Was It Really From That Side?

Was it really from that side?

The absurd had happened. I had come back.

And yet this place was painfully familiar. This was the house I'd lived in back when I was in Torino, Italy. No question about it.

And that strange window floating in front of my eyes seemed determined to explain whatever bizarre thing had just happened to me.

I pinched my cheek.

It hurt.

This was definitely not a dream.

With that message, the window in front of me vanished.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

It granted my wish?

"Son. Aren't you going to school?"

Mom's voice prodded me from the other room.

"Huh! Yeah, okay!"

School? What school?

I scanned the room quickly, taking stock of my situation. If I was going to school, that meant I wasn't an adult yet.

"Mom! Hey, how long does it take me to get to the training ground?"

"Huh? Why are you asking all of a sudden? It takes about twenty to thirty minutes. You want a ride?"

Twenty to thirty minutes?

That meant I wasn't heading to Torino FC's first-team facility. The first-team training ground was in Torino itself, but the youth pitches were out in Orbassano — and that commute took exactly that long.

So I was in the youth setup right now…

But when, exactly?

I'd skipped age groups so often that pinning down the year was even harder.

Hmm. There's got to be something around here…

I rummaged through my room and, before long, had pieced together everything I needed to know about myself.

"Primavera 2? So I'm playing for the U19s. That puts this somewhere in the second half of 2022 or the first half of 2023. Who was the U19 coach back then…?"

I dredged up a faint memory of the man.

"Right. Coach Pablo Rebupfi."

I didn't have many memories with him. I hadn't been with the U19s long before getting bumped up to the U20s. Still, I remembered his name for one very particular reason — he'd been the one who oddly suggested I become a center back.

"Son! Aren't you going to school?"

Ah…

The mention of school made my vision swim. Those bastards were probably still there.

Once I'd become a footballer, I'd had a few options for high school.

First: an international school. You could learn multiple languages, and with kids of every nationality around, the pressure around Italian eased up quite a bit. The coursework itself wasn't that brutal either, so you could coast through without much stress. The catch? The tuition was obscenely expensive.

Second: a sports-focused high school. Exactly what it sounded like — a school built for athletes. Naturally there were plenty of classes geared toward footballers, and they cut you a lot of slack, so a lot of the kids playing for Torino or Juventus ended up there. Most of what you studied was sports-related, which meant that even if you never made it as a pro, you still had a path in a similar field. The downside was that you'd get strong Juventus players and strong Torino players under the same roof, and sooner or later someone would pick a fight over nothing.

Third: a regular high school. In a country like Italy, becoming a footballer earned you more consideration than you'd expect. Even ordinary high schools actively supported kids trying to make it as players, so you could keep up a football career while attending normal classes. Of course, "you can do both" was the official line — skipping afternoon lessons made it brutal to keep up with the material.

So here's the question.

Which school do you think I went to?

My parents are Korean. Of course I went to a regular high school. And not just any regular high school — one with the word "prestigious" stuck in front of it.

Being Korean, I'd put in enough studying beforehand that I managed to hang on for a while. But it got harder and harder. Taking only morning classes before heading off to training, I eventually had no choice but to give up on keeping pace.

And that wasn't even the real problem.

For a prestigious high school, the place still had its share of absolute bastards. The stress from them was so constant that even on days when the material was manageable, none of it sank in. I'd either be seething over something that had happened before class, or I'd knock myself out trying to sleep the stress away.

A little while later, I arrived at school.

Liceo Classico Augusto Rinaldi.

A deeply traditional, thoroughly prestigious classical high school.

The moment I stepped inside the building, my head dipped slightly of its own accord as I walked the hallway. My body remembered first — don't meet anyone's eyes, don't stand out. A habit worn into me by years of racism and ridicule.

I was making my quiet way toward the classroom when something felt off.

"…Huh?"

The stares I'd been bracing for weren't there. Someone laughed with a friend as they passed. Someone else glanced at me once and moved on. Ordinary reactions — like I was just another kid in the hallway. A few of the girls even gave me small smiles or curious looks.

Huh? What is this…?

I slowed my steps. Had it always been like this?

The school in my memory had been so much colder, so much bleaker. Eyes had followed me wherever I went, and being East Asian alone had been enough to earn me comments I didn't ask for. But right now, it didn't feel that way at all.

Had I been remembering it wrong?

Of course, not everyone was different.

A little farther down the hall, familiar faces came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into view.

Ah… those guys.

The same pack that used to harass me. Absolute bastards. What were their names again? I couldn't place all of them, but two stuck out. Mateo and Conti, was it?

One was a Juventus fan. The other, surprisingly, was a Torino fan. The second those two started talking football they were bitter rivals — and yet in front of me, they always closed ranks. You'd think the Torino fan at least would've eased up a little, but no, and that made him especially disgusting. I was right there playing for Torino and he still pulled that crap. A real piece of work.

Memories like that had piled up and piled up until even after I'd made Torino's first team and countless fans were pouring applause and praise on me, I still couldn't bring myself to like Italy much at all.

"Oh, if it isn't our Chinese friend."

They'd spotted me. One of them sauntered over with a sneer. The Juventus one, almost certainly. He always started it.

But something felt different from before.

The old me would already have tensed up — shoulders hunching, mind racing ahead to whatever was about to come out of his mouth. Not now.

I just looked at them.

I'd been through a lot in the future. Coming back here, they didn't scare me.

These guys… they're weaker than I thought.

The thought hit me out of nowhere. My head filled with the adult European professionals I'd gone up against for years — taller, stronger, hardened by the game. Elbows flying mid-match. Shoulder challenges that sent shockwaves through your whole body. Contesting a high ball felt like running into a wall, and one moment of carelessness put you flat on the grass.

I'd survived colliding with those men every single day.

And standing in front of me now were, at best, high school kids. Build, strength, presence — there was no comparison.

I… was afraid of these guys?

A hollow feeling washed over me. Years ago, these idiots had wounded me, shrunk me, made me avoid people. But looking at them now, with a future already lived behind me…

They were nothing.

"Sorry, but I don't have time. So move."

"Aww~ You're a footballer. Time's the one thing you've got plenty of. Look at the big Torino star over here."

The Juventus fan's mockery kicked off right on schedule.

"I am a pretty big deal, actually. Because pretty soon, I'm going to be looking at those Juventus players you love so much."

"What?"

"Jealous? You'll be watching Juventus from way up in the stands. I'll be seeing them right up close."

The Juventus fan's face hardened — then twisted into a look of pure contempt a second later.

"Everyone knows you're still in the youth setup. How are you supposed to see Juventus's first team? Even if you somehow make the first team and play against them, you'll be glued to the bench the whole time."

"Hate to break it to you, but the way things are going, I figure I'll debut with the first team inside a year. I'm the kind of player who skips age groups, remember? Though I get it — you're just a regular guy who doesn't know football. I'll cut you some slack for not getting it."

I took one step closer, right into the Juventus ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kid's space.

"And I swear on everything — the next time I meet that Chiesa you love so much, I'm going to snap his ankle. Just for you. You're welcome."

"What did you just say?"

The Juventus kid started to ball up a fist.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing over there? Get to class!"

A teacher's voice cut through, and we froze. Looking around, I realized almost every other student had already gone into their classrooms. At some point, we'd been the only ones left in the hallway.

"You got lucky."

"I'm always lucky. You're not, though. Are you, you little shit?"

"What did you say?"

We were about to collide again when the teacher's voice rang out once more.

"You two! Get inside, now!"

"Yes, yes. Going."

I slipped past him lightly and pulled open the classroom door.

A familiar room. A familiar desk. A familiar window seat. I sat down slowly, and old memories rose up with me.

Come to think of it… this was around the time I stopped paying attention in class. I probably don't remember a single thing.

That assessment held. Once the lesson started, I couldn't recall a word of whatever the teacher was explaining. Coming back from the future clearly hadn't fixed that. I stared at the blackboard, let out a quiet sigh, and turned my eyes to the window instead.

But why had I come back at all?

What?

For a second, the earlier confrontation flashed through my mind.

Don't tell me… it liked the fight?

With that answer, the pieces snapped into place.

Uh… no way a so-called god would be into that kind of thing, right?

Then the one who granted my wish… was really from that side?

…What did you just say?!