The Black Card

Inside Southampton’s locker room before the second half began, the place rang with the cheers of players still riding high on adrenaline.

And yet—

One player alone wore a grave expression, staring into empty air.

What is this?

Jung Hyuk gazed blankly at the message floating in front of him.

A Black Card…?

It was a kind of card Jung Hyuk had never seen before—not once. That alone left him rattled.

…Is this a good thing?

He couldn’t tell whether it was good or bad. The Black Card, true to its name, was a dark, murky thing, and something about that gloomy look made him hesitate to reach for it.

It won’t drop my stats when I flip it… right?

Then the coaches’ voices cut through the room.

“Time’s up! Everyone get ready to head out!”

The second half was about to start. At those words, Jung Hyuk squeezed his eyes shut and flipped the Black Card.

I have no idea. Just please don’t give me something terrible.

A soft scrape. The texture under his fingers felt faintly rough, and his unease only grew.

Then he opened his eyes and checked the result.

Jung Hyuk’s eyes flew wide. Getting a trait outright was shocking enough—but that wasn’t the most surprising part.

A remarkable trait?

It actually carried the modifier “remarkable.” He had never possessed One with Strong Stamina before, so he had no idea how strong the effect would be. Still, he knew that anything labeled “remarkable” came with an outstanding payoff.

One with Strong Stamina… just what kind of trait are you?

He drew a long breath and opened the information on his newly acquired trait.

“·····!”

It was stunning. He had expected a remarkable effect, and it still stunned him. A full +3 to every stat—thirty points of total growth. And not for a brief window, either: it lasted the entire second half. Not for a single match, but for every match going forward.

“Jackpot just hit right here.”

The word came out on its own. And the timing could not have been better. Of course it couldn’t—the second half was about to begin. The exact window when One with Strong Stamina would kick in.

Both sets of players reappeared on the Anfield pitch. The score stood at 2–2. For Liverpool, conceding just before halftime had left a bitter taste—especially against a side down a man. Wounded pride burned in their eyes as a fierce competitive fire took hold.

Southampton, on the other hand, looked bright after snatching that dramatic equalizer to close the first half—faces that seemed to have no room for the idea of defeat.

Everyone’s momentum is way up.

Jung Hyuk studied his teammates with interest. Confidence showed on every face. That was an excellent sign.

Peeeeeep!

The whistle for the second half cut through the air—and a message bloomed in front of Jung Hyuk’s eyes at the same instant.

A sharp grin spread across Jung Hyuk’s face. His current status looked like this:

With the trait active, most of his stats had broken past 80. Crossing that threshold changed the feel of everything—and of course, his football got better with it. His speed sat at 97, a pace most players couldn’t even dream of matching.

“This is insane.”

Jung Hyuk kept drawing deep breaths, forcing down the urge to tear loose right then and there. Under ordinary circumstances it might have been different, but Southampton were still playing with ten men. And his role was defensive midfielder—the one who had to orchestrate the side. Right now, the priority was to stay calm and manage the game.

Unlike the first half, Southampton refused to sit deep. They went straight at a Liverpool side that had the numerical advantage—and Liverpool’s players were caught off guard.

What are ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠these guys doing? They’re a man down and they’re coming out like this?

Why is their momentum this high? Have they lost it?

Then Southampton’s attack rolled forward, and the man who started it was their ace—Jung Hyuk.

Thump! He drove a long progressive pass out toward the right flank, aimed at Oh Jung-hoon, who had drifted wide. Oh Jung-hoon sprinted onto the ball stretching far ahead of him, stretched a long leg, and brought it under control before looking into the penalty area.

A bit slow.

No teammate was cutting into the box. In a situation like this, Oh Jung-hoon had two options: drive in himself and create, or set up a shooting chance for someone arriving from behind. Charging into Liverpool’s box on his own was the harder call—the opposing defenders were already organized. That left one play: lay it off to a teammate running through.

And then he saw one—already racing into a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠perfect receiving position.

When did he get all the way out there?

The moment the first pass left his foot, Jung Hyuk had exploded forward at blistering speed. Surprise lasted only a beat before Oh Jung-hoon hammered the ball toward him.

Thump—

“Stop him!”

“Get a mark on Jung Hyuk!”

The instant Jung Hyuk received it, Liverpool went into full emergency mode. They had every reason to. He had torn them apart before halftime; both goals they had conceded had come through his work. So they scrambled, sprinting to surround him as fast as they could.

Jung Hyuk had no intention of giving them time. With his stats lifted by the newly acquired One with Strong Stamina, he charged straight at Liverpool’s back line. His dribbling was sharper than usual. Tap. Tap. He nudged the ball forward in short touches, then twisted left—then right. A pair of feints in the blink of an eye.

Martin Skrtel flinched, fighting not to buy the move.

Give this kid space to dribble and he’s dangerous.

Skrtel closed hard—exactly the picture Jung Hyuk wanted. Tuk. Tap. He sold a drive to the right, then flicked the ball again with his right foot and burst left. A phantom dribble. He scanned as he went. Skrtel was beaten, but the shooting window still hadn’t opened—Daniel Agger had slammed a shoulder into him the moment the breakthrough landed.

Thud! Jung Hyuk dropped his center of gravity and rode out Agger’s charge. Back to the defender inside Liverpool’s box, he glanced at Oh Jung-hoon cutting in on the diagonal and swung his leg in a short, sharp motion.

Tuk! The sudden strike made Agger whip his head toward Oh Jung-hoon in a panic.

But the ball wasn’t there.

Of course it wasn’t. Jung Hyuk had looked at Oh Jung-hoon and shaped a pass—then slipped the ball through Daniel Agger’s legs instead. From the start, what he had been hunting was a nutmeg.

Whoosh!

Having beaten both center-backs clean, Jung Hyuk struck without a second’s hesitation.

Boom—

A clean finish after a dazzling piece of individual skill. The score became Southampton 3, Liverpool 2—and Anfield filled with a massive chant from the Southampton fans, a new song with Jung Hyuk’s name in it.

A shiver ran through him. He rubbed his forearm. Watching the supporters pour every ounce of themselves into that roar still raised goosebumps.

This feeling… no matter how many times I live it, I never get used to it.

A bright smile broke across Jung Hyuk’s face.

After the go-ahead goal, Southampton’s performance only improved. Even a man down, they refused to yield an inch to powerhouse Liverpool, launching counter after counter and managing the game with real authority. As the minutes ticked by, the word victory began to burn bright in Southampton minds.

With football like this, we can actually win!

Jung Hyuk’s condition today is unreal! In form like that he could score even more!

You can’t even feel that we’re a man short. At this rate, we might really take Liverpool down.

Happy circuits spun freely through the Southampton squad.

But it didn’t last long before a fatal problem surfaced. Playing short-handed forced them to run harder than usual, and the stamina drain hit that much deeper. By the eightieth minute of the second half, fatigue finally cracked their concentration.

“Ugh—!”

Defender Dejan Lovren, trying to clear long, lost his balance. The ball that should have met a solid boot caught only a glancing contact and rolled weakly away—a mistake he would never make fresh, born purely of exhaustion. And that mistake created ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a lethal opening.

The player who collected the loose ball was Steven Gerrard. In his prime he had been called one of the finest long-range shooters in the game, and the shooting window that opened for him now was perfect. He swung through at once.

Thump! The ball left his instep like a rocket.

“No!”

Lovren’s face twisted as he tracked the flight, praying it wouldn’t go in.

Reality ignored the prayer.

Swish!

Gerrard’s strike rattled Southampton’s net with ruthless perfection.

3–3. The equalizer. Southampton’s atmosphere went ice-cold, and Jung Hyuk’s expression hardened to stone.

This is bad.

Conceding off a defensive error wasn’t just about the goal. A shaken back line could become the spark for something far worse—and from Jung Hyuk’s experience, that possibility was very real.

His read was right. Southampton’s defense collapsed in a rush. Even with little time left, they looked so fragile that another goal seemed only a matter of when.

I have to create something.

Jung Hyuk’s eyes lit. In a situation like this, an extra goal would be ideal—and if not that, at least a threatening shot to flip the mood. So he raised the tempo, throwing himself even more aggressively into both attack and defense. It was a physically brutal stretch for him too, but the recently acquired One Who Doesn't Tire Easily still left him with fuel in the tank.

Tap. Tuk. He ran the midfield in every direction, linking play to his teammates. Once the ball found Jung Hyuk, it somehow always found a colleague next—so whenever a Southampton player won possession, their first look was for him.

Now he had it again. Before the ball even arrived he had already mapped every teammate’s position and movement; all that remained was to read the opponents and deliver. Tap. He didn’t pass immediately. He drove with the ball, drawing defenders onto himself, trying to ease even a fraction of the pressure on his teammates. The intention worked. Two players clamped onto him, and he still didn’t lose it—instead he slipped their press with a beautiful piece of escape play.

And then a razor-sharp killer pass left his foot.

Thump—

A needle of a ball splitting two Liverpool defenders. The twenty-percent boost to pass accuracy from One Who Sends Accurately made a ball like that possible.

Thud! The pass met Oh Jung-hoon’s surging run with perfect timing. All he had to do was strike it clean.

I have to put this away! If I score this, we can win!

Oh Jung-hoon clenched his teeth. The score was 3–3, but they were being pushed so hard that another concession wouldn’t have been surprising. If he finished here, the team could settle—and maybe even take the victory.

Whoosh! He checked the keeper’s position and drove toward the far corner.

Boom!

But maybe the weight of the moment was too much. Too much power flooded his leg. The one-on-one finish sailed helplessly into the air.

“Aargh!”

Oh Jung-hoon clawed at his own hair, furious with himself for squandering a chance that important.

Then Jung Hyuk’s voice boomed across the pitch.

“Oh Jung-hoon! The match isn’t over yet!”

At the shout, Oh Jung-hoon snapped back toward his position with a startled look—but the guilt still clung to him. His face had gone pale, and he couldn’t lock back into the game.

The bad luck kept coming.

Southampton’s defense committed another decisive mistake.