You're on the National Team
Nearly seven years of experience in the EPL was nothing anyone could dismiss.
And when those seven years hadn't merely been about surviving—when several of them had been spent as the team's ace—it became something no one could ignore at all.
It was an extraordinary résumé by any measure. And that experience proved invaluable in helping Jung Hyuk settle into Southampton FC.
He adapted to the squad with startling speed.
Of course, his teammates refused to pass him the ball at first. They iced him out completely, as if determined to freeze him from the game. No matter how well he positioned himself, the pass never came.
Anyone facing that for the first time would have been rattled. When professional players decide, as a unit, to starve you of the ball, getting a touch becomes nearly impossible. And receiving that kind of treatment from the very people meant to be your teammates leaves a bitter taste.
Fortunately, Jung Hyuk was a player who had endured this kind of hazing more times than he could count. He also knew exactly how to smash it to pieces.
Cute little games they're playing.
A grin spread across Jung Hyuk's face as he went out and took the ball himself. He ran harder, tackled rougher, and locked horns with every player who tried him. He tore across the pitch like a mad dog.
Before long, he was stripping the ball off Southampton players with growing regularity. His tackle rating itself wasn't high, but the muscle memory and seasoned instincts buried in his body meant the number of times he won possession kept climbing.
And once he had the ball, Jung Hyuk never forced a highlight-reel moment. He didn't get greedy. With the look of a man who could take the ball whenever he pleased, he simply passed it to the nearest teammate. No matter how hard he'd fought to win it, he gave it away without a second thought. When a teammate made a sharp run, he slid a forward pass into his path.
That didn't mean he was all self-sacrifice. The moment a real chance opened up, he struck without hesitation—and the sheer force of his shot left an impression no one could ignore.
The Southampton FC players were thrown.
Damn it! What is this kid? He's sixteen? How does someone that age play like that?
Is he lying about his age? Looking at his face, he really is just a kid…
He's not falling behind our tempo at all. This shouldn't even be possible. The Premier League's pace isn't something you just pick up overnight…
Maybe the gaffer brought him in for a reason after all?
They couldn't help it. There was no desperation in Jung Hyuk's play—only a composure almost never found in a player so young. He had slotted straight into the blistering tempo the Premier League was famous for.
Jung Hyuk wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes gleaming with quiet confidence.
You only mess with people you can actually handle.
The Southampton FC players had no idea. The ease they couldn't understand in Jung Hyuk was the ease of a veteran. The ease of a World Class player who knew exactly what he was worth.
At this rate, I'll settle in even faster than I expected.
Confidence and self-belief produced football that radiated cool detachment. On top of that, Jung Hyuk spoke perfect English. In his experience, European players might be warriors on the pitch, but once the whistle blew, they were decent enough. Southampton's squad was no different. Being able to talk to them, Jung Hyuk made friends fast.
It didn't take long. Barely three days after his first training session, Jung Hyuk had already been accepted as a teammate by the Southampton FC players.
Oh Jung-hoon, who had come to Southampton with him, was still struggling.
Things were a little better when he trained on the same side as Jung Hyuk—Jung Hyuk found ways to get him the ball and create chances. But whenever they ended up on opposite teams, the same problems resurfaced.
Like right now.
"Damn it! Aaaaargh! You bastards! Pass the damn ball!"
Standing in a perfect position, Oh Jung-hoon bellowed across the pitch. His face was flushed a furious red. With his already massive frame and heavily muscled build, the sight of him roaring with a crimson face was genuinely intimidating.
Except—
That's not the way to handle this.
Watching him, Jung Hyuk clicked his tongue with a bitter expression. These were professionals—EPL pros with real experience and real ability. They had already lived through everything Oh Jung-hoon was suffering now. They had already overcome it. Which meant they could almost certainly read the kid's psychology like an open book. Odds were, they were laughing at how worked up he was getting.
You've got to go cold, Jung-hoon.
From Jung Hyuk's experience, losing your temper against players like these never helped. Far better to stay composed, wait for even the smallest opening, and then turn that opening into a goal. Driving a vivid image of your quality into their minds with pure ability was a far more effective approach.
After training, back at the residence, Jung Hyuk stretched out of habit and massaged his own legs. He iced them the way he always had in his playing days. Before the regression, it was something he had done without fail after every single match—not one day skipped. Even now, with virtually no risk of injury, he wanted to keep the ritual going. It was a kind of ceremony, a way of closing out the day clean.
That hits the spot.
Finished with the ice, Jung Hyuk looked toward the living room. Oh Jung-hoon was stomping back and forth across it, still seething. Clearly the anger hadn't burned off yet. Jung Hyuk watched him for a moment, then called out.
"Jung-hoon. Calm down and get your stretching and leg massage done. Keep that up and you're going to get hurt."
"Aargh! Hyuk! I'm so pissed I can't do anything!"
Jung Hyuk gave a wry smile.
"Why are you getting so worked up these days?"
"Why am I worked up? Because those guys are driving me insane! Honestly, I'm more amazed by you. The second they step on the pitch they start playing dirty! How do you not lose it when your own teammates treat you like that?"
"Jung-hoon."
"What?"
"The Oh Jung-hoon I know wasn't the type to get angry when people treated him like that. He was the type who started figuring out how to beat it. Did I have the wrong guy?"
"…!"
"You're too impatient right now. Impatience makes you anxious, and when a bunch of guys you can't even talk to start freezing you out on top of that, of course you feel like you're losing your mind. Then you lose whatever composure you had left, your vision narrows, and naturally your performance drops even further."
"……"
Tears welled in Oh Jung-hoon's eyes. The words had cut straight through to the heart of his situation.
Jung Hyuk let out a long breath and looked at him with a cold expression. He felt for his friend—but this was not the moment for soft words.
"I get that you're in a tough spot. But what are you going to do? They say this is the club's tradition. You've got to push through it."
"…How am I supposed to push through it?"
"I don't have the perfect answer either."
"…But you already kind of made it through, didn't you? They're passing to you now."
"I just beat it my way. You beat it yours."
"My way…?"
"Do what you can do. Just don't do it the way you did back in Korea."
Once you realize the football that worked in Korea doesn't work here, you change methods fast. Without that, there is no way out of the situation you're in. This was England. Everything was different. The environment had changed. Without English, communication broke down, and without communication, performance inevitably suffered. On top of that, Oh Jung-hoon wasn't clearly better than his teammates the way he had been at Jeongwoon High back home. The whole situation was completely different—and Oh Jung-hoon knew it. That was why he asked.
"Then what the hell am I supposed to do? Just tell me how."
There was a desperate light in Oh Jung-hoon's eyes. Jung Hyuk's expression stayed cold.
"Do it like your life depends on it. Run more than anyone else. Press the opposition hard. Win every aerial duel somehow. Pour everything you have into every single training session like a madman who only has today. Prove your quality that way—and force them to change how they treat you."
"…"
"Oh, and learn English fast. The guys here respect people who can speak the language. If you keep treating English like it's too hard and don't study, I don't think you'll last long in England."
"……!"
"Anyway, I'm wiped. I'm going to sleep. You should finish your massage and get some rest too."
With that, Jung Hyuk pulled the blanket up and turned away. Under the covers, his face was dark.
Hang in there, Jung-hoon.
Being hard on a struggling friend wasn't easy for him either. But he didn't want to cradle him gently and walk him through every step of how to survive. That would only make Oh Jung-hoon weaker. In the Premier League, only the strong survive—strong in body and strong in mind. The weak are cut down without mercy. You have to get strong on your own and fight your way through.
If Oh Jung-hoon could overcome what he was facing now by his own power, Jung Hyuk was certain he would grow enormously. And if he couldn't…
It would be sad—but that would simply be the limit of what he was.
Get stronger.
While Jung Hyuk and Oh Jung-hoon fought through each day, Park Young-nam was just as busy. He shuttled constantly between Seoul and England, giving everything he had as their agent. The schedule was murderous. And today, once again, he was on a plane bound for a meeting booked in Korea.
Knowing that, Oh Jung-hoon clicked his tongue in sympathy.
"Man, Young-nam hyung is really putting in the work."
"He make it to Korea okay?"
Jung Hyuk asked, a worried look on his face.
"Yeah. He texted a bit ago—said he landed."
"He's got to be exhausted."
"Totally exhausted. I had no idea flying could be this brutal."
"People who've never done long-haul flights usually don't get it. Once you actually do it, you find out real fast how rough it is."
"Huh? Wasn't this your first time on a plane too?"
"…I went to Jeju Island on a school trip."
"Huh? Pfft! Jeju's like an hour by plane. You say the weirdest stuff sometimes."
"…"
Jung Hyuk turned his head with an awkward look. No good excuse came to mind. Before the regression, he had flown constantly—overseas trips so frequent they'd become tedious. He knew exactly how draining long-haul flights could be. But in this life, just as Oh Jung-hoon said, the flight to England had been his first real long-haul journey.
"Let's just eat."
Jung Hyuk reheated the pork kimchi stew Park Young-nam had left them and scooped rice into bowls. Meanwhile, Oh Jung-hoon pulled out the side dishes. Jung Hyuk was long used to setting a meal for himself, and by now Oh Jung-hoon moved through the routine with easy familiarity.
A short while later, the two of them sat across from each other and started eating.
"Hyuk."
"Yeah?"
"So… how do you think it went?"
Oh Jung-hoon asked, face flushed with anticipation.
"How would I know. It'll be fine."
"Should I call Young-nam hyung?"
"Just leave it. He'll call when there's news."
"Aargh! I'm too nervous to wait!"
Oh Jung-hoon fidgeted wildly, tension written all over his face.
"Just eat your food."
Jung Hyuk laughed helplessly and shoveled rice into his mouth. It wasn't that he didn't understand. Of course Oh Jung-hoon was like this. He knew exactly why Park Young-nam had gone to Korea. Something that young footballers only ever dreamed about might actually be about to happen.
Then—
Bzzzz. Bzzzz.
A phone vibrated on the table. Jung Hyuk's phone. And the caller was Park Young-nam.
Screeech! Thud!
Oh Jung-hoon shoved his chair back, snatched up Jung Hyuk's phone, and shouted into it.
"Hyung! How did it go?!"
"Hey, why are you grabbing my—"
Jung Hyuk was reaching to wrestle the phone back when Park Young-nam's voice came pouring out of the speaker—loud enough to hear clearly even without speakerphone.