run, cleared the Barcelona defender's head, and dropped into the space between.

Szymon had thrown himself into a sliding header, but it struck the woodwork and spun over the line.

The ball went to the left midfielder, and from there it found Seong Yumin again.

First touch.

The Camp Nou crowd roared as if they already expected something.

Seong Yumin tapped it once, twice, then with a sudden change of pace beat the first man.

If there's no path, make one and go.

That was what Seong Yumin seemed to be saying as he carved open Arsenal's half and drove through it. A light touch dropped a midfielder; a defender crumbled. The successive breakthroughs had the commentary booth losing its mind.

Once he beat the last defender, Wright, a one-on-one with the goalkeeper opened up in an instant.

Seong Yumin, who had dribbled from halfway, put the ball in the net, and ninety thousand spectators rose as one.