Awakening
Standing on the brink of our one-on-one duel, Yu Hyeon-seong fixed his gaze on me.
Truth be told, he preferred the old Cha Kang-min.
The explosive, unpredictable style that dominated every player on the pitch with overwhelming force.
That was the idol he admired.
The current senior... how should I put it?
Yu Hyeon-seong struggled for the right words before settling on one.
He feels like a cog in the team machine.
Yes, a cog.
These days, Cha Kang-min played less like a star and more like a versatile gear—ready to slot into any position to keep the team running smoothly.
Of course, every squad needed a lubricant like that. A multi-role player of his caliber would be welcomed anywhere, Yu Hyeon-seong figured. Hell, he was underrated.
If not for the injury history, clubs would have been lining up to sign him.
Coming to London City would definitely help the team.
Because this version of Cha Kang-min played football for the team—the kind every manager dreams of. That must be why William the GM was pushing so hard for the signing.
But, senior.
Yu Hyeon-seong thought to himself: the Cha Kang-min he idolized didn't play this dull brand of soccer.
A sudden surge of anger welled up.
I've come this far because of you.
If he was just going to be a team player, he could've stayed in Korea. These days, K League standouts could break into the Premier League.
But Yu Hyeon-seong idolized the Cha Kang-min who'd started in the fourth tier and demolished everything in his path.
He wanted that guy back. So why was his idol wandering around like this?
"Senior."
He called out to me, resentment lacing his voice.
"Yeah?"
I turned with a soft smile. But that wasn't the look he wanted. This was a battlefield of a pitch. He craved eyes that devoured the opponent whole.
My heart isn't racing.
Finally sharing the field with his idol for a duel, and it fell flat.
The Cha Kang-min who'd set his pulse pounding wasn't this tame. He wanted something wilder—a beast unleashed, driven by pure instinct.
So Yu Hyeon-seong swallowed his daring words.
"You've changed, senior."
That was what he wanted to say.
My eyes widened. He must have been shocked by the shift from his usual polite demeanor.
Right on cue.
The perfect moment to jolt me. The spark to drag me back to my old self. And he wanted to be the one to light it.
So.
"Just for this moment, I want to see the old you."
"...What?"
"Pardon the rudeness. Forgive my impertinence."
With those words, Yu Hyeon-seong charged.
He slammed a brutal tackle into my ball, stealing it clean,
—whoosh!
and buried it in the net on the opposite side.
"...Yu Hyeon-seong?"
I stared at stared at him blankly.
He looked pretty rattled by his own sudden outburst.
Of course, he wouldn't show it, but no player likes losing the ball.
Especially since Yu Hyeon-seong had deliberately mimicked my old style.
That ferocious, predatory rush.
The version he wanted me to show.
Of course, he knew my explosiveness had died with the injury.
Even so.
"Just this once. I want to face the Cha Kang-min who chewed up England's lower leagues."
Yu Hyeon-seong taunted me.
Toward my flustered self, he smirked with one corner of his mouth.
"Of course, the current you couldn't shake me off."
Crack.
Seeing the vein bulge on my forehead, Yu Hyeon-seong dropped into a low stance.
I admit it.
I've been playing for others.
Ever since my return from injury.
My knee no longer moved like before.
I couldn't beat defenders one-on-one.
So I had to change my style.
Passes became my priority, and before I knew it, my position slid from forward down the lineup. My teammate Son Tae-young kept saying it back then.
"Hyung-nim, can't you play a bit more selfishly?"
Selfish football.
Yeah, that's how I used to roll. I'd demand the ball from midfielders, defenders, even other forwards. Hand it all over—I'd smash them to pieces.
But now, I pass everything off.
What choice do I have?
My explosiveness is dead. I can't beat anyone.
For an attacker, whose job is to crush the opponent, that means I'm lacking the basics.
I have no talent as a forward anymore.
Doesn't it embarrass you to admit that?
No.
I loved soccer—this pitch—that much. I'd swallow my pride, my identity, just to stay on it.
But then.
"Just this once. I want to face the Cha Kang-min who chewed up England's lower leagues."
One punk provokes me.
A hollow laugh escaped. After all that good-junior act, he pulls this? If he meant to shock me, it hit dead center.
A sly fox on the grass. Classic Yu Hyeon-seong.
The ball he'd stolen from me. My net rippling.
"Of course, the current you couldn't shake me off."
His words stabbed deep.
Yu Hyeon-seong, the defensive midfielder who'd led U-23 World Cup glory. Yeah, current me couldn't beat him.
But I got what his taunt really meant.
—Show me the soccer that blew my young mind.
Fine.
If you want a show, you'll get one.
I wasn't the type to back down here.
But holding the ball, hesitation crept in.
My soccer. What was it?
I planted the ball on the turf and sank into thought. The style I'd lost. The one I'd abandoned because I couldn't beat anyone.
Why had I given it up?
...Fear.
If I kept losing possession, I'd get dropped from the squad.
Terror.
That everyone would abandon me, leave me to starve.
Dread.
That I'd never touch this pitch again.
But.
I realized something.
I had solid backup now, more than anything.
Funny enough, it wasn't my passion for soccer or anything grand—just a pair of worn-out cleats.
Even if I failed this challenge.
I won't starve.
The thought hit, and—
Thump!
My heart pounded wildly.
Blood surged, time slowed.
My feet sharpened, every blade of grass prickling underfoot. I felt his heartbeat, his balance, the direction of his gaze.
I held my breath.
Like a hunter before the pounce.
Hiding my intent, I scanned him.
Weaknesses. Gaps. Instinct locked on.
"......"
When I snapped back, the ball arced in a perfect parabola.
—Whoosh!
Slicing the net.
""......""
Silence blanketed the pitch.
We were all stunned, me included.
That movement—it was my pre-injury style, alive and kicking.
"Un-be-liev-able!"
A shout rang out.
William the GM stood there.
His face mixed shock and ecstasy.
The board overflowed with Leo Silva chatter: praise for his transfer, wage guesses, curses from heartbroken Bristol City fans.
And below it all, a quiet rising post.
The clip showed me nutmegging Yu Hyeon-seong with dazzling skill and slotting it home.
The comments brimmed with anticipation for my return.
And one person watching those posts.
"What the—why is he at London City?!"
Han Ye-jin shrieked in her office, face flushed crimson. She snatched her phone.