A Resolve to Stay
“Let’s win first. Sunmoon, don’t waver.”
When Ha Sunmoon stiffened at the voice drifting in from the stands, Thomas pulled him along and spoke.
“What?”
“I said don’t waver. Let’s just win this match. We can worry about the other stadiums later.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Nothing we can do about it. We just have to do what we can.”
Vargas, who had assisted in the build-up to Sunmoon’s goal, patted his back as he spoke. Neither Vargas nor Thomas was thrilled about the situation either. Still, as they offered Sunmoon words of comfort, they were also steadying themselves. Though they spoke to him, the words were really meant for one another—and for themselves.
Oh? So the lads can think after all. At this rate, I’ll take what I can get.
Harrison nodded as he listened to the exchange. The worst might still happen, but that was a problem for later. Right now, the only sensible thing was to secure the three points and think about the rest afterward.
Unease stirred in his chest, yet Sunmoon pulled himself together and crossed the halfway line.
Atlético Madrid’s been doing well in La Liga lately. Trust them. They’ll win.
Settling into his left-back position, Sunmoon nodded.
“Right. And if I don’t want to look like a pushover, I’ve got to see this through to the end.”
Exactly. Keep that serious look on your face the whole time.
Fweeeeet!
Granada’s striker Soldado passed back to midfielder Antonio, and Sunmoon refocused on the game.
. . .
Fweet fweet fweeeeet!
The final whistle blew. The score was 1–3. Espanyol had beaten Granada by two goals. Yet not a single Espanyol player looked happy. Most of them lay on the pitch in defeat while the losing Granada players moved among them, offering quiet consolation.
“Everyone up. We need to thank the away fans.”
Captain Lopez rallied the squad. Sunmoon, head bowed as he fought back tears, trudged after him toward the traveling supporters. The sorrow of relegation was shared by everyone—players on the pitch and fans in the stands alike. The two groups of Espanyol supporters comforted one another, tending to each other’s wounds.
“Good work, all of you. Let’s head in.”
As Sunmoon and the Espanyol players made for the tunnel, someone approached.
“Ha Sunmoon. You’ve been named Man of the Match. We need you for the interview.”
“Ah…”
“Of all the days…”
“Why him, of all people?”
A collective sigh rose from the Espanyol players. Sunmoon walked toward the interview area like a calf being led to slaughter.
Tsk. No sense of timing… Still, credit where it’s due. He earned it. Chest out, Sunmoon. What did I tell you? What’s done is done—change how you carry it.
Harrison’s firm encouragement reached him. Sunmoon gave a small nod and stepped into the interview zone.
“Ha Sunmoon… congratulations on today’s victory.”
“Thank you.”
The reporter, aware of Espanyol’s relegation, chose his words carefully.
“How did the match feel?”
“It was a good game. The team clicked well, and that’s how we managed to beat a strong side like Granada. The only regret is that we won’t be competing against them—or the rest of La Liga’s top teams—next season.”
The reporter was surprised that Sunmoon had brought up relegation first, and even more impressed by how smoothly he had steered the conversation. With Harrison’s guidance, Sunmoon had spoken like an adult—and saying it aloud eased something inside him.
“You’re more mature than I expected. And very articulate.”
“Ah… thank you.”
Hah! He called you mature! Is this the same kid I know? Hahaha.
Harrison chuckled heartily while Sunmoon smiled awkwardly.
“With today’s match, you’ve finished your first-team campaign at Espanyol with four goals and eight assists. Many players struggle even after debuting at this level, so you’ve wrapped things up brilliantly.”
“It’s all thanks to my teammates who played alongside me and the fans who supported us. So… I’ll keep showing you even better performances from now on.”
Harrison tried to lighten the mood, but Sunmoon felt something rising in his chest. Sensing his discomfort, the reporter wrapped the interview at the right moment.
* * *
Creaaak.
Still weighed down, Sunmoon headed to Raul’s restaurant for a change of scenery.
“Damn it!”
“Bloody hell!”
“Why couldn’t they just… from the start…!”
He hadn’t even stepped inside before he heard the heated voices. Players hurt, but fans hurt more. Raul’s place was a favorite among Espanyol supporters, and tonight it was packed with them—drinking too much and grumbling loudly.
Maybe I shouldn’t go in…
Hmm… tricky. But I doubt any fan here would take it out on a young player like you. You came to eat something nice and lift your spirits, so just go in, enjoy your meal, and leave. Out of all the great restaurants you’ve tried, this is still your favorite, isn’t it?
Heartened by Harrison’s words, Sunmoon slowly pushed open the door.
“Huh? What’s this?”
“Ah… hello.”
Sunmoon offered a small greeting to the tipsy supporters.
“Tch… isn’t this one of the players who got us relegated?”
Oh, for—
Sunmoon. Ignore that.
“Sunmoon! You’re here!”
Raul burst out from the back, cutting the tension.
“Hey, ease up on the drinking.”
“Then was I wrong?!”
“You were! Why blame a kid who barely played this season for relegation?”
“Ah!!! Right!!! Sorry!!”
“Good grief…”
Raul shook his head.
“Come on in. Want your usual spot?”
“Yes, please.”
Sunmoon followed Raul to the table.
“Huh? It’s Sunmoon!”
A young voice called out. Turning, he saw Vegas and Annie.
“Hey, Vegas. Hey, Annie.”
“Hi!”
“Helllooo!”
Vegas greeted him warmly while Annie’s greeting was a touch too bright. Their family were long-time Espanyol fans, and the relegation news had left them in low spirits, so they’d come out to eat.
“What’s with you? You sound happier to see him than I am.”
“Of course I should. I’m the less depressed one today. Are you okay?”
The less depressed one…
Sunmoon mulled over the words, then nodded.
“I’m fine. Really.”
Annie’s overly cheerful greeting had a reason.
“But… Dad said something. Since we got relegated, are you leaving?”
Sunmoon flinched. Raul, who had been showing him to his seat, paused as well.
“Well… I’ll have to talk that over with my agent, Felipe.”
“What? So you are leaving?”
“No… that’s not what I—”
Annie looked startled. She had assumed Sunmoon would stay at Espanyol no matter what.
“No way! When Mom says stuff like that, it always means exactly that!”
“Ahem… Annie, calm down.”
Vegas tried to rein in his sister before things escalated.
Annie, we don’t know how things will turn out yet. I want to stay, but the club’s situation might not allow it. If I want to discuss it properly, I need to talk to Felipe first. And…
Sunmoon’s head was spinning with everything he wanted to say. Then he looked at Annie, still grumbling at him—“Where are you going? Why are you running away? Why won’t you answer? You’re leaving, aren’t you?!”—and a small laugh escaped him.
“Annie. I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
“Huh… okay?”
“Raul, could we order while we walk?”
“Ah! Of course. What would you like? Paella?”
“Yes. Paella and some sangria, please.”
“You’re that tired, body and mind?”
Sunmoon stared at Raul with wide eyes. How did he know?
“Well, days like this call for days like this… and the day we feared might come has arrived.”
Raul didn’t seem to have escaped the shadow of relegation either.
“Yeah.”
Sunmoon sat down and waited for the food. In the quiet that followed, he realized exactly what he wanted to do.
“Harrison.”
What is it, kid? Oh… what’s this? You looked like you were about to sulk, but your face just changed. You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?
“Yes. I’ve decided.”
Yeah? What did you decide?
“Well… the second division is still professional, right?”
Of course. It varies by league, but the second tier here is pro too.
“And if I’m a starter at my age in the second division, that means I’m doing well, doesn’t it?”
Obviously. So you want to stay?
Sunmoon nodded.
“Even if I have to leave Espanyol someday, I want to take them back to the first division first. I’m going to find a way to stay with the team.”
Harrison nodded, satisfied with Sunmoon’s choice. For a man who had grown up in an era when players rarely left their clubs, this decision felt like the right one—rooted in something real.