The Presidential Gold Cup Begins
The Presidential Gold Cup National High School Soccer Tournament had long been known for producing more professional players than most other competitions.
Perhaps for that reason, the tournament running from June 1st to June 12th had already drawn heavy interest from domestic pro clubs well before a single match kicked off.
Even now, with the games yet to begin, scouts from every K League side had claimed their seats in the stands.
“Nice weather. Perfect day for football.”
Yoo Seok-cheon was the chief scout for Seoul United, a K League club. He was the man who had taken their once slapdash scouting department and turned it into the best in the country.
Wearing a pair of stylish sunglasses, he gazed out over the pitch that would soon host the opening matches.
“When’s the Unnam High game again?”
“Come on, sunbae. You already know Unnam High plays tomorrow.”
Kim Min-woo, sitting beside him, answered with a laugh. He was a scout as well—though for a different club, FC Jeonbuk. The two had been school seniors and juniors and still kept in regular contact.
Yoo Seok-cheon ignored the gentle dig and launched into a full-blown complaint.
“Ugh, Min-woo. How am I supposed to watch fifteen matches today? All the real talent shows up tomorrow anyway. Why does the club make us start today? And the travel? I’m not young enough to keep hauling myself all the way down to Jeolla like this.”
“Hahaha! You’re still in great shape—why the drama? Besides, you already sent the juniors to the other grounds. Anyone listening would think you were covering every single game alone.”
“……Why do you always have to hit me with the facts? Still, I’ve got four matches to watch today. Seriously, Min-woo, doesn’t this feel like they’re not respecting my seniority? Should I just call the club and tell them I’m about to die of heatstroke?”
“Didn’t you just say the weather was nice? And honestly, who else would Seoul United send if not you? This year’s national tournament isn’t some ordinary event. It’s the one that traditionally floods the market with prospects. Of course they’re going to send their best scout.”
“Enough flattery. You’ll make me float away.”
“I’m only stating facts.”
“Anyway, the schedule’s brutal. Four matches a day for two straight days, and it doesn’t even end there—games keep coming. Worst part? Not a single interesting match today.”
Finished venting, Yoo Seok-cheon stared at the field with complete disinterest. Kim Min-woo looked equally unenthused as he turned his gaze toward the pitch.
“Jeongun High versus Chungjeon High. Perfect for easing into the first match.”
“Yeah, let’s just take it easy. Neither of these teams has ever put up decent results.”
“Haha, true.”
They had no idea.
They had no idea that Jeongun High—the team they expected nothing from—harbored a player of an entirely different class.
A player who, in a previous life, had finished third in the Ballon d’Or.
The whistle blew, sharp and clear.
Jeongun High kicked off.
“One-two right away. Got it?”
Oh Jung-hoon nodded at Jung Hyuk’s words.
“Obviously. We’ve practiced it enough times.”
“Let’s show them properly.”
“Okay!”
The regressed world-class midfielder and the boy with monstrous natural talent began the movement they had promised each other.
Even though a full decade had passed, Jung Hyuk still remembered the 2013 Presidential Gold Cup National High School Soccer Tournament with perfect clarity.
About ten minutes? Yeah, that was all I got.
It had been the first tournament after he obtained the Dream Card and dared to hope again. That made the disappointment cut even deeper.
I’d hoped for more chances.
In his previous life, Jung Hyuk had gone to the coach and manager before the tournament, dropped to his knees, and begged. He told them he had changed, pleaded for even a few minutes of playing time. The answer had been ice-cold.
“What have you ever shown us? How are we supposed to trust you in a national tournament? You should be grateful we even put you on the bench! Jung Hyuk, you think there’s nothing to learn from the sidelines? Sitting on the bench at a tournament like this is still valuable experience. So instead of wasting time on this nonsense, go kick a ball a few more times. Who knows? If someone gets hurt, maybe we’ll throw you on for ten minutes.”
And that was exactly what happened. A teammate’s injury gave him ten precious minutes. He hadn’t felt wronged. Even with the Dream Card, he had still only possessed C-class talent—still a thoroughly mediocre player. The regret, however, had been enormous.
That was why this tournament felt special.
This life will be different.
He looked across the field at Jeongun High’s coach, who stood watching the players through a pair of sunglasses.
I’ll show you exactly what an eighteen-year-old with S-class talent looks like.
Everything had changed after the regression. The boy who had once been a benchwarmer, who had played only ten minutes across the entire tournament, was now in the starting lineup waiting for kickoff. The team’s former dead weight had become its absolute center.
So Jung Hyuk intended to show them.
He would show every single person here a level of performance so overwhelming it would leave them speechless—the same class that had once torn through Europe.
The referee’s whistle shrieked, loud enough to ring in the ears.
The signal to begin.
Jung Hyuk smiled.
Shall we start?
His first tournament after regression had begun.
Every team has that one player who just clicks with you. The kind of partner whose next move you can read from a single glance during a match. Playing alongside someone like that makes football feel almost effortless.
Even at eighteen, Jung Hyuk had found such a partner.
Looks like he’s locked in.
Oh Jung-hoon. The boy whose natural friendliness let him get along with everyone, and who possessed talent that bordered on monstrous. In the original timeline he had been forced to abandon his dream because of injuries. This life was already taking a different path—the result of surviving the brutal training under Kang Chul-gon.
Right now that same Oh Jung-hoon was staring at Jung Hyuk with blazing eyes.
Jung Hyuk let out a quiet chuckle.
A friend with that kind of fire, and the skill to back it up. Even for a veteran like him, having someone like that on the team was a real source of strength.
Let’s rattle them from the start.
Chungjeon High, their opponents, were nowhere near a strong side. In Jung Hyuk’s memory their fundamentals were shaky, and at that young age they crumbled easily under pressure. He planned to shake them early—and luckily, Jeongun High had the kickoff.
The whistle blew. The instant it sounded, Jung Hyuk locked eyes with Oh Jung-hoon.
“One-two right away. Got it?”
Oh Jung-hoon nodded.
“Obviously. We’ve practiced it enough times.”
“Let’s show them properly.”
“Okay!”
With a loud reply, Oh Jung-hoon rolled the ball from the center circle to Jung Hyuk and immediately sprinted forward.
Thump!
Jung Hyuk took the ball lightly and advanced. His dribble was neither too fast nor too slow—exactly the tempo that let him keep perfect control and maintain his balance no matter what came next.
Pressure arrived at once. One defender closed him down while a second dropped off, cutting passing lanes and forcing him backward.
Jung Hyuk smiled at the sight.
They prepared pretty well.
The response wasn’t bad. A player of ordinary level would have felt the air leave his lungs under that kind of pressure.
Jung Hyuk was not ordinary.
Whoosh!
He dipped his upper body hard to the right. The defender bit, shifting his weight that way, certain Jung Hyuk was going to explode past him on that side.
In that same instant Jung Hyuk snapped his center of gravity back, dragged the ball with the sole of his right foot, and spun left.
Whir—thump!
The entire sequence—spin, collect, accelerate—happened in a single breath. The completely beaten defender’s eyes went wide as he shouted too late.
“Stop him!”
The corner of Jung Hyuk’s mouth curled upward.
Good. Panic just like that.
Everything was flowing exactly the way he wanted.
And in that moment the scouts watching from the stands began to murmur.
“Did you see that?”
“Yeah, but it was too fast—I couldn’t catch the details. What the hell was that just now?”
“Shit, I don’t even know if I saw what I think I saw. A player like that was at Jeongun High?”
“Explain it to me.”
Kim Min-woo pressed Yoo Seok-cheon. The older scout never took his eyes off Jung Hyuk as he answered.
“First, he didn’t flinch at all when the pressure came. He actually smiled while controlling the ball, like he’d been waiting for it. When the defender closed, he sold the body feint to the right without ever losing his balance.”
“A body feint, then? Wow…… that’s not an easy skill to pull off in a real match…… Even in the pros, players who use body feints well are rare.”
Body feint—also called an upper-body feint. A technique that uses the movement of the torso to deceive an opponent. It required exceptional balance and the ability to manipulate the ball at will; it was a genuinely difficult skill.
Kim Min-woo had put his finger on it. Yoo Seok-cheon nodded and continued.
“Right. But the even more impressive part is that after selling the body feint to the right, he turned the opposite way. For a move like that to look natural, your physical balance has to be insane. You think high-school kids can stop something like that? Impossible. What’s the kid’s name?”
Yoo Seok-cheon frantically flipped through the printed player sheets. Kim Min-woo was already scanning his own copy.
We have to sign that player first.
The exact same thought crossed both scouts’ minds at once.
Thump. Thump.
Jung Hyuk nudged the ball forward in short touches. Beating one man with flashy individual skill had put the entire opposing team on high alert. The idea that this player can break through at any moment—one man isn’t enough had been planted firmly in their heads.
Naturally, the next wave of pressure came from two players instead of one.
And every bit of it was exactly what Jung Hyuk had planned.
Shall I pull a little more aggro?
He laid the ball off to a nearby teammate. There was no need to force the issue with two men already on him. Instantly the pressure loosened.
“Again!”
At Jung Hyuk’s call, third-year Kang Hyun-jae returned the ball.
Tap—whoosh!
Jung Hyuk spun smoothly and took the touch. The movement was elegant, and it seized every Chungjeon High player’s attention.
If I raise the tempo here, they’ll rush in.
The calculation was finished. Jung Hyuk drove forward at speed. Two Chungjeon players closed him down. In front of them he began chopping his feet, selling dummy after dummy.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
“Stay calm and block! We don’t know which way he’s going!”
The two defenders refused to lunge. They kept their distance, backpedaling, trying to match his rhythm.
But Jung Hyuk’s eyes weren’t on them at all. Beyond them, he was watching Oh Jung-hoon tearing into the space behind Chungjeon High’s defensive line.
Beautiful run!
Jung Hyuk stopped the stepovers and threw one sharp body feint.
The defenders didn’t fully buy it—but it still worked. For a split second their balance wavered, creating just enough of a window to strike the ball.
That was all he needed.
Now!
Watching Oh Jung-hoon’s surging run, Jung Hyuk planted his left foot hard into the turf. The exact passing window he wanted.
And in that instant a message floated into the air before his eyes.
Movements beyond your current abilities are now possible.
(Time limit: 5 seconds)
A smile touched Jung Hyuk’s lips as he swung his leg.
Looks like a delivery pass is about to arrive, Jung-hoon.
The ankles he had forged in Kang Chul-gon’s gym now allowed powerful, rapid long passes. In his prime, Jung Hyuk’s passing accuracy had been elite. With his current body finally adapting, he was confident he could deliver a highly accurate long ball to the surging Oh Jung-hoon.
And with the special effect active right now, he was confident he could deliver a long pass that wouldn’t look out of place next to David Beckham’s.
Here it comes.
Eyes meeting Oh Jung-hoon’s far ahead, Jung Hyuk whipped his leg through the ball.
Whoosh—!
His foot struck cleanly. Boom! The ball bent like a banana, flying with vicious pace. A perfectly whipped long pass that sliced between the defense and the goalkeeper—exactly the kind of ball that is almost impossible for either to intercept.
Naturally, such a pass is also difficult to receive. Only a player with excellent first touch can settle it cleanly.
And—
“Hyuk! Killer pass, thanks!”
Even if the shout was a little flashy, Oh Jung-hoon possessed exactly that kind of first touch.
Thump!
He cushioned the ball softly, then pivoted, opening his body for the shot. Almost in the same motion he struck.
Watching from behind, Jung Hyuk shook his head in disbelief.
“What kind of eighteen-year-old has shooting timing that makes me think of Luis Suárez?”
Oh Jung-hoon’s instinctive half-beat-early strike never failed to amaze him. It was the same predatory timing currently lighting up Liverpool FC—the movement of one of the world’s finest strikers, Luis Suárez.
And the placement was just as lethal. The ball rocketed toward the exact corner of the net. No high-school goalkeeper on earth was stopping that.
It’s going in.
Jung Hyuk’s prediction was perfect. Oh Jung-hoon’s shot slammed into the Chungjeon High net with enough force to make the whole frame shudder.
In that same instant every domestic pro scout in the stadium shot to their feet. Their faces all wore the same expression of pure disbelief.
“Wh-what the hell was that?”
“Did you see it? You saw that, right?! Insane!”
“Those two are ours—don’t even think about sticking your claim on them!”
“Don’t joke. The kid who just played that pass is ours.”
“Hey! You guys said you were taking the Unnam High kids!”
“I don’t care! He’s better than the Unnam High kids! What’s his name……? Jung Hyuk? Never heard of him, but he’s a complete gem.”
“Are you seriously going to be that shameless?”
“If you bring a kid like that to the club you’re guaranteed a performance bonus at minimum. Not signing him would be pure idiocy.”
The scouts frantically began dialing their clubs.