An Adult at Heart
I ran apart from Han Seonwoo.
Only during training, of course. I didn't need anyone to explain why.
I have to build chemistry with the other players. I can't just lean on him.
In a real match, someone other than Seonwoo might be the one feeding me the ball. Someone could go down injured and leave a hole. I gave Seonwoo's arm a playful shove — he looked a little too forlorn about the whole arrangement — and teased him.
"What, you can't play soccer without me?"
"I just pass. Doesn't matter to me. Aren't you the one with the problem?"
"Me? Why?"
"Nobody feeds you the ball as well as I do."
"Hmm."
It might have sounded arrogant, but after all the years we'd spent together, what he really meant was that he knew my game better than anyone.
What are other people's passes even like?
The only passes I'd ever received were from future national-team players. Even those were so long ago I could barely remember them. As for a regular player's pass…
"Eh, it'll work out somehow."
When the scrimmage started, we were put on opposite sides. I went to captain Do Woojun's team; Seonwoo went to the side packed with first-years.
Being split from Seonwoo was one thing, but I asked the coach if it wasn't weird for me — a first-year — to be the only underclassman running with the second- and third-years. His answer was something else.
Wherever you play, I figure you'll handle yourself. That's why I put only you over there.
I'll handle myself wherever I play, huh…
Who did he think I was, some genius like Seonwoo? I was just a striker who happened to trap the ball well.
"Oh! Yujin!"
"Hello."
Do Woojun greeted me like an old friend.
"What should I be doing, sunbae?"
"Up front. Do whatever you want. We'll run a lot of scrimmages, so learning faces and names wouldn't hurt either."
"Got it."
"Ah — and from now on, drop the formal speech. On the pitch you can talk casual. Everyone else does."
"Yes, sir."
From the sound of it, today was about reading each player's individual style. As long as I got to run, I was happy.
But casual speech…
On a pitch where every second counts, formal language isn't exactly efficient. Even in Confucian Korea, the culture of dropping honorifics on the field had settled in to some degree. Whether it would stick to my tongue was another question.
…Wait. They're all high schoolers.
On the outside I was a high schooler. On the inside I was fifteen years older. That was me. Until now, inhabiting a seventeen-year-old body, I'd just defaulted to polite speech — but I was more than old enough to talk casually.
Self-justification, sure. Also true. Confidence bloomed.
I was still loosening up when a senior got on the ball. I waved my hand.
"Ball!"
The senior looked startled that I'd dropped the formalities so fast. Sorry — but at heart, I was an adult.
Football coach Ryu Ilhae watched the players swarming the field with a look of pure disbelief.
"Ball!"
"Make the run inside!"
"Focus! Focus!"
"Pass!"
"…"
The player drawing the most eyes was, without question, Baek Yujin. Ryu had been watching the first-years more carefully than the second- and third-years who'd already been in the program — but he hadn't expected anyone to adapt this fast.
Talking down to seniors while directing the play? That wasn't easy. The fact that Yujin had taken the instruction at face value and gone straight into casual speech was almost uncanny.
"Pass!"
The first-year side lost the ball mid-attack, and Baek Yujin — who'd been loitering near the center circle — dropped deep to receive it.
"Yujin!"
Do Woojun, curious what this brand-new youngest teammate would show him, passed without hesitation. The ball knifed across the grass before the opposing attackers could close him down.
Tak.
As if to prove trapping was his specialty, Yujin took it clean, spun in the same motion, and linked it to a winger bursting down the flank. Then his body seemed to already know where to go — as the winger and midfielder recycled the ball and pushed up, he timed his run straight into the penalty box.
Taat!
A cross arrived right on cue the moment he found his spot.
Short.
Yujin had been set to head it, but the instant he saw the ball he knew it wouldn't reach his forehead — and that it would bounce once first. Still, doing nothing wasn't an option.
Puh-eok—!
The defender was on his left, so he carved out space with his left arm and went for it. He met the ball on the half-volley after the single bounce, and the net bulged before the keeper could even react.
The moment the goal was confirmed, Baek Yujin stopped where he stood and spread both arms wide. Eyes closed, as if savoring the pure rush of the finish.
Never been coached, he said…
For someone who'd never been taught, that was elite. Off-the-ball movement, line-breaking, contact point, timing — all of it nearly perfect. Exactly the kind of attacker Seongil High needed. For someone untrained, he looked thoroughly trained.
And if Yujin had scored, what about the other player drawing eyes — Han Seonwoo?
The moment a player acting as referee called for kickoff, Seonwoo was first on the ball, dictating the tempo from midfield. He slipped pressure when he needed to, and mixed in the occasional aggressive dribble.
Looks like a former winger.
Reading the pitch wide, Seonwoo spotted space on the flank and threaded a pass the instant it opened. Low, fast, and precise — as if he'd calculated the defender's speed against the overlapping winger's — it skimmed just past a lunging tackle. It didn't lead to a goal, but it was more than enough to show what Seonwoo could do with a pass.
"Close. That was a great ball."
"Yeah? Thanks."
Having confirmed how the first-years were linking up with the upperclassmen, Ryu Ilhae gestured to the watching coach. Time to pull players aside one by one and start shaping them to their individual tendencies. The assistant took the hint and began walking the touchline. Ryu pulled out his phone and called someone.
"Hey. Coach Kim."
"Coach Ryu? It's been a while. What's going on?"
"Remember how I said we should set up a practice match over break — that we had some ridiculous new first-years?"
"…!"
"Let's do it. That practice match."
Training was over. Calling it training was generous — it had mostly been chemistry scrimmages.
Does that even count as training?
Either way, it had been fun. Even if that last missed goal still wouldn't leave my head.
Frustrating.
I was sitting on the bench with a towel around my neck when Do Woojun came over and handed me a water bottle.
"Not bad, little bro."
"Ah — thank you. And during the match, I—"
"Don't apologize. Everyone talks casual out there. If you really feel bad about it, just win us the national tournament. I've still got to get into college."
"You're going U-20 anyway."
After playing together, I'd gotten close enough to Woojun to know he was joking. Still — why had I ended up friendlier with a center-back than with the midfielders?
Weirdly, the center-back feeds the ball better.
It was genuinely strange. How was a center-back's pass higher quality than a midfielder standing right next to me?
That's probably how he made the national team, though.
It wasn't that the midfield seniors' passes were bad. Woojun's were just better. Thinking about it that way, a player who'd gone pro and made the national team out of a school that didn't even have great results looked all the more impressive.
"Oh. Seonwoo!"
"Y-yes?"
Woojun had taken a liking to Seonwoo — a first-year who still ran the game like he owned it — and had been glued to him since the scrimmage. Even now he had an arm around Seonwoo's shoulders, working on becoming friends. Seonwoo didn't seem to mind; he nodded along as they talked.
"We're heading out!"
"Yujin! See you next week!"
"Heh. Yeah."
The two of them, already thick as thieves, left — and the field went quiet in an instant.
"…"
I was staring blankly at the sky when I snapped out of it.
I should get up too.
Jia noona would be waiting again. With that thought, I started to untie my boots — and then a familiar scent drifted in from beside me.
"Yujin."
"…!"
I spun around, startled. Sitting right there was my very beautiful girlfriend.
"Hey, noona."
It might not have shown on my face, but I was more than a little shaken. No matter how hard I tried, jump scares never got easier.
"How long have you been here?"
"Since you started zoning out. About five minutes?"
"Ah."
"You done for the day?"
"Yeah. Yesterday was the club entrance test, and there's no evening session today."
"Did I scare you?"
"What? I wasn't scared."
"Hehe."
The way she looked at me — like I was adorable — told me the excuse wasn't landing.
"But Yujin."
"Yeah?"
"Still want to play? You've still got your boots on."
"Ah… I missed one at the end. It's bugging me."
"Then stay and practice a bit more."
"…Is that okay?"
Normally that would mean don't practice. Jia noona was different. If I really wanted to, she meant I should.
"Of course. Otherwise you'll just sneak out early tomorrow morning to play."
"Well, yeah, but…"
No matter how I looked at it, this woman knew me far too well.
Just thirty minutes. Really.
I retied the laces I'd started to undo and draped my padded jacket over Lee Jia's shoulders.
"Just wait a little, noona. I'll be right back."
"…Okay, Yujin."
I pulled the soccer ball from my bag and headed for the goal.
What went wrong?
The reason he was still out here was that last miss. He'd scored a brace today and still couldn't be satisfied. Up until the strike, the cross had been perfect, the contact perfect — or so he'd thought. The result: the ball skimmed past the post by a paper's width and the chance was gone. He still didn't know why.
Just hit a few.
Thinking alone wouldn't change anything.
Puh-eok—!
As Baek Yujin started striking ball after ball, Lee Jia filmed him on her phone. The night was deepening, but the small lights scattered around the field kept him sharp and clear.
He's so cool.
Whoever that boyfriend belonged to, watching someone lose himself in his work was a beautiful thing. Handsome face, manners that lived in his bones — so lovable she wanted to bite him. Lately he'd started showing a foxier side, but to Lee Jia, Baek Yujin was still the same cute, brilliant boyfriend.
When did I start liking him?
Probably elementary school, once she'd grown enough of a self to know. She still remembered. In a dark world, one boy had become her light. Even as a child, he'd appeared like a prince out of a fairy tale.
If Yujin hadn't been there…
She didn't even want to imagine that future. She wouldn't have been bright like this. She would have stayed in the dark.
Lee Jia pulled the padded jacket draped over her shoulders closer with one hand, holding it the way she would her own body.
…It's warm.
Inside and out. The heart of a boy who wore short sleeves in March and still made sure she was taken care of first — that was warm. The residual heat left in the jacket was warm. Did he know that the reason she looked after him was repayment for every kindness she'd received since they were little? It was fine if he didn't. As long as he kept happily enjoying the soccer he loved, that was enough.
Lee Jia had eyes; she knew Baek Yujin had talent. Even so, as long as he stayed unhurt and kept enjoying it, that was more than enough. Just watching him now, through the camera, she could feel how much fun he was having.
I just want that smile on your face.
The same way he'd put one on hers.
"Noona! I'm done! Let's go!"
A little while later, far across the field, her boyfriend was waving with a bright, open smile — business finished.
Really. How was anyone supposed to not find that adorable?
"Hehe. Okay. Let's go."
"Noona. You were thinking I'm cute just now."
"Was I?"
He could deny it all he wanted. Lee Jia stood, still feeling the warmth left in the jacket.
"I'm sleeping over, so take care of me, Yujin."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I already got permission from my parents."
Of course, she was planning to get that permission now.
"Then…? I'll be generous and look after you."
"Hehe."
She really hoped this love would stay just like this.
…She's looking at me like I'm cute again.
For the record, at heart I was an adult. Being with Jia noona just made me feel seventeen.