The Special Card

There were several kinds of cards one could receive from the Card of Dream system.

There were ordinary cards, and there were special cards with a higher chance of yielding better rewards.

Jung Hyuk, however, did not know much about the different types. He had lived with the Card of Dream for twenty years, yet he could barely remember obtaining anything beyond the ordinary ones. Even the Golden Card that had made his regression possible had been something he was seeing for the first time back then.

And among those scarce memories, one card still lingered clearly in his mind.

It gives you a special card if you clear the reward condition?

A special card. Before the regression, that card had handed Jung Hyuk an extraordinary reward.

I have to clear that condition no matter what.

So he intended to meet it. And the condition itself suited him perfectly.

If the South Korean national team was going to put up good results, a few slippery eels like Bae Jong-soo needed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a shock to the system. Getting thoroughly dismantled by an eighteen-year-old Jung Hyuk would, if nothing else, light a fire under their pride and make them run themselves ragged. If he failed to leave any impression on them, South Korea's performance at the upcoming U-20 World Cup would be poor. In the original timeline, that was exactly what had happened in 2013.

So Jung Hyuk intended to change the future. He intended to defend the pride of the South Korean national team. And the timing could not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have been better.

As a reward for making the U-20 national team, every one of his stats had risen by one. That alone gave Jung Hyuk even more confidence. And it was not the end of it.

Finally time to use these.

Jung Hyuk opened his status window.

Opening the window revealed stats that had grown across the board—the fruit of Jung Hyuk's relentless effort, and the effect of the recent boost. Of course, he had not opened the status window just to check the increases.

Time to spend the ten points.

He was finally going to use the points he had received as a reward not long ago. Until now he had held onto them. The EPL season had not started yet, and he had still been settling in at Southampton FC, so there had been no urgency. Rather than spend them immediately, he had wanted to think carefully about which stats he truly needed.

But now was the time. The U-20 World Cup was about to begin, and the special card right in front of him was waiting to be claimed. Fortunately, he had already decided where the points would go.

"I'll use the points. Five into Stamina, three into Speed, two into Dribbling."

The held points on the status window dropped from ten to zero. Messages rose at once.

All preparations were complete. Jung Hyuk stepped onto the grass and looked at the national team coach acting as referee—more precisely, at the whistle in the man's hand.

Hurry up and start. My body's itching so bad I can barely stand it.

Fortunately, the referee brought the whistle straight to his lips. Jung Hyuk took the field on the same side as Oh Jung-hoon; Bae Jong-soo and his clique were on the other. Jung Hyuk's side was made up of reserve players. Bae Jong-soo's side was the starting eleven. On paper, Jung Hyuk's team was bound to be outmatched.

Ha!

Jung Hyuk laughed. This was exactly the situation he had wanted.

This is going to be fun.

The whistle shrieked.

Jung Hyuk's smile deepened. The board had been set exactly as he wished. All that remained was to smash the lofty noses of those elite seniors.

Time for a little education, seniors.

The first attack came from the opposing side. They were elite players who had been linking up since childhood, and their chemistry showed. They circulated the ball through reasonably well-drilled patterns. To Jung Hyuk's eyes, however—eyes that had played advanced football in 2033—the build-up was hopelessly lacking.

This was 2013. The concept of build-up play had not properly taken root yet, and naturally no one treated it as a priority. Even the national team was not going to produce a proper build-up.

Recycling the ball between the back line and midfield, then a long ball. Straight out of the classic English playbook.

The other side was playing what people called route-one football: plant a quick striker and a tall target man up front, then launch long balls. What came next was obvious. The tall forward would knock the ball down with his head, and after that—

The quick one finishes it off.

Simple, and surprisingly efficient. But to Jung Hyuk, the gaps were everywhere.

Thud!

"Ugh!"

Bae Jong-soo, receiving a pass in midfield, sucked in a sharp breath. Just as he was about to send the ball forward to a striker, Jung Hyuk—who had been outside his field of vision—slammed into him.

That startled him.

Positioning yourself in the opponent's blind spot, then exploding into a body challenge—it was a defensive technique Jung Hyuk had used constantly in his prime. Hard to pull off when you were slow, but his Speed was now at 80. He had judged it possible, and it worked perfectly. After the collision he followed through, driving his shoulder in.

Grind!

"You little bastard!"

Bae Jong-soo shoved back, veins standing out on his forehead. He was a national team player too; he knew that giving ground with the shoulder meant losing the ball. But Jung Hyuk, who had been grinding through weight training without fail, did not yield an inch. If anything, he had the edge in the physical contest. The corner of Jung Hyuk's mouth curled up.

I already know what you're going to do next.

Korean midfielders of this era did not enjoy bold escapes from pressure. More accurately, they could not. When your ability to protect the ball was weak, you simply could not attempt a daring break free. So Bae Jong-soo's options were obvious: panic and lose the ball, or hurriedly dump a pass to the nearest teammate.

Grind!

Bae Jong-soo put power into his arm, intending to shove Jung Hyuk off and feed a teammate. But—

What the hell is this guy?

Jung Hyuk did not budge. He dropped his center of gravity low and absorbed every ounce of force Bae Jong-soo threw at him, clinging even more stubbornly. Bae Jong-soo staggered—he had pushed so hard that he overbalanced and lost his footing.

"Damn it!"

Driven back by Jung Hyuk, Bae Jong-soo went down. Even as he fell he shoved the ball with the sole of his foot, trying somehow to get it to a teammate. Solid concentration. A good attempt. He had not made the national team for nothing. The problem was that his opponent was Jung Hyuk.

Bae Jong-soo had no idea he was already in the palm of Jung Hyuk's hand—that every play he was about to make had already been read.

Slash!

Jung Hyuk launched himself. The dive came almost in the same instant Bae Jong-soo tried to pass while falling. Thock! The ball Bae Jong-soo had pushed with his sole was cut out by Jung Hyuk's sliding leg.

"What the hell!"

Bae Jong-soo panicked. At the same time he thought: get up fast and stop Jung Hyuk, or they would concede a counter. And yet—

"…?"

Halfway to his feet, Bae Jong-soo wore a blank look. He could not make sense of what was unfolding in front of him.

"You… what are you doing?"

Of course he could not. Jung Hyuk was not going anywhere. He was standing there with the ball under his sole, waiting for Bae Jong-soo to get up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you bastard!"

Bae Jong-soo's face twisted into something ugly. From childhood he had been called a genius; no player had ever dared pull something like this on him. No one had ever thrown such an insolent provocation. How dare he!

Bae Jong-soo scrambled up and charged at Jung Hyuk, ready to teach him a lesson.

This rootless little punk!

Thud!

On his feet, Bae Jong-soo flung himself in a surprise body check, intending to smash Jung Hyuk to the ground. It did not work. Tap! Whoosh! Jung Hyuk spun his body and slipped the charge with a movement so clean it was almost irritating—and it happened in an instant. Bae Jong-soo, already airborne, wobbled as Jung Hyuk twisted away. And then Jung Hyuk waited for him again, tossing out a single line.

"Doing the tiger butterfly dance?"

"You're dead!"

Grind!

Bae Jong-soo clenched his teeth and reset his balance. His eyes burned red with unbearable humiliation and rage. He bit down hard and charged again. This time a nearby teammate joined him.

Facing two national team players, Jung Hyuk made a prediction.

They're going to come in even dirtier now.

Bae Jong-soo and Jung Ki-yong would double-team him with rough, coordinated defending. In a situation like this, laying the ball off to a teammate might have been the smarter play. But Jung Hyuk went straight at both of them. It was not pride. He simply had the confidence—the confidence to overwhelm the pair of them.

Tap. Tap.

Jung Hyuk nudged the ball forward in short touches. A fully wound-up Bae Jong-soo and Jung Ki-yong, who had come to help, both charged at him.

Thud!

Bae Jong-soo hit him hard first. Jung Hyuk dropped his stance, rotated his body, and let the force slide off. Jung Ki-yong stretched out a leg next. In that same instant Jung Hyuk stepped forward and dragged the ball with his sole. Nothing spectacular as a technique, but the judgment and timing were exquisite—Jung Ki-yong's leg never touched the ball.

And now Jung Hyuk, with his back to both of them, lofted the ball. Thock! He popped it up lightly, then lifted it with the instep as he turned. In that spin he saw the gap between Bae Jong-soo and Jung Ki-yong, and he drove straight into it.

Thud-thud-thud!

A technique for bursting past defenders by suddenly lofting the ball while facing away from them—extremely difficult to use in a real match. Jung Hyuk linked the movements so smoothly he pulled it off in a single sequence. The two players could not react in time; they simply let him through with stunned faces.

Having beaten two men, Jung Hyuk kept going. The opposing fullbacks on either flank were each marking someone else. Standing in front of him were the two center-backs—and one of them was preoccupied with Oh Jung-hoon, who kept drifting near the offside line and needling their attention.

Nice support.

It was a huge help. All Jung Hyuk had to do was focus on beating a single man—and for him, beating one defender was no great challenge. Then a variable appeared. The center-back who had been watching Oh Jung-hoon suddenly abandoned his man-marking and latched onto Jung Hyuk instead. Once again he was facing two. And this time they were not midfielders—they were defenders. The two best center-backs on the national team, no less.

In that situation, Jung Hyuk only smiled. To him it was a trivial variable. It just made things more fun.

Thock. Tap.

They knew he was right-footed. So Jung Hyuk deliberately pushed the ball with his left as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he advanced, cluttering their heads as much as possible.

Come on in.

He surged forward, baiting the center-backs. They did not bite easily. Even after he had already driven into the penalty area, they kept backpedaling with calm, measured steps. Beating two composed center-backs was hard work—the odds of failing were higher than the odds of succeeding. A thoroughly awkward situation. Even so, Jung Hyuk kept coming.

If you won't come to me, I'll come to you.

Still tapping the ball with his left, he shoved the top of it with his right and twisted his body onto a diagonal, shaping as if to shoot. The center-backs could not hold back any longer. One lunged at him. The other closed in as well.

Tap! In that instant Jung Hyuk pulled the ball across to the left with his left foot. He was not as good with it as with his right, but he could use his left when he needed to. Precise shooting and passing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were a stretch, but for situations like this he could call on it anytime.

Tap! Whoosh!

A feint as if to shoot to the right, then a burst to the left. One of the opposing center-backs landed hard on his backside.

Crash!

The moment one defender went down, the other—Yeon Se-min—slammed into Jung Hyuk with everything he had. As he collided he kicked Jung Hyuk's shin.

It's only training. Take a red card once if I have to—I'll knock this bastard down a peg.

Yeon Se-min was one of Bae Jong-soo's close friends. A thin smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

That's going to hurt.

He meant to put the rootless upstart in his place.

Thud!

The kick landed hard enough to make a dull, heavy sound. A foul with clear intent. Jung Hyuk clenched his teeth. Fierce pain shot through his leg, but he did not go down. Falling would have earned him a penalty kick, and he did not want that. He rode out the pain. Instead he drove even harder into the physical contest and shoved the other man back. Yeon Se-min could not win the battle. As he was gradually forced off, Jung Hyuk—who had seized the strength advantage—moved first.

Whoosh!

Jung Hyuk spun in an instant. A movement you could not pull off without excellent ball control and pure soccer sense. He executed it cleanly. Yeon Se-min failed to respond and lost him completely.

Two center-backs beaten in a matter of seconds. The opposing goalkeeper came flying out to smother him, upper body as tall as he could make it, sliding in. The distance was razor-close—an extremely urgent situation. Jung Hyuk, however, stayed calm. With a cold face he calculated the gap to the keeper and chipped the ball—tap—while launching his body into the air at the same time. Lifting the ball and jumping with it, vaulting over the goalkeeper in one motion. Watching coaches erupted in shocked cries.

"Whoa! What was that?"

"What did he just do? He lofted the ball and his body and went over the keeper?"

"Insane! Is this a circus?"

Even after beating the goalkeeper, Jung Hyuk remained composed. With an expressionless face he simply rolled the ball into the empty net.

Thock—

The coaches watching the match stood with their mouths hanging open. Even the national team players on the pitch stared blankly at Jung Hyuk. The youngest player on the roster—the newest arrival, the last to join the squad—had just overwhelmed the national team's starting players with pure individual skill and scored. It was a shocking scene.

And yet the scorer did not celebrate. With that same blank face, Jung Hyuk looked at Yeon Se-min, the one who had just kicked his leg.

"Wh-what? What are you gonna do about it!"

Caught under that icy stare, Yeon Se-min shouted in flustered panic. Then a smile bloomed across Jung Hyuk's previously expressionless face—a bright, open smile. Still smiling, he spoke to Yeon Se-min.

"I'll see you a little later, senior."