This Is Just the Beginning
Spend enough years playing soccer and you run into just about everything.
The absurd. The infuriating. The heartbreaking. The astonishing.
Moments so incredible you can barely believe they happened — and moments so ugly you never want to live through them again.
Jung Hyuk had seen his share. He had lived through more than most players ever would, and for years before he finally retired, people had already been calling him a veteran.
And yet.
Something even he had never experienced was unfolding right in front of him.
This unhinged?
Sunderland manager Di Canio, still ringed by his coaches, was nowhere near calming down. Jung Hyuk had heard plenty about the man's reputation even before the regression — but living through it was a whole different kind of shock.
At the same time, it was motivation.
A fierce, clean motivation to tear the other side apart.
And right then, a message appeared that could not have been more welcome.
Special Reward Condition Generated
Crush Sunderland completely.
🎁 Success Reward: A Card will be granted.
A message telling him to demolish the opposition without mercy.
A smile tugged at the corner of Jung Hyuk's mouth.
"I was going to do that anyway — and now there's a reward on top?"
Still smiling, he looked across at Di Canio's face.
How thoroughly do I have to break them for the word to really get around?
After the chaos settled, play resumed.
Di Canio was cautioned by the referee for his outburst, and Jung Hyuk — the one who had taken the tackle — was awarded a free kick.
Adam Lallana would take it.
Southampton's players fought Sunderland for every inch of space as they waited for the delivery. Sunderland did everything they could to make Southampton uncomfortable — and with good reason. The free kick Jung Hyuk had won was dangerously placed.
Not far from the penalty area. And the man standing over the ball was Adam Lallana, whose delivery was razor-accurate.
With Sunderland's nerves wound tight, the referee's whistle cut through the air.
Peeep!
The signal to take it.
Lallana swung his leg through the ball on cue.
Thump—
A hard, curling delivery driven tight toward the far post — not a shot, but a ball aimed at a teammate's head. One glancing touch and it would be a goal.
Players from both sides launched themselves into the air, throwing their bodies at the ball, desperate to win it.
Almost every player.
One of them had no interest in the ball at all.
Jung Hyuk's attention was locked on a single man — Jack Colback, the one who had gone in with that insane tackle and, instead of apologizing, had turned around and provoked him.
And as it happened, Colback was marking him personally.
You walked right into this.
Jung Hyuk's smile turned vicious.
Colback had practically wrapped himself around Jung Hyuk as they both jumped. From an angle the referee couldn't see, Jung Hyuk drove his elbow backward — a strike packed with real force.
In that instant—
Your S-class talent enables movement beyond your current abilities.
(Time limit: 3 seconds)
The special effect kicked in.
Only a few seconds — but enough to let him move past his own limits. The moment it activated, Jung Hyuk felt it: the power flooding into his elbow, far stronger than before. Strong enough to drive clean through Colback's solar plexus.
And then his elbow buried itself in Jack Colback's midsection.
That right there is an S-class solar plexus special, you bastard.
Thud!
Colback's eyes blew wide as the blow landed out of nowhere.
"Gah—!"
A strangled scream tore out of him as he crumpled to the ground. Jung Hyuk strolled calmly out of the penalty area — the unhurried exit of a veteran who had pulled dirty tricks more times than he could count.
At the same moment, the aerial battle resolved.
The ball was won by Sunderland defender John O'Shea — a former Manchester United man, a familiar name to Korean fans. The clearance off his head sailed out of the box, but it was a panicked swipe, and the ball didn't find a Sunderland shirt. It dropped toward a Southampton player instead.
Tap! Midfielder Morgan Schneiderlin claimed it cleanly.
Another chance. Sunderland players who had charged out scrambled back into the box. Schneiderlin scanned the field in a flash, looking for the best option.
Hurry—
Then he saw him.
Jung Hyuk!
Sprinting into the perfect pocket of space. Schneiderlin drove the ball toward him — thump! — a pass hit harder than usual.
A ball that fast and firm has trade-offs. Harder for the opponent to read or intercept. Harder for a teammate to control.
Schneiderlin didn't hesitate for a second.
Jung Hyuk will take it. No problem.
He knew exactly what Jung Hyuk could do. He knew that first touch was something special.
He was right.
Tok!
Jung Hyuk cushioned the ball as if it weighed nothing — and better still, he didn't kill it. A soft, flowing touch that kept the ball moving as he accelerated, and that alone was enough to leave Sunderland midfielder Adam Johnson behind.
Tuk! Tuk!
Jung Hyuk drove forward. Once he hit full stride, he was genuinely fast — and Sunderland's right flank was completely empty.
Of course it was. Right-back Jack Colback was still down in the box, unable to get up.
The referee did not stop play. Convinced no foul had occurred, he had no intention of blowing the whistle while Southampton still held the ball.
Then John O'Shea, starting at center-back for Sunderland, came charging across — a quick recovery run after seeing his teammate down.
John O'Shea.
Jung Hyuk knew him. A veteran defender. No easy mark. Smart in the tackle — the kind of player you never take lightly.
But the situation was tilted heavily in Jung Hyuk's favor.
A defender this close to the penalty line has no choice but to go passive.
Jung Hyuk was right on the edge of the box. Any foul here meant a penalty or a free kick from a lethal spot — and that knowledge only fed his confidence.
He went at O'Shea.
The method was simple. Tuk. Tuk. Tuk. Short, sharp touches straight at the defender, constantly shifting left and right, scrambling O'Shea's read. Then he used the sole of his right foot to shove the ball hard to the right before yanking it back. The calm, measured defender finally wavered.
Whoosh! Having broken O'Shea's balance, Jung Hyuk shifted the ball from right foot to left and exploded past him — a piece of individual skill executed at full speed. Clean through.
Tuk— Jung Hyuk surged forward. With the fullback beaten, a wide stretch of space opened in front of him. The other center-back, Diakité, came flying in. Jung Hyuk swung his right leg hard — whoosh! — every inch of the motion screaming shot. Diakité threw himself into a sliding block.
Jung Hyuk killed the power in his leg and twisted his body, folding around the ball after the shot feint. A simple move — but timed so late and so sharp that the defender bought it completely. Shhhk! Diakité's slide whistled past him.
No one left between him and the goal. Every other defender was too far away.
The angle wants a left-footed shot.
He had broken in from the right side of the box. With the center-backs beaten, the goal sat on a diagonal. A pure right-footed strike would be tight.
Left foot was the better option. But—
With my current stats, a left-footed finish is a stretch.
His shooting attribute sat at 77 — solid, not elite. And he was right-footed. He didn't trust a left-foot strike. If he was going to score, he wanted it perfect.
So he chose accuracy over power.
The method was simple: close the distance. Get so near the goal that almost any contact would put it in.
He drove closer.
Sunderland goalkeeper Kieran Westwood abandoned his line and rushed out.
"Don't you come any closer!"
One-on-one. Westwood closed the angle hard, intensity pouring off him, every line of his face saying he would not let a shot leave Jung Hyuk's foot.
The tension between the man trying to score and the man trying to stop him stretched to breaking.
Jung Hyuk stayed calm. He chopped his feet.
Whoosh! Whip!
A step-over. Westwood committed and threw himself.
A smile touched Jung Hyuk's lips.
There's the angle.
The dummy had opened a clean right-footed shooting lane. Exactly what he wanted. He clipped the ball lightly upward.
Took!
The ball lofted over the onrushing keeper — not too high, not too low. A perfectly weighted chip.
Whoosh!
Jung Hyuk turned away.
He didn't need to watch. The moment the ball left his foot, he knew. The trajectory was flawless.
His eyes found Di Canio standing far down the touchline. The Sunderland manager was staring at him, eyes wide.
This is just the beginning.
Jung Hyuk bared his teeth in a bright, white smile — a smile designed to get under Di Canio's skin.
And then the stadium erupted. Southampton fans roaring as the chip settled into the net.
"That— that little—!"
A vein stood out on Di Canio's forehead. His face flushed dark red.
Then Jung Hyuk started running.
"What— what is he—!"
Di Canio flinched. He had not expected the scorer to come straight at him.
Jung Hyuk closed to within a few strides — then cut hard the other way. Di Canio's eyes went wide.
"You— how dare you—!"
But Jung Hyuk did nothing. He kept the new line and ran straight to Pochettino, took the manager's congratulations, then turned his head.
Their eyes met again.
Di Canio saw Jung Hyuk's mouth move. He understood exactly what was being said.
"You— you little—!"
Di Canio's eyes flooded red.
A small disturbance broke out — courtesy of Sunderland manager Di Canio.
"Referee! That kid just swore at me!"
He grabbed at the official, insisting Jung Hyuk had mouthed an insult. It went nowhere. The referee shook his head — no evidence — and Di Canio only shouted louder, face twisted with rage.
Then Jack Colback joined in, looking every bit the wronged party.
"I got hit with an elbow! Jung Hyuk hit me!"
The referee shook his head again.
"There was no foul."
Colback stared at him.
"What? It'll be on camera! He drove his elbow straight into my solar plexus — the cameras must have caught it!"
"No. The cameras didn't show you being hit."
The referee was telling the truth. The jump between Jung Hyuk and Colback had been buried under a crowd of bodies; the lens never got a clean look. And Jung Hyuk had thrown the elbow from an angle that stayed off camera and out of the referee's sight — a veteran's foul, invisible to both officials and broadcast.
Even the assistant referee claimed he hadn't seen Colback take a hit.
"Aaaargh!"
Colback clawed at his own hair, face raw with injustice. He had been hit hard in the solar plexus. He had been down a long time, barely able to breathe. Even now, arguing, every breath hurt. His midsection still throbbed.
And they were calling it no foul.
He was so angry he could barely think.
Then Jung Hyuk walked over.
The face approaching Colback was full of concern — almost guilt.
"Jack Colback — you all right? But…"
The moment they were close enough, Jung Hyuk's expression changed. Every trace of remorse vanished.
And in its place, a voice thick with mockery:
"How about you stop faking it now?"