Without Landing a Punch
Professional soccer players who thrived in the Premier League were people blessed with real athletic talent. Those who excelled at ball sports often proved skilled at other forms of exercise as well—and for athletes competing in one of the world’s top leagues, that went double.
Perhaps that was why, in the past, Jung Hyuk’s teammates and players from other clubs had often taken up other sports as hobbies. The options varied widely: tennis, table tennis, foot volleyball, and more. Among them all, boxing reigned as the most popular.
Soccer players, with their naturally strong lower bodies and sharp agility, frequently showed a knack for boxing. Jung Hyuk was no exception. During his time in England he had taken it up as a hobby himself.
He had been interested in jiu-jitsu, wrestling, and mixed martial arts as well, but the club had drawn a hard line there. The risk of leg injuries was simply too high. Even for boxing, he had only been allowed to train after promising never to engage in intense sparring.
His skill had been solid. Especially after unlocking his S-class talent at the age of thirty-five, the gym owner had even asked if he had any interest in pursuing a professional boxing license.
And now.
Kim Jun-hyuk, notorious at Jeongun High School for his fighting prowess, stormed toward Jung Hyuk, huffing with rage. The way he glared and strode forward would have been thoroughly intimidating for any ordinary high school student.
But not for Jung Hyuk. He felt not the slightest fear. His only concern was how best to teach this thug a proper lesson.
“You’re fucking dead.”
“Planning to hit me right now? Come on, you wouldn’t stoop to something that low, would you? Of course not.”
“What the hell are you counting on to act this cocky? Huh? Why are you running your mouth? Did your brain finally short-circuit?”
“I trust myself. And luckily my head’s never taken a real hit. Besides, how many years do you think separate us that you’re talking about ‘running my mouth’? Get a grip. Anyone listening would think I was talking back to some old man.”
“You little shit! Hoo! Fine. Take a few hits. We’ll talk after you’ve been hit.”
Kim Jun-hyuk charged. The third-year thugs watching the scene snickered and started running their mouths.
“Hahaha! Jung Hyuk’s finished now.”
“Why the hell did that idiot pick a fight with Jun-hyuk of all people? Tsk, he’s about to get wrecked.”
“You guys know? Last year, when we went to scrap with kids from another school, Kim Jun-hyuk knocked two of them out cold.”
“Didn’t know his place and now he’s getting what he deserves. Hey! First- and second-years! Watch carefully what happens when you talk back to your seniors!”
Jung Hyuk’s lips curled into a faint smirk. He paid those thugs’ words no mind at all.
Still smiling lightly, he slipped past the fist Kim Jun-hyuk threw.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
It didn’t matter that Kim Jun-hyuk was a well-known fighter around the neighborhood. What mattered was that Jung Hyuk’s boxing was excellent—and that with his S-class talent now fully active, that already sharp skill had grown even sharper. Kim Jun-hyuk’s fists never so much as grazed a single hair on Jung Hyuk’s head.
About five minutes passed.
“Haaah! Hah!”
Kim Jun-hyuk was gasping for air. Swinging punches burned far more stamina than most people realized—even for a soccer player with solid fitness. Jung Hyuk had toyed with him without taking a single hit, and without ever throwing a punch of his own. It was a calculated choice: he had no intention of creating future gossip.
“That’s enough, senior.”
“You… you little bastard!”
Kim Jun-hyuk glared at Jung Hyuk. Then he flinched.
Why is his gaze like this…?
Kim Jun-hyuk had no way of knowing. Before the regression, Jung Hyuk had clashed more than once with players famous for their overwhelming presence—and he had never once lost a battle of wills. A high-school thug standing up to that kind of gaze was never going to be easy.
“You fucking—!”
Kim Jun-hyuk charged again. His lungs burned and his breath came in ragged gasps, but he had no choice. If he didn’t throw punches right away, the fear would take root.
Jung Hyuk still refused to let a single one land. Moments later, with his stamina completely spent, Kim Jun-hyuk finally lost the will to fight.
“Haaah… hah!”
Even as he panted like he might collapse at any second, curses still spilled from his mouth. His pride would not allow him to bow his head just yet.
“You slippery little—!”
“Enough.”
“Shut up, you son of a—!”
Whoosh!
Kim Jun-hyuk’s words died mid-sentence. Jung Hyuk’s fist was already hovering right beside his face.
“Wh-what?”
“Last chance.”
Jung Hyuk bared his white teeth in a grin.
This… this bastard…?
Kim Jun-hyuk’s pupils shook. At the same time, instinct told him the truth: this guy was out of his league. If he clung to his pride any longer, things would get far uglier.
“Damn it!”
Kim Jun-hyuk looked away. It was his way of saying he was done. In that same moment Jung Hyuk—face completely free of sweat—turned his gaze on the surrounding thugs. The ones who had been ready to jump in immediately averted their eyes.
Even without throwing a punch, the way Jung Hyuk had slipped every one of Kim Jun-hyuk’s attacks made it clear he was no ordinary fighter. On top of that, the fist he had just extended toward Kim Jun-hyuk had been almost too fast to see. That alone was enough for them to understand the gap in level.
After locking eyes with every last thug, Jung Hyuk spoke in a calm, ice-cold voice.
“Anyone who has a problem with me—come at me right now. Just know that from this moment on, I won’t simply dodge the way I did with Senior Kim Jun-hyuk.”
His voice dropped lower and lower, yet somehow it carried even more clearly to every member of the soccer team.
Kim Jun-hyuk and the other four thugs flinched hard. Seeing that, Jung Hyuk turned next to the first- and second-years.
“And one request for the first- and second-years. I doubt it would happen anyway, but don’t go telling the teachers, the manager, or the coaches about anything you saw today. Pretend it never happened. I don’t want something this minor blowing up into a big mess. And… starting today, if any senior bothers you, come straight to me. I’ll handle it.”
Jung Hyuk swallowed hard. Talking so much had left his throat dry. He exhaled deeply and continued.
“As for the third-year seniors, there’s no need to feel awkward around me. As long as you don’t mess with me, I’ll treat every senior with full respect. But while I’m here, I’d rather skill matter more than the usual senior-junior hierarchy.”
That was all. The moment he finished speaking, Jung Hyuk turned on his heel and left the school grounds.
Damn, I’m late for the gym.
No one tried to stop him.
After settling things with the thugs, Jung Hyuk was no longer dragged into any more annoying trouble. The retaliation he had half-expected never came either. Free of distractions, he threw himself even harder into training—focusing on it with almost desperate intensity.
“Ah, my legs are killing me. Hyuk, is weight training always this brutal?”
“That’s how you get results later. Just grit your teeth and push through. It’ll definitely help.”
“Yeah, I guess. Right now my whole body just hurts.”
Oh Jung-hoon, who had started coming to the gym with him a short while ago, made a pained face as he ran laps around the field. He handled Kang Chul-gon’s hard training surprisingly well. He complained every single session, yet he never once fell behind.
My eyes weren’t wrong.
Jung Hyuk watched Oh Jung-hoon with genuine interest. The guy had real talent. As long as he stayed injury-free the way Jung Hyuk planned, European scouts would be all over him before long. Of course, the same was true for Jung Hyuk himself.
Not much time left.
Jung Hyuk already knew the exact day European scouts would arrive in Korea.
I have to put up a real result at the upcoming tournament.
The President’s Gold Cup National High School Soccer Tournament. A nationwide high-school competition that had been running since 1968 and had produced countless soccer stars over the decades. In the original timeline, Jeongun High had never managed any notable results. Part of that was simply because the school itself was considered a weak team in the high-school soccer scene—but the biggest reason had been that the team’s ace, Oh Jung-hoon, had gotten injured right at the start.
Jung Hyuk himself had only just obtained the Dream Card at the time and had participated as a substitute. He had actually played maybe ten minutes total. Naturally, this time would be different. He would start, and he would put Jeongun High on the champion’s podium.
Thankfully the team atmosphere has improved a lot too.
If the mood stayed good and his teammates performed well, Jung Hyuk’s plan would become that much easier. Soccer was a team sport played by eleven people, after all.
The biggest reason the atmosphere had shifted was that he had broken the thugs’ grip on the team. Once the climate of fear inside the squad disappeared, everything brightened. The players naturally began moving with more confidence than before.
But a better atmosphere doesn’t mean I can raise my teammates’ actual skill overnight. That isn’t my job anyway.
The real problem was Jeongun High’s overall level. They had never even dreamed of winning the tournament, and they had never advanced past the quarterfinals either. That was simply the reality of the team. In the end there was only one solution.
I have to be the one who performs.
Soccer was a team sport, but it was not a sport where one-man shows were impossible. Players of overwhelming class often dominated matches single-handedly. On a high-school stage, that was even more true. And Jung Hyuk was a player of an entirely different class.
Only the very best high-school players turned professional. Among those, only the truly exceptional ones made it to Europe. Jung Hyuk was the man who had once been an ace in the world’s best league. He had not yet fully recovered the level of his prime, but he was more than confident he could overwhelm opponents at the high-school level. At the very least, he was certain he could carry the team to the final and catch the eyes of European scouts.
It’s not like there aren’t other options, so no need to put too much pressure on myself.
Jung Hyuk began his mental self-control. The reason he wanted to win the tournament was ultimately to reach Europe. And he already knew other ways to get there.
I could just go take trials in Europe myself, or send highlight videos to European clubs. At minimum they’d invite me for a trial.
One way or another, he was confident he would make it to Europe. On top of that, Jung Hyuk was only eighteen—sixteen by international age. Even without his peak form, he was sure he could pass trials at most European clubs. If he truly wanted to, he could accelerate his move to Europe even further. He simply had no intention of doing so.
I want to show something at Jeongun High.
He had lived as a world-class player, yet during his actual high-school years he had never managed any performance that helped the school. That lingering weight had never left his heart. He wanted to set it down. Of course, that was not the only reason he was not leaving for Europe immediately.
The scout from that club will be at the final anyway.
Right after regressing, Jung Hyuk had drawn up a plan—the plan to become the greatest player in the world. And at the final of the President’s Gold Cup National High School Soccer Tournament, a scout from the club that would become the first step of that plan would be present. Even if he did not rush to Europe right now, catching that scout’s eye would produce the exact same result: a move to Europe at the age of eighteen.
So for now, Jung Hyuk kept his eyes fixed solely on the national high-school tournament.