Giulia

Even after class started, I couldn't focus.

I was staring at the blackboard, but the morning's events kept circling through my head.

It wasn't as if I'd had zero contact with women in my previous life. Being an adult and a footballer meant messages came in from all sorts of places.

But girls at school approaching me first, showing interest, crowding around me — that had never happened even once. What had just unfolded left me so flustered and, at the same time, so pleased that I could barely get my head straight.

No. This isn't the time.

My life is on the line right now…

I forced my thoughts into order and tried to shove the distractions aside with the lesson itself.

Today was history.

The teacher was explaining Italy during the Holy Roman Empire.

"At the time, Italy wasn't a single nation but a patchwork of city-states and rival powers. And from that period onward, you could say the north and the south were already heading in slightly different directions."

I was listening — or trying to — when, strangely, yesterday came flooding back.

The tense standoff with Cuadrado after the match.

And that moment mid-conversation with Chiesa when a patch of space right in front of me had sparked like an electrical discharge.

Ah. That happened too.

But what the hell was that?

Don't tell me… it was because I trash-talked Cuadrado ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so well? The Devil's Tongue?

Thinking it through carefully, it wasn't entirely impossible.

But that doesn't make sense. It wasn't during a match, and it wasn't in front of reporters. It wasn't even a public setting. Why would Devil's Tongue activate?

I mulled it over, then let the thought drift in another direction.

Still… maybe talking that way is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the right approach?

The moment the idea formed, familiar letters slowly materialized before my eyes.

My eyes went wide. The text continued to appear, unhurried.

So that's it. Trash talk during matches alone wasn't enough.

Same with the interview — it took a while to trigger then too…

In football, you use every tool available to rattle the opposition. Physical intimidation is one thing, but trash-talking is pretty common as well.

So going forward I have to wage psychological warfare with words, even if it's not my specialty. Haa… this is harder than I thought. Maybe because it doesn't suit my personality?

That was the exact moment.

"Teo."

The teacher's voice rang through the classroom.

"…Yes?"

Hearing my name out of nowhere, I flinched and looked up. The teacher stood with arms crossed, staring straight at me.

"I know you played well yesterday. But how about dropping the daydreaming now?"

Laughter erupted around the room.

"Pffft—"

"He was totally thinking about the match."

The students watched me like it was the best entertainment of the day. I felt my face heat up a little.

Ah… yeah, I've got nothing.

I hadn't actually been thinking about yesterday's match, but I had been zoning out, so there was no excuse I could offer.

I scratched my head and gave an awkward smile.

"Fine. Then let's hear an answer."

The teacher pointed at the board.

"Not what I just covered. Name one characteristic of the Italian states of that period."

My mind went blank for a second. Then I calmly started digging through my memory.

What was it again… I learned this a long time ago…

Holy Roman Empire. City-states.

A fragment of recollection surfaced. It wasn't difficult material. I opened my mouth carefully.

"Uh… I remember the maritime states were dominant back then. They made a lot of money through commerce and trade, and because they had strong transport capacity, they made heavy use of mercenaries…?"

A brief silence. The teacher's eyes widened slightly.

"Hmm… correct."

He turned to the class and continued.

"The maritime republics — Genoa, Pisa, Amalfi, and Venice chief among them — amassed enormous wealth through vigorous trade. And mentioning mercenaries was excellent. That was one of their major sources of income as well."

Then he looked back at me and smiled.

"So you haven't completely abandoned your studies. Good to know."

I scratched the back of my head with an embarrassed look.

Survived… If I'd blanked even a little more, that would've been mortifying.

And with that, history class ended.

When the bell rang, students rose one by one and headed out. I gathered my bag and started toward the hallway at an easy pace.

The moment I opened the door, my feet stopped cold.

"…Huh?"

Far more students than I'd expected were gathered in the corridor.

Not just kids from other classes — students who looked like they were from different years stood along the railings and against the walls, all staring this way.

A constant murmur ran through the crowd.

"There he is."

"That's the guy, right?"

"The one who debuted for Torino."

"He's way taller than I thought."

"He's handsome."

The girls whispered and laughed among themselves; the guys watched me with open curiosity.

Wait. Don't tell me.

I slowly scanned the students packing the hallway.

Did they all come to see me?

Compared to this, the morning had been nothing.

Every pair of eyes in that crowded hallway was locked on me. There was no denying it anymore. Those students had definitely come to see me.

But I couldn't just stand there frozen.

There was something I had to do first.

I immediately turned back toward the classmates still inside the room.

"Guys! Get out of here, quick!"

They looked puzzled for a second at the sudden order, then seemed to grasp why — and practically bolted for the door.

The students outside weren't there for them, so they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't block the way. They simply stepped aside, waiting only for me to emerge.

In the end, I was the last one out of the classroom.

The instant my foot hit the hallway floor, dozens of gazes slammed into me at once.

Whoa… Only then did it fully hit me.

Roughly twenty to thirty students filled the corridor.

More than half of them were girls.

Some whispered with friends while staring; others already had their phones out.

I gave an awkward smile and scratched my head.

Honestly, this much attention is a bit much…

Then a male student approached cautiously.

"Teo."

"Yeah?"

"Could I… maybe get an autograph?"

I spun the gears in my head at once.

"Ah… sorry. I don't have a signature yet."

His eyes went round.

"You don't?"

"Yeah. Haven't decided on one. Once I make one, I'll sign as many as you want."

A plausible enough excuse.

The truth was I already had a signature I was used to — but using that one now would have been strange.

"Ah… got it."

Then a girl stepped forward.

"What about a photo, then?"

"Can we just take one together?"

I glanced around.

Hmm… photos would wrap up a lot faster than autographs.

And then lightning struck inside my skull.

Ah… Teo Kang, you absolute idiot.

You're getting full of yourself, aren't you? There were way longer stretches when you had no fans worth mentioning at all… These kids are your fans!

The little kid inside me gave me a proper scolding.

That snapped me into focus. I could finally read the situation and act.

Treating them as my fans was the right approach.

So I clapped my hands once and spoke up.

"Alright!"

Every eye locked onto me.

"No autographs yet, but I'll do photos. There's a lot of people, though, so let's shoot fast and keep moving. This is school — we don't want to cause a scene. Come on, phones ready, starting from the front."

Students scrambled to pull out their phones and form a line.

I started taking pictures one by one.

"Here we go!"

"Thanks!"

"Next!"

"Teo! Fighting!"

"Yeah. Appreciate it."

I was a little tense at first. But after a few shots, my body loosened up.

Right. I need to get used to this kind of thing again.

I was so busy charging ahead that I forgot.

With that small shift in mindset, I started posing with a much more relaxed expression.

"Next."

"Like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this?"

"No — smile a little. You're taking a picture with me and that's the face you're making?"

"Ah! Like this?"

"Perfect. Let's shoot."

The line shrank quickly. I was nearly finished with the students at the front when a sudden stir ran through the crowd.

"Huh?"

"Whoa…"

"Hold on."

Like the Red Sea parting, the students opened a path to either side. No one had shoved anyone. One person simply walked forward, and everyone stepped aside as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Fresh off the last photo, I turned my head that way.

"…Ah."

A face I knew.

And she was the one person at school whom absolutely no one failed to recognize.

The queen of the school, plain and simple.

Radiant blonde hair. A figure that turned heads. At 178 cm she was tall enough that she could have passed for a model without anyone batting an eye.

Even looking at her again, an aura poured off her like a physical force.

But in all my time at school I'd barely ever crossed paths with her properly. I hadn't gone out of my way to, and between classes and the training ground I'd simply been too busy.

Still, I had one memory of her.

June or July of '23, right before the term ended — we'd run into each other by chance.

That had been the entire exchange.

After that she graduated, and by the time I started making a real name for myself, I rarely saw her face again.

Back then her presence had been so overwhelming I hadn't even considered speaking to her…

Today, strangely, I had the courage. I walked toward her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Giulia spoke first.

"What?"

Then her brow furrowed slightly.

"…Huh?"

"A guy who never even made eye contact suddenly walking up to me. Why?"

"Uh…"

"You get a little famous at school and suddenly think you're somebody? Pathetic."

My mind went pure white.

I'm screwed. It can't start like this.