POV:
A young, petite little girl, barely taller than her father's knee, stared at the door. She had long hair, amber brown eyes and a cute nose. Her arms were folded, and there was an expression of impatience in her face. Her eyes were focused on the door handle. Finally, after a few minutes of waiting, she sighed and looked away.
"Why isn't Jae-il home yet?" Mia grunted.
She had been looking forward to her little brother's return ever since her father announced he was going to take him to football practice. He said they'd be back by dinner time, but it was way past that.
"Mom!"
Eun Ha was busy preparing the table for the family, while Su Ah helped her with the dishes.
"Yes, Mia?"
"Jae-il and Dad are taking too long."
Her mom gave her a look and sighed, putting the last plate down. "They'll come back when they're done, Mia."
"It's not fair! He gets all the attention and I don't!" Mia pouted and stamped her foot. "I'm the older sister!"
Su Ah gave her a quiet, sharp look—which Mia willfully ignored.
Eun Ha chuckled and patted her head affectionately, as if she was a little child.
"Mia, please behave yourself. Your brother will be here soon enough."
Mia huffed and crossed her arms. She didn't like that her little brother was getting more attention than her, or the fact that he, in particular, didn't give any to her.
In fact, Mia and Su Ah rarely saw him nowadays. He was too serious for his age!
She was about to voice her discontent when a car could be heard parking in the driveway. A moment later, the sound of the front door opening reached her ears.
Her eyes widened. "They're back!"
Mia quickly turned around and ran towards the entrance, Su Ah following close behind her, a little more composed, but just as curious.
"Welcome back, dad!" Mia exclaimed as she approached him. However, all she received was a quick pat on the head before the man hurried towards his wife.
"Honey, you wouldn't believe it!" Yeong Gu began in excitement, his voice brimming with emotion. He looked like a child who'd just discovered a new toy. "You won't believe it!"
"What is it, dear?" Eun Ha chuckled, placing a pot of stew on the table.
Her husband took a deep breath, and spoke. "I took our son to the local football club today. You know, for him to try it out and see if he likes it. But he..." Yeong Gu paused dramatically, his eyes widening in excitement as he looked at his family in turn, as if to build suspense. "He played amazingly, honey! He's incredible!"
As if on cue, a sweaty Jae-il trailed after his father, a ball under his arm, and a tired, worn-down expression on his face. "Hello."
"That's my boy!" Yeong Gu beamed and ruffled his son's hair, who looked at him with mild disapproval. "The coach at the club said that if he keeps practicing like this, he could become a national star one day!"
"Jae-il!" Eun Ha's eyes sparkled with pride. "You were always so special, but I had no idea you were talented in sports as well. Just today I received Teacher Han's report, saying you've gotten another perfect score in your tests."
Both Yeong Gu and Eun Ha's eyes softened with pride as they stared at the little jewel of the household.
"Uhm... thank you?" Jae-il said uncertainly, not knowing what else to say. The attention was making him uncomfortable. It didn't feel earned, because only he knew of his particular circumstance. "Can I go to my room now...?"
Yeong Gu nodded eagerly. "Yes, of course. Take a bath and wash up for dinner. We have something to celebrate tonight!"
Jae-il's gaze met the ground, and he started to walk towards the stairs, but not before he was stopped by his mother's arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. "I'm so proud of you." She whispered in his ear, her voice filled with emotion. "We're so lucky to have such a wonderful son like you."
Jae-il stood still and awkwardly returned the hug. "Thanks, mom..." He muttered.
Mia and Su Ah observed the whole exchange silently.
As they watched their little brother trudge up the stairs, the older sister crossed her arms, biting her lip. "What's so special about him?" She snapped, resentfully.
Su Ah kept quiet, like the observant little lady that she was. She could sense the tension between her older sister and little brother.
But, for the sake of harmony, she decided to not make it worse.
Mia, however, had always been someone who acted more on her emotions than on rationality. The fact that her brother got so much praise only served to infuriate her further. She had worked hard for her parents' attention too, but it seemed like everything came naturally to Jae-il. It wasn't fair
"I'll be in my room." Mia muttered, and Su Ah sighed. She knew that this haughty sister of hers would be anywhere but her room.
xXx
The water trickled down my skin, hot enough to melt away the stress and soreness from my limbs. I didn't feel as tired as I would have in my previous life. My stamina had increased significantly. I was younger, more fit, and, most importantly, more determined.
I didn't want to waste time—especially not now, with a football finally in my hands. There was a long road ahead if I wanted to regain my former strength, technique, and speed. But for now, the most important part was to have fun. There'd be no point in being good at kicking a ball if it didn't bring joy.
I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around myself.
The steam in the bathroom slowly dispersed, and I caught my reflection in the mirror.
Dark black hair, purple eyes, and a small face. I didn't exactly look like a football prodigy. Not the kind of face you'd expect to see plastered on football magazines—too pretty, too delicate to belong to a professional player.
By the time I got dressed and was heading down for dinner, Mia intercepted me.
"Mia Noona."
She stood by the stairs, arms folded, staring me down.
"I've heard the news," she began, her tone even, though she glanced briefly away.
Still a little too young for intimidation tactics.
"Congratulations."
I could barely hear her.
"Thank you..." I murmured, unsure what else to say.
She gritted her teeth and pushed off the wall, stalking toward me. We still had a considerable height gap, but I'd overtake her in a couple of years easily. "I'm glad you're having fun, little brother."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not sure why you're telling me this."
"Because you're my precious brother." She smiled brightly, and I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "So… I was wondering if you could share your secret of success with me, hm?"
"There's no secret. I'm not doing anything special," I said, giving her a sideways glance. I wasn't really in the mood for a deep talk.
"Oh… really?" She narrowed her eyes. "Because I think you are doing something special. And I don't like secrets in this house." Her eyes glittered—not with tears, but with that sharp, glinty frustration of a kid who knew she'd just been excluded from something big.
I blinked. "I really just… practiced, Mia Noona."
"Hah! Practiced." She scoffed and took a couple of steps back and forth, pacing like a tiny general inspecting her troops. "I practiced my piano every single day for two years and no one ever said I'd be a national star."
I nodded slowly. "You're good at piano."
"That's not the point!" she snapped, her composure cracking for a moment. "The point is—everyone keeps saying you're amazing and gifted and incredible, and all you did was kick a ball around for one day. I wrote a poem about Grandma last month and cried while reading it out loud, and all Dad said was 'That's nice, Mia.'"
I blinked again. I wanted to say something kind, something grown-up and wise, but it's hard to sound like a wise old soul when you still have a baby tooth hanging by a thread.
So I went with honesty. "I didn't mean to steal the attention. I don't even like being the center of it."
Mia turned to me abruptly. "Then give it back."
"What?"
"The attention. Share it."
I stared at her. How did one go about dividing attention like slices of cake? "How do I—?"
She cut me off by grabbing my shoulders and spinning me toward the stairs. "You'll find a way, dummy. You're supposed to be the smartest kid in the house."
"I thought that was Su Ah."
"She's smart, but you're supposed to be a genius or something, which is different, somehow. Adults can never decide which one they like better, though."
I let out an irritated sigh. "Mia Noona, does it really matter who likes who better? We're all family, right? If you really need someone to tell you that you're amazing, I can do it. No need to get validation from our parents; that's just unhealthy."
She turned away, her lower lip trembling. "I don't care about what you think." She muttered. "It's their opinion that matters."
I looked at her for a moment—really looked. Then, quietly, I said, "Noona… if their love can be taken away just because someone else shines for a moment, then maybe it was never as real as you thought."
That stopped her.
Mia froze, her breath catching. Her lips parted, like she wanted to argue—but nothing came out. She just stood there, staring at me with wide eyes, blinking like someone who'd just heard a crack in the foundation of something they thought would never break.
I stepped past her, calm and steady. "And for what it's worth… I've always thought you were amazing. Even when you didn't see me at all."
And with that, I left her standing there in the hall, fists clenched at her sides, her face a tangled mess of anger, confusion, and something that looked a lot like fear.
Chapter 5: The First Goal
Life went on as usual. It had become a routine for me. Wake up, eat breakfast, practice football, come home, eat lunch, practice football, eat dinner, practice football, and go to sleep. Rinse and repeat. The rest of my time was spent studying and reading books. Occasionally, I'd play with Mia and Su Ah, though the former was less than cooperative.
I was seven years old now. A lot more independent, but not quite at the stage where I could freely make my own choices. My parents had decided that I should join a private school, which didn't bother me at all. In fact, I preferred it. Public schools tended to have more distractions, whereas I found that private institutions offered more structure and discipline.
I was a few inches taller, and my body had matured a bit. I had the physique of a young child athlete. My face was still the same, though; soft and delicate, which I hated. I didn't like the fact that I looked cute, but I was sure that genetics would kick in the moment I hit puberty.
Hopefully, I won't end up resembling a flower boy. I couldn't imagine myself as one of those K-pop idols with their perfect hair and makeup.
As expected, my parents spared no expense on my education. The school I attended was one of the most prestigious in the area, and it showed. The facilities were state-of-the-art, the teachers were well-educated professionals, and the students were from affluent families. It was like a small community of privileged children.
From the favelas of Rio to the private schools of Seoul.
It's like I was meant to experience a complete turnaround in social status from the get go. After all, I only ever reached front page popularity when my career peaked. As for my football practices, I joined a grassroot club. They were decent enough, and the trainers were pretty good.
Though I was aiming higher, and so was my father.
He knew important people—and some of these people knew the right ones to call when the opportunity arises.
An opportunity to enter the Youth League.
Yeong Gu wanted to enroll me in one of the country's top football schools. Unfortunately, the open tryouts would only be held during summer holidays. Still a couple of months left.
In the meanwhile, I was preparing myself for my first official game. It was a friendly match between schools. There was nothing exciting about it; the only spectators were parents, siblings and relatives. Just enough of a crowd to make it seem like a real event.
Our school, Suryong Private School, was facing off against another private institution. Both teams consisted of U-10 players. In my case, I was the only 7 years old in our team. As I stared at my teammates warming up, I felt second hand embarrassment. Some were goofing around, others were joking and laughing, while some were simply sitting on the sidelines and chatting with their friends.
It didn't matter if it was a friendly match, I couldn't stand this lackadaisical attitude.
"Hey, guys!" I called out to them. They turned towards me, confused. "We're about to play a match, shouldn't we be focusing on getting ready?"
My teammates exchanged glances, before one of them, a boy with a square jaw and a crew cut, spoke up. "We're only playing a bunch of noobs, why bother? We'll just beat them anyway."
"Even if the team you're facing is bad, you shouldn't underestimate your opponents." I argued. "You should always treat every match as if it were the championship."
The rest of the team snickered and laughed. "Alright, alright, we'll do what the baby wants." The boy said, rolling his eyes.
I frowned, not liking the condescending tone he used. "Fine, whatever." I replied, turning away from them.
I knew they weren't taking me seriously, but that was fine by me. If they wanted to slack off, then I wouldn't waste my energy trying to change their minds.
Honestly, imparting wisdom onto them would be as useful as trying to teach a dog how to speak. They were, at most, just kids. I didn't want to act like a know-it-all either, not unless I could prove it on the pitch.
Against not even 10 year old kids?
Ah, how the mighty have fallen.
xXx
Eun Has's POV:
Yeong Gu, Eun Ha, and their two daughters sat among the other parents and siblings who were waiting for the game to start. Yeong Gu was wearing a black suit and tie, while Eun Ha wore a simple dress. The latter garnered a lot of attention due to her beauty, which only widened the satisfied smile on the former.
Su Ah wore a bored frown, clearly not caring about the event. She had come along to support Jae-il, but her attention was focused elsewhere. Mia wasn't particularly interested either, too busy playing on her dad's phone.
When the whistle blew, signaling the beginning of the match, both teams took their positions.
On one side, there was a group of kids wearing blue uniforms with red stripes running down the sides, while on the other side were a group of kids in white shirts with blue shorts.
"Our Jae-il looks so cute!" Eun Ha squealed happily as she watched her son jog towards the center of the field, taking his position in the midfield. He was wearing the blue uniform, with the number 9 on his back.
Yeong Gu chuckled at his wife's enthusiasm. "I'm looking forward to seeing him play." He said, smiling fondly. "I've seen him play a couple of times. The coach's told me he's a prodigy."
Su Ah glanced at her father, her expression unchanging. "Is he really that good?" There was a trace of good-natured skepticism.
"Of course he is!" Eun Ha exclaimed proudly. "My little angel is amazing at everything he does!"
Mia, however, remained silent throughout the conversation, her eyes still glued to the phone.
The match began with a kick-off from the blue team. A short, chubby kid received the ball and dribbled towards the opposition's half. He was immediately surrounded by two opponents, and he lost possession of the ball. The white team quickly advanced forward with a counterattack, their forwards sprinting past the midfielders.
Jae-il's teammates were barely keeping up. They were disorganized and lacked coordination.
The chubby boy who lost the ball had returned to the defensive line, trying to help out his teammates.
"Defense! Defense!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.
But his cries fell on deaf ears as the white team broke through the defensive line and fired a shot at the goal.
"Goal!" One of the parents rose up to clap as the ball sailed past the goalkeeper's outstretched hands and into the net.
The crowd cheered loudly, while the players celebrated the first goal.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the field, the blue team looked dejected. Some of them were visibly frustrated, while others looked bored or apathetic. The only exception to the rule was the little 7 year old, whose face was set in an indifferent expression.
The chubby boy, whose name was Joo Won, shrunk in embarrassment. While the taken goal was the whole team's mistake, he was the one to provide the opponents with the opportunity. "S-Sorry..." Shit—his parents had been watching too.
"Don't worry about it." Jae-il patted the boy's shoulder as he walked by, his stride unhurried. "We've got a lot of time to catch up."
Joo Won nodded, and quickly got back into position as the match restarted. His teammates, on the other hand, didn't seem to share the same optimism. They were clearly demoralized, and they were already showing signs of giving up. Then again, what could Jae-il expect from a bunch of kids? They were not even from a legit football club.
The match resumed with a kick-off from the blue team.
Eun Ha's enthusiasm took a little of a blow when, not even a couple of minutes into the game, her son's team was already at a disadvantage. "Oh no! Our baby is losing!" She cried out.
Yeong Gu patted her hand reassuringly. "Don't worry. They still have time to turn it around." His voice was full of confidence.
Eun Ha looked at him hopefully, nodding. "I hope so." She turned back to the field, and continued silently cheering for her son.
The whistle blew. This time, the ball was tapped back from the center spot to one of Suryong's midfielders, a lanky kid who immediately looked panicked as two white-shirted players converged on him. He hoofed it forward aimlessly.
Jae-il, positioned slightly ahead, watched the clumsy pass sail towards the opposing defenders. Amateurs, he thought, a familiar sigh echoing in his mind. 'Fine. If you won't play properly, I will.'
He didn't sprint. Instead, he glided, his tiny legs a blur of controlled motion, intercepting the hopeful clearance from an opposing defender who had misjudged the high, awkward ball. It landed softly at Jae-il's feet, as if magnetically drawn there.
Immediately, two opponents from the white team swarmed him, their bigger frames attempting to box him in. The boy with the square jaw from his own team shouted, "Pass it, Jae-il! Pass!"
Jae-il ignored him. He wasn't being arrogant; he was being efficient. A pass to any of his current teammates was a risk he wasn't willing to take.
With a subtle feint to his left, a mere dip of his shoulder, he sent one defender stumbling. The other lunged, but Jae-il was already gone, the ball an extension of his foot as he performed a quick la croqueta, shifting it from his right to his left foot in a movement so fluid it was almost invisible, slipping through the narrow gap between them.
The small crowd murmured. Yeong Gu leaned forward, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Now in open space, Jae-il surveyed the field. His teammates were still jogging, some looking surprised he'd even kept possession. The opponents' defensive line was high, overconfident.
He saw his striker, the same square-jawed boy, making a half-hearted run, more out of obligation than genuine anticipation. Jae-il could have threaded a perfect through-ball, but he doubted the boy's ability to control it, let alone finish.
No. This one's mine.
He accelerated, his small frame belying the explosive power in his legs. The ball seemed glued to his cleats as he weaved past another midfielder who tried a desperate slide tackle.
Jae-il simply hopped over the outstretched leg, the ball lifted momentarily with the outside of his boot before settling back into his stride. It was the kind of effortless grace that spoke of countless hours, no, a lifetime of practice.
The last defender, a tall, slightly gangly kid, stood between him and the goalkeeper.
The defender looked nervous, his eyes wide. Jae-il approached, then, with a sudden burst of speed, faked a shot with his right foot. The defender flinched, committing his weight. Jae-il dragged the ball back with the sole of his boot, pirouetted around the now off-balance boy, and found himself face-to-face with the goalkeeper.
The keeper, brave but outmatched, rushed out. Jae-il didn't panic. He didn't blast it. With a delicate chip, almost casual, he lofted the ball over the keeper's desperate dive. It floated, as if in slow motion, before nestling gently into the back of the net.
Silence.
Then, Eun Ha's shriek of pure joy pierced the air. "JAE-IL! MY ANGEL!"
Yeong Gu was clapping, a broad, proud smile on his face. Su Ah, for the first time, actually looked up from her phone, an eyebrow slightly raised. Mia, surprisingly, had also paused her game, her small eyes fixed on her younger brother.
On the field, Jae-il's teammates stared, mouths agape. The square-jawed boy who had told him to pass looked particularly stunned. Joo Won, the chubby defender, was beaming.
The opposing team looked bewildered. They had been undone not by a team, but by a single, tiny seven-year-old who moved like a seasoned professional.
Even the adults were floored by what they were seeing—especially the more football-savvy ones.
"Who is that kid?"
"Did you just see what he did?"
"Must've been a fluke, right?"
"..."
Jae-il simply turned and jogged back to the center circle, his expression unchanged, though a flicker of grim satisfaction warmed him internally. There wasn't really any glory to destroying a bunch of kids in a profession he lived and died for, but what was he supposed to do?
Hold back like an idiot?
The game restarted. The white team, now wary, tried to mark Jae-il with two, sometimes three players. It didn't matter.
The moment the ball came near him, he'd invariably secure it. If they pressed him too hard, he'd use their aggression against them, a quick turn, a sudden burst of pace, and he'd be free. His passes, when he chose to make them, were precise, weighted perfectly, though they often went begging as his teammates struggled to anticipate or control them.
So, he scored again.
This time, he picked up the ball deep in his own half after another sloppy pass from his team. He didn't sprint immediately. He dribbled, head up, drawing opponents towards him like moths to a flame.
As three converged, he executed a perfect elastico, the ball seeming to defy physics as it snaked around a defender's legs.
He then threaded a pass between two more, ran onto his own pass as it ricocheted favorably (or perhaps he'd planned it that way) off a stunned teammate's shin, and, from twenty yards out, unleashed a shot.
It wasn't a powerhouse strike, not with his seven-year-old physique. But it was perfectly placed, curling into the top corner, far beyond the goalkeeper's limited reach.
2-1.
"Did you see that? Did you see my son?!" Eun Ha was practically bouncing in her seat, grabbing Yeong Gu's arm.
"He's... not bad." Su Ah conceded, actually surprised.
Jae-il's teammates were now looking at him with a mixture of awe and fear. The square-jawed boy, during a brief pause as the ball went out of play, jogged over.
"H-hey, Jae-il…" He stammered, his earlier condescension gone. "That was... incredible. How do you do that?"
Jae-il just looked at him. "Focus on your positioning. When I have the ball, make a smart run."
He didn't wait for a reply, already moving to take the throw-in.
The first half continued in a similar vein. The opposition, frustrated and demoralized, started making mistakes. Their coach was yelling from the sidelines, but his instructions were useless against Jae-il's almost supernatural talent.
Jae-il scored a third goal, a mazy dribble that started near the halfway line, where he slalomed past four bewildered defenders before slotting the ball coolly past the keeper.
Then, for his fourth, he actually used a teammate. He drew the entire defense to himself before laying off a simple square pass to Joo Won, who had surprisingly lumbered forward into an open position. Joo Won, shocked to receive the ball with an open goal gaping, managed to scuff it into the net.
Joo Won looked like he might cry from happiness, mobbed by Jae-il who gave him a quick, professional pat on the head. Even that small gesture seemed to galvanize the chubby boy.
The score was 4-1 when the whistle blew for halftime. Jae-il had scored three and assisted one.
As he walked off the pitch, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he saw his family.
Eun Ha was waving frantically. Yeong Gu gave him a thumbs up and a proud nod. Su Ah was actually smiling, a small, genuine smile. Even Mia offered a tiny, almost imperceptible wave.
His teammates followed him, no longer joking or goofing around. They were quiet, occasionally stealing glances at the small boy who had single-handedly turned the game on its head.
The square-jawed boy trotted beside him. "Jae-il… you're insane."
Jae-il only shrugged. They had no idea. This was nothing to him, almost a game. Fun fact, it indeed was. Still, it was a start. Just a tiny step toward the deafening roar of the crowd, the rush of true competition, and the glory he meant to reclaim—and, this time—surpass.
For now, dismantling a U-10 school team would have to do. Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:PassingBy, Vodoo_Woodpecker, Demon_queen and 178 others
Chapter 6: The First Goal II
The whistle blew for halftime. Jae-il's coach, a portly man named Mr. Kang who usually spent friendly matches making small talk, approached him with a stunned expression. "Jae-il…" He began, then paused, seemingly lost for words. "Just... keep doing whatever that was."
'This kid…'
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The other boys, who had earlier dismissed him, now gathered around, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The square-jawed boy, whose name was Min-jun, looked particularly sheepish.
Despite being the shortest in the team, everyone surrounded Jae-il as if he were the sun itself. In that brief halftime, the hierarchy in the team had been established.
Even the captain couldn't bring himself to say anything.
Across the small field, the scene in the opposing team's huddle was grim. Their coach's voice, initially loud and instructional, was now resigned, more than anything else.
He gave some half-hearted suggestions, to which was half-heartedly listened to.
The players, who had started the game with confident swagger, now looked deflated, some staring at the ground, others glancing nervously towards the small figure in the number 9 blue shirt.
"He's…" Eun Ha didn't know a whole lot about football—just the basics. Her husband could've definitely shed more knowledge, but even he wasn't that big of a fan. Still, Jae-il's performance was absolutely dominating. "Amazing."
Children playing shouldn't have been this entertaining to watch. After all, it was just a bunch of kids running after a ball, right?
It didn't matter that the pitch was muddy, the goals were slightly lopsided, and the referee, who doubled as a teacher for the white team's private school, might have been a bit biased.
The crowd, mostly parents and a few straggling students who had no other choice, was now paying rapt attention. Even the teachers from both schools, usually disinterested observers, were watching with a certain intensity.
"I've never seen anything like it." Yeong Gu admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and awe.
One of the parents from the other team turned to him. "Is he really only seven years old?"
Yeong Gu nodded, a satisfied grin on his face, his arms crossed over his imposing pot-belly. "Yes. He's a little prodigy."
The opposing parent's face was a mixture of envy and astonishment. "He's... incredible." The man conceded, shaking his head.
The other mothers and fathers, who had initially come to cheer on their own children, were now fixated on Jae-il.
"He's so cute!"
"Look at him go!"
"How does he do that?"
"You must be so proud!"
Yeong Gu basked in the compliments, nodding and smiling at everyone who praised his son. Eun Ha, while not quite as outwardly boastful as her husband, wore a content smile.
Mia and Su Ah, however, were observing the match with different eyes, their reactions a study in contrasts as they listened to the chorus of praise for their younger brother.
Su Ah, who had initially been more engrossed in the patterns on her own fingernails than the game, now had her chin resting on her hand, her gaze fixed on the small, whirling figure of her brother.
The bored frown had vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine surprise. "He's… not terrible." She conceded, her voice low, almost as if speaking to herself. Then, a beat later, addressing her beaming mother. "Mom, did you teach him that spinny thing? Or did he just… learn it from a cartoon?" It was a typical Su Ah question, a blend of curiosity and a slight, almost academic detachment, but the fact she was asking at all spoke volumes.
She wasn't gushing, but the faint arch of her eyebrow suggested she was re-evaluating her little brother's capabilities. The usual chaos of kids' sports hadn't prepared her for this level of… competence.
Certainly not from her brother.
Mia, on the other hand, was a tempest in a teacup. Her initial disinterest, feigned or otherwise, had morphed into a complicated knot of emotions. She squirmed in her seat, her arms crossed tightly. "Hmph." She muttered, loud enough for her parents to hear over the din of Jae-il-centric praise. "It's just one game. And they're just a bunch of clumsy oafs he's playing against." She crossed her arms, looking away.
When Eun Ha cooed. "Isn't he just the best, Mia?"
Mia merely tossed her hair; she had been planning on dyeing it blonde. "He's okay, I guess. But dad, remember when I scored three goals in that mini-hockey game last year? Three! And I didn't even practice that much." She punctuated her statement with a pointed look at Yeong Gu, who was still glowing.
"Yes, sweetie, that was wonderful." Yeong Gu said, giving her a quick pat on the head without taking his eyes off the field where Jae-il was now receiving instructions from his awestruck coach.
Mia's pout deepened. It wasn't that she wasn't proud—a tiny, traitorous part of her was bouncing inside, watching her little brother make everyone's jaws drop.
But all this attention! It was like Jae-il had a giant magnet for it, and she was just… there, another face in his adoring crowd. "And he still looks like a baby when he runs." She added under her breath, though there was no real malice in it, more like a desperate attempt to find a flaw in the golden boy image currently being projected.
She then nudged Su Ah, who was still watching Jae-il with that new, analytical expression. "He's probably going to be unbearable after this, isn't he? All 'I'm Jae-il the Great Football Star!'" She mimicked in a low, teasing voice, though a small, reluctant smile played on her lips.
Truth was that Jae-il would likely never mention his talent for the sport. He had always been like this. Always so quiet, unnervingly intelligent at times, and so… infuriatingly perfect.
Su Ah just gave a non-committal shrug, a faint, almost impressed smile on her own face now. "Maybe. But he might actually be one."
Mia sighed dramatically. It was going to be a long second half, listening to everyone sing Jae-il's praises. Maybe she could convince dad to buy her ice cream and Jae-il later, just to even things out a bit. Or better yet, challenge Jae-il to a race later. She could still beat him at that. Probably.
When the second half kicked off, the white team's strategy was painfully obvious: stop Jae-il at all costs. Two, then three, sometimes even four players swarmed him the moment the ball came near his vicinity.
It was a desperate, chaotic tactic. For Jae-il, it was like watching children try to catch smoke with their bare hands. He'd draw them in, a tiny matador facing a herd of bewildered bulls, then with a subtle shift of weight, a quick drag-back, or an explosive burst of pace that defied his small frame, he'd glide past them, leaving them tripping over each other in their haste.
The scoreboard, already lopsided at 4-1, began to tick over with an almost brutal regularity.
Jae-il added another goal himself, a cheeky, perfectly placed free-kick that curled around their haphazardly assembled wall and into the net before the keeper could even react. Then, he decided to share the 'glory,' if one could call it that. He began to dissect the increasingly panicked and disorganized white defense with passes that his teammates, now looking to him for every cue, simply had to tap in.
Joo Won, beaming, got his second goal this way. Even Min-jun, the square-jawed boy, managed to score, looking utterly astonished as Jae-il's perfectly weighted through-ball left him one-on-one with the keeper.
The absolute disaster for the opposing team unfolded with grim predictability.
Their attempts to nullify Jae-il left vast, untended prairies of space elsewhere.
Their players started shouting at each other, frantic gestures replacing any semblance of teamwork. Especially their goalkeeper—the kid had probably envisioned a quiet afternoon, yet now he flinched every time Jae-il got within thirty yards.
He let in two more soft goals, one a long-range effort from Jae-il that he fumbled over the line, the other a simple pass that trickled through his legs after Jae-il had drawn him out and laid it off. The boy looked utterly broken.
The parents on the opposing side had fallen silent, their earlier cheers replaced by murmurs of disbelief and then resigned quiet.
When the referee finally blew the whistle, putting an end to the carnage, the score read an almost unbelievable Suryong Private School 12, Opposing Team 1.
Jae-il had personally accounted for eight goals and orchestrated three of the assists, the twelfth goal being a comical own goal as a defender, under pressure from Jae-il's mere presence near the box, wildly sliced a clearance into his own net.
The players in white trudged off, a portrait of dejection. A few of the smaller ones were openly crying, consoled awkwardly by their equally stunned parents. It wasn't just a loss; it was a public dismantling by a single, diminutive seven-year-old.
Jae-il, barely breaking a sweat, accepted the awestruck pats on the back from his teammates. Min-jun approached him, eyes still wide. "I... I've never seen anything like that, Jae-il. You're not human."
Jae-il just shrugged, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as he looked towards his beaming family.
Eun Ha was already rushing towards the sideline, Yeong Gu nodding with immense pride, Su Ah actually looking impressed, and Mia… Mia was giving him a small, slow clap, though she was obviously not looking at him.
This was nothing. But it was a start.
He could already hear the deafening roar of 60 thousand fans screaming his name.
After he extricated himself from Eun Ha's clingy embrace and Yeong Gu's words of praise, he walked towards his sisters. He reached them, his expression as placid as ever, though a keen observer might have noted the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, you took long enough already." She crossed her arms. Typical Mia trying to assert some kind of stupid superiority. "Hmph, done showing off?"
Su Ah, who had been quietly watching him approach, spoke softly, her gaze curious. "Jae-il… that one goal… where the ball went all bendy and weird in the air. How did you… make it do that?"
Jae-il offered a patient smile, lopsided and a little knowing. "It's mostly in the way you connect with the ball, Su Ah Noona. A bit of practice." He then turned his gaze to Mia, whose pout deepened even further. "And it's now showing off, Mia Noona. Wouldn't it have been more insulting to the opposing team if I didn't give my all in every game? It just so happens that my giving it all usually amounts to quite a lot of points. But… it is indeed unfair. I am quite the star, aren't I? Heh."
Mia, who had been ready to continue her teasing, suddenly felt her words catch in her throat.
She was used to his odd maturity, his unflappable calm in the face of her... well, everything, but sometimes it hit her anew just how different her little brother was from other children. Other people in general.
At times, she almost expected him to be quiet and boring. If not for those times he'd act his actual age.
Like now, his mischievous glint matching the toothy smile on his small face. "Don't you agree? Yes, you must admit it as well. Your dear, little, innocent, brother, is simply the brightest star. Isn't it true? No?"
"No, you're not!" She snorted, fighting off a blush. She crossed her arms and briefly looked away.
He chuckled softly, a surprisingly deep sound coming from such a small frame. "Come on, now. Don't pout on me. I've heard you could get your lips stuck like that the more you do it."
Mia's lips unpuckered so fast Jae-il had to hold back a laugh. She was about to pepper him with her tiny fists before he took a step back and made a tempting proposal. "Anyway, wanna grab some ice cream?"
"Ice cream?" She repeated, blinking.
"I believe our dad owes us some." Jae-il turned his head slightly, catching their father's eye. Yeong Gu, still basking in the afterglow of the match, grinned and nodded enthusiastically, clearly happy to indulge his son after such a performance.
Mia, despite her earlier protests about Jae-il's 'showing off', couldn't help but break into a grin.
Ice cream did sound like a good way to end the day, even if it was a small victory compared to Jae-il's.
"Chocolate?"
"Always." Jae-il said, his smile widening a fraction.
"You like it?"
"I like it because you like it, Noona."
"..."
As they made their way to their father, Mia couldn't help but glance at her brother.
Her cheeks were rosy as she wrinkled her nose, her lips about to form a petulant pout, but then she remembered what he said and unpouted. "You know, Jae-il, you're not as cool as everyone says."
Jae-il blinked, looking down at his mud-splattered jersey and grass-stained shorts. He raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't want to be cool in those terms, Mia Noona. It's much better to be competent and comfortable than to sacrifice practicality for appearance."
Su Ah nodded appreciatively, while Mia merely gaped at her little brother, then huffed a laugh. "See, that's what I mean! Only an old man in a child's body would say something like that."
Jae-il's smile was cryptic. "No, Mia Noona. Only an intelligent person would say that. Then again, nobody expects something like that from you." He said, before quickening his pace to catch up to their parents.
"Hey!" Mia waved a fist in the air, as threatening as a kitten with a toy mouse. "Get back here, you little...!" She huffed, but a small smile played on her lips as she jogged to keep up. "Don't forget that I can still outrun you!"
Unfortunately for Mia, it turns out that she couldn't outrun him.Last edited: Dec 2
Chapter 7: The Prodigy and His Noona
The months following that first, lopsided friendly match bled together in a steady rhythm of practice and quiet study.
Spring unfurled into the hazy, humid warmth of early summer in Seoul. My routine remained largely unchanged: relentless drills under the strengthening sun, the familiar weight of textbooks in the evenings, and the occasional, obligatory playtime with Su Ah, whose analytical curiosity about my skills seemed to grow, and Mia, whose interactions with me felt increasingly… unpredictable.
My parents, particularly Yeong Gu, were ecstatic. He'd leveraged his connections, that glorious man.
Eventually, I had a date.
The FC Seoul Youth Academy tryouts were scheduled for late July. The gateway to serious football in this country, the first real step back onto a path I knew intimately, was finally within sight.
It felt weird retracing my steps, climbing a mountain I had already seen the summit of.
However, this time my all time goal would be considerably harder. Winning a World Cup with Brazil was one thing—doing it with South Korea?
Yeah, there was a lot of work to do.
One particularly sweltering afternoon, after drilling solo for an hour on the patch of lawn behind our house, I finally decided to call it quits and headed inside. My shirt was plastered on my sweaty back, and my muscles sang with fatigue; I'd been at it quite intensively these days.
Nothing too extreme since my body was still developing, but at least I was making damn sure it was developing well.
Mia was on the living room floor, magazine open but forgotten in her lap. Her head was propped on her hand, her gaze distant, fixed on the shifting patterns of light filtering through the blinds.
The hum of the A/C was all that could be heard.
I walked past her and towards the fridge. My hands were already reaching for a cold bottle of water when I heard the sound of her shifting position.
"Done pretending you're Elepé for the day?" She asked, not looking up immediately. Her tone held the usual teasing edge, but lacked some of its usual bite. Quite unusual, to be honest.
'Elepé?' Oh right, him. This world's 'supposedly' best football player in history.
I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. "Elepé played in a different era, Noona. The game has evolved." I took a long drink, observing her. She finally looked up, and her gaze lingered a moment too long, sweeping over me from my sweaty hair down to my grass-stained shorts. It wasn't hostile, not exactly, but it felt… analytical.
"Right." She said slowly, tapping a perfectly manicured nail on the magazine cover. "Always the expert. So, Mr. Evolved Footballer, are you actually going to make it into that fancy academy thing dad keeps bragging about?"
"That's the objective." I replied, toweling off my face to reveal a slight smile. "Confidence is high."
"Confidence is always high with you." Mia retorted, but again, the sharpness felt blunted.
"Is it so wrong to be confident in one's abilities?" I asked, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, watching her carefully. Her behavior had been odd lately; not the usual teasing or competitive jabs, but something more contemplative.
Was that typical sisterly behavior? Was she still jealous about my success?
She shrugged, looking away again. "No, it's just weird. Like, you have this… aura. You're seven. Shouldn't you be playing with toy cars and making mud pies or something?"
"Are mud pies a common childhood activity?" I asked, genuinely curious.
She rolled her eyes, exasperation breaking through the thoughtful mask. "That's not the point, Jae-il. The point is, you're weird."
"Ah." I nodded, understanding. "Weird in a good way or a bad way?"
"There's a good way?" She snorted, but the corners of her lips betrayed a smile.
"I'd like to think so." I said, taking another sip. "Otherwise, why would you be talking to me right now?"
"Maybe I'm trying to figure you out." She suggested, her tone almost conspiratorial.
"Am I really that complex, Noona?"
She paused, her gaze locking with mine. "You're a seven-year-old boy who plays football like a pro, reads textbooks for fun, and keeps a training schedule stricter than our dad's work calendar." She leaned back on her hands, the magazine sliding off her lap. "Yeah, I'd say you're pretty complex, Jae-il."
I smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through me. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You would." Mia said, shaking her head with a sigh that was more theatrical than weary.
"What's gotten into you lately, Noona?" I asked, crossing my arms over the counter, the now empty bottle dangling from one hand. "You've been… quieter, less boisterous. Less Mia."
She raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "Less Mia?"
"You know." I gestured broadly. "Not as many complaints about my 'showboating' or the lack of attention I'm giving you." I tilted my head, a small playful smirk playing on my lips. "It's almost like you might… miss me."
Her face contorted into a myriad of emotions, each vying for dominance: indignation, embarrassment, denial. But she didn't shout or storm away. Instead, she took a steadying breath, her eyes narrowing. "Don't be ridiculous. I just… want to know what makes you tick, that's all. You're my little brother, after all. It's my job to figure you out before anyone else does."
"Ah." I nodded. "So it's a big sisterly concern then?"
"Exactly." She agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Purely sisterly. And out of familial curiosity."
"Of course." I said, straightening up from the counter. "Then, in the spirit of fostering better sibling relations, why don't you join me for a session tomorrow? You might develop an affection for football yet. And, it might give you some more insight into what makes me… tick." I mimicked her earlier gesture.
She stared at me, her face a battle between the immediate denial I could see brewing and a curiosity that was clearly getting the better of her. After a beat, she sighed. "Fine. But don't expect me to run around chasing a ball in the sun all day. I'll watch. Maybe offer some… constructive criticism."
I laughed. "I would expect nothing less from you, Noona."
Mia watched me leave.
xXx
Mia's POV:
Summer—sweltering heat notwithstanding—had brought with it a strange kind of calm. The house was quieter, the days lazier, and her parents were less frantic about schedules and schoolwork.
She found herself with more time on her hands than she'd ever had before, and her thoughts often drifted to her younger brother.
Jae-il was... different. Always had been. Not in a creepy or scary way, just in a way that made her look twice.
Where she had always been about the drama, the attention, the social politics of school and home, he seemed to navigate a different world entirely. He was quiet, studious, and incredibly focused. Su Ah was quite like that as well, but that little twerp at least behaved her age.
She didn't think it was the football. Sure, he was good—better than good—but it wasn't the sport that made him… him. It was something else, something deeper. Maybe it was in the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, and even the way he looked at her sometimes.
It was unnerving. It was interesting.
And it bothered her.
'Don't think too much about it.'
For her mental sanity, Mia had tried to follow that advice, to dismiss the nagging questions that Jae-il seemed to conjure up in her. But it was like trying to ignore a puzzle with a missing piece; her mind kept coming back to it, prodding at it, trying to make sense of it.
And it didn't help that Jae-il was everywhere she turned—on the lawn in front of her, in the family room reading, or just being that quiet, observant presence at the dinner table.
So, she'd decided to do something about it. To figure him out, understand what made him so different, and why it was so important to her. And the best way to do that? Well, she'd just have to spend more time with him, wouldn't she?
That's how she found herself outside the next afternoon, watching as Jae-il went through his warm-up routine.
The sun was already high, baking the grass and turning the air into a warm, sticky soup. She hadn't even been out there for ten minutes, yet her skin was already glistening with sweat. How he managed to run around in this heat for so long was beyond her.
He'd offered her a ball to join him, but she'd declined. "Just here to observe, remember?" She'd said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and finding a shaded spot under a tree. "Don't let me interrupt your... training."
Jae-il tilted his head, smiling slightly. "That won't do, Noona. What's the point of you being here if you're not participating?"
She lifted an eyebrow, leaning back against the rough bark of the tree. "Participating in what? Your quest to melt into a puddle in the middle of our lawn?"
He laughed, the sound light and genuine. It was a rare sound from Jae-il, usually so stoic and serious. She found herself smiling in response, a reflex she couldn't quite help. "No, no, nothing that drastic. But you did say you wanted to understand me better, right? How will you do that sitting under a tree?"
Mia huffed, crossing her arms and looking at him skeptically. "And what, exactly, do you have in mind?"
Jae-il's eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief that made Mia both curious and a bit wary. He gestured towards the open field in front of them. "How about a challenge? Let's see if you can take the ball from me."
Her eyes widened a fraction. "What? You want me to... play with you?"
He nodded. "It'll be fun. And you might even learn a thing or two."
She scoffed, but her lips were already curving into a grin. "Alright, football prodigy, you're on. But remember, I'm not one of those kids you humiliated the other day. I won't go down so easily." She pushed off the tree and started towards him, a new kind of energy in her stride.
'Hmph! You brat, I'll show you!'
Mia turned her nose up, her smile as haughty as she could manage.
Jae-il's smile widened as he watched her approach, the ball nestled comfortably at his feet. "We'll see about that, Noona. Ready?"
"Bring it." She replied, her stance shifting as she prepared to defend.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face, but she brushed it away, her focus entirely on Jae-il and the ball he was effortlessly maneuvering.
Then she charged, intending to sweep the ball away with a quick, decisive move.
But Jae-il was quicker, his body and the ball moving as if they were one. The ball darted left, and by the time she adjusted, he was already past her. She turned, a curse on her lips as she lunged for the ball again. But again, he was too fast, too agile, and he slipped away, leaving her grasping at thin air.
After a few more failed attempts, she stood there, panting, her hands on her knees, and a look of utter disbelief on her face. "What... how are you... this isn't fair!"
Jae-il had barely broken a sweat. "Not fair? Thought you were better than those kids I humiliated." He teased, gently tapping the ball with his foot.
She straightened up, her chest still heaving slightly. "You've had your fun. Now give me that stupid ball." She demanded, pointing at the sphere still firmly under his control.
"Come and get it." He replied, his voice carrying a note of challenge.
Mia's eyes narrowed.
Sweat poured down her face, stinging her eyes and soaking her clothes, but she kept on, fueled by an inner fire that refused to be extinguished, either by the scorching sun or by Jae-il's infuriating skill with that thing.
She had long foregone grace and dignity and simply threw herself at the ball with all the fervor of an enraged bull.
But each time, she was left in the dirt, or on her back, or flat on her face, the ball always just out of reach.
At one point, she thought she had him. She saw an opening, a sliver of a chance, and lunged. Her hand brushed the smooth surface of the ball, her fingertips just touching it. Victory flashed in her eyes.
Then, in a movement so swift and fluid it seemed almost impossible, Jae-il spun away. The ball, that infernal, traitorous ball, stayed with him.
'How the heck does he do that?!'
Exhausted, she finally flopped down onto the grass, her hair spread out like a dark halo. "You're impossible." She huffed, her breaths coming in deep, ragged gasps. "You're not human."
Jae-il approached her, his shadow falling over her prone figure. "Just a little bit of practice, Noona. You're not so bad yourself."
She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing in a glare that had no real bite.
He smiled. It was softer than his usual smirk, almost... comforting. "It's your turn now, I'll try to get it from you."
The ball, that had always stayed glued to his feet, now rolled up to her. She looked at it, then back up at him. "You'll let me have the ball?"
He nodded. "It's only fair. See if you can keep it from me."
She snatched up the ball, cradling it protectively under her dominant foot as she stood. "Alright, Jae-il, let's see what you've got."
He came at her, and instinctively, she tried to move the ball away. Unexpectedly, she seemed to have succeeded, the ball staying with her as she moved around. A small smile of triumph started to curl the corners of her lips. In fact, as she moved around the small patch of grass, Jae-il seemed to have trouble getting near the ball.
"Ha!" She exclaimed, her confidence growing. "Not so easy when you're on the other end, is it?"
He merely smiled at her. "You're really good, Mia Noona."
It was only when their mom came out to call them in for dinner that she realized he'd been letting her have her way the entire time. After all, there were many times where she stumbled and lost control of the ball, even without him doing anything.
Not once did he try to take the ball seriously, his moves always gentle and predictable. She wasn't sure if she should be furious or grateful.
But, as she sat there, watching him extend a hand to help her up, she couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions swirling within her.
'What's the point of being jealous? He's my brother...'
She accepted his hand.
His smile turned a tad softer.
Her breath caught in her throat.
'Why is he so…'
And then, he pulled her to her feet with a surprising strength that belied his small stature.
"Come on." He said, letting go of her hand. "Let's go back."
Mia looked at him for a long moment and followed after him.
She was so dirty, yet this afternoon was the most fun she had in a while. Like ReplyReport Reactions:PassingBy, Vodoo_Woodpecker, Demon_queen and 158 othersNneeilSep 6, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 8: The Next Level View contentNneeilKnow what you're doing yet?Sep 6, 2025Add bookmark#12Chapter 8: The Next Level
The day of the tryouts for FC Seoul's Youth Academy arrived, the culmination of weeks, no, a literal lifetime of preparation. My father, Yeong Gu, drove me to the training ground. He was a bundle of nervous energy, constantly tapping the steering wheel or adjusting his position in the seat.
"I hope you remembered your cleats. You have them, right?" He asked for the fourth time that morning.
"Yes, dad." I said patiently.
"What about the registration forms? Did we sign them?"
I glanced at the papers on the dashboard, all neatly filled out and bearing our signatures. "Right there. All ready to go."
"Okay." He let out a breath, his fingers tapping an unending rhythm. "You're my son, you'll be fine. Just... remember the strategies we went over and you'll ace it."
"I'll do my best." I said with a smile of my own, trying to calm his jittering nerves.
Next to him, in the passenger seat, Eun Ha sat serenely. She looked back at me with a warm, encouraging smile, her calm in stark contrast to Yeong Gu's palpable anxiety. She had come more to manage him than me.
"Just remember what your father said, and it'll be fine. They would be foolish not to take you."
Once again, I found myself nodding repetitively. It was an understandable concern slash anticipation they had, after all, FC Seoul wasn't just a club—it was the pinnacle for youth players in South Korea, offering a clear, established path to the K-League.
This was a huge opportunity, and one that, if successful, would set my path back towards professional football, this time in this new life.
I glanced out the window. 'Time sure does fly by though...'
A slight nudge on my side brought my attention back to the car. Mia, sitting beside me, gave me a conspiratorial wink and a mischievous smile. "Just remember, you mess this up, and I get to say 'I told you so' for the next hundred years." She whispered, her tone teasing but not malicious.
After that afternoon together, this pesky little kid warmed up to me considerably. She wasn't suddenly affectionate, but it felt like some barrier between us had fallen.
"Your confidence in me is inspiring." I replied, a chuckle escaping me. "Don't worry, your chance to gloat isn't here yet."
She grinned. "We'll see." Her hand sneakily brushed mine. "We'll see..."
Su Ah, ever the observer, gave me a quiet nod across the seat.
I nodded in return. She then reached over to squeeze my hand briefly.
Mia subtly interfered by shifting her weight so that our hands couldn't properly meet.
Su Ah glared, before her mother's calming voice cut the tension short. "Girls… please…"
'An interesting rivalry, isn't it?' I thought to myself, a bemused smile on my face.
Eventually, the massive complex of the FC Seoul Youth Academy loomed before us, a stark contrast to the familiar patch of grass behind our house or the modest grounds of Suryong Private School. Gleaming modern buildings, perfectly manicured pitches stretching as far as the eye could see. It screamed professionalism.
This was the big league, even for seven-year-olds.
Dad's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "Alright, son. This is it. Remember, deep breaths. Play your game. And… have fun?" The last part sounded more like a question, as if fun was a luxury he wasn't sure was permitted here.
It was unusual to see him like that, not knowing what to say or do. He was typically a pillar of stoic authority in the family.
His words of caution about my supposed hubris, echoed back in my head.
Eun Ha laid a calming hand on Yeong Gu's arm. "Dear, it's going to be okay." She assured him, her voice gentle. "Our Jae-il has got this."
Yeong Gu exhaled, a slow, controlled breath. He glanced back at me through the rearview mirror. "Good luck." He managed, his voice tight. "Make us proud, Jae-il."
"We know you'll do well." Eun Ha added with a smile, reaching back to gently squeeze my hand.
Mia leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered. "Show them your magic, little bro." Her usual tease held an unusual sincerity, almost a vote of confidence in disguise. Well, would you look at her? "If there's anything in the world you can do without messing it up, it's this."
Su Ah's usual mask of indifference held a hint of dignity and anticipation as well. "Just don't trip over the ball on the field."
After a quick series of encouraging words from everyone in the car, we arrived in front of one of the smaller, less impressive buildings, where a group of children was gathered with their parents and guardians. From their nervous pacing, anxious fidgeting with soccer balls and cleats, and frequent, almost longing glances towards the main pitch, it was obvious who these kids were—prospective recruits.
This was a different kind of intensity, and I was genuinely fascinated by it.
From here, I saw everything.
There were no more than a dozen or so kids. A few stood out due to their size or demeanor. But overall, they were what you could expect from an academy of that caliber. Decent, yes, but nothing extraordinary. Some, however, did carry a unique flair in their movement, the hint of latent talent.
I'd recognize that anywhere.
The car door clicked open, and I stepped out of the cool comfort into the humid, sticky heat.
"Here we are, son! Main entrance for U-8 check-in should be over there." Yeong Gu announced, pointing. "Are you all set?"
"I think so." I responded, stepping out of the car.
He nodded briskly, the nerves from earlier replaced by a more familiar determination.
As we approached the check-in tables, the sheer number of hopefuls became even more apparent. I'd estimated a dozen from the car, but now, closer, it was clear there were at least fifty, maybe sixty kids my age. All vying for the few spots the academy offered. A low murmur of anxiousness hung in the air like an omnipresent cloud.
"Cha Jae-il?" A woman with a clipboard and a no-nonsense expression called out.
"Here." I replied, stepping forward. Dad hovered just behind me, craning his neck.
She ticked my name off a long list and handed me a bright orange bib with the number '23' printed on it. "Pin this on clearly, front and back. Warm-up will be on Pitch 3. Coaches will direct you. Parents, please remain in the designated viewing areas." Her tone was brisk, efficient, clearly used to managing hordes of excited children and their even more excited parents. "Next." She barked, her gaze shifting to the next hopeful, already reaching for another number.
I pinned the number 23 to my chest. The fabric felt crisp and new. "So... just go on over to pitch three and do as they say?" I said to Dad, more rhetorical than questioning, as I knew what I needed to do.
He patted my head. "Yes, Jae-il. Show them what you've got. Remember: stay cool and play smart."
Eun Ha stepped in smoothly, pressing a water bottle and a neatly wrapped snack box into my hands. "Eat and drink, even if you're not hungry. It's going to be a long, tough day." She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on my forehead.
'Long day? This is just the beginning.'
From the sidelines, Mia waved, an uncharacteristically sweet smile on her face, though I swore I could see the hint of a smirk playing in her eyes. "Go kick their butts! Make those other kids wish they'd stayed home and played video games!" She said, causing Yeong Gu to harrumph.
Su Ah remained impassive as ever, merely giving a tiny nod to show she was listening and wished me well.
I gave them all a reassuring nod, a small smile playing on my lips. Turning, I headed towards Pitch 3.
The designated area was already teeming with other bib-wearing kids.
Coaches in official FC Seoul tracksuits were starting to corral them, their voices sharp and authoritative.
I took a deep breath, the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint tang of liniment filling my lungs. It smelled like opportunity. It smelled like home.
One of the coaches, a man with a weathered face and eyes that seemed to miss nothing—I'd later learn he was Coach Park, one of the head assessors for this age group—blew a sharp blast on his whistle.
"Alright, U-8s, listen up!" His voice boomed across the pitch. "Welcome to the FC Seoul Youth Academy tryouts. Today, we're looking for talent, for hard work, and for passion. We'll start with some basic drills, then move into small-sided games. Give it your all, listen to instructions, and show us what you've got!"
He pointed towards a set of colorful cones at one end of the pitch. "Get lined up for some warm-up exercises!"
We started the warm-up, stretching, and agility exercises. Some of the children, in their excitement or anxiety, rushed their movements, causing one of the coaches to pause and emphasize the importance of proper form to prevent injuries. He shot a quick glance my way as if acknowledging that I alone had followed their guidance correctly. 'Maybe that's a good sign.'
A kid next to me, visibly struggling with the exercises and clearly out of breath from rushing the last few movements, received no such acknowledgement.
'I doubt we'll be sharing a locker room.'
I wasn't worried about competition here.
'Competition is overrated. Quality, though. Quality makes a champion.'
After a brief pause for a well-supervised hydration break, we moved on to skill drills. Passes, traps, turns, feints. Some were quite sloppy, some showed promise.
Coach Park, along with the others, watched us with an eagle-eyed focus. They noted every fumble, every hesitation. But what they seemed to value the most wasn't perfection—because perfection at seven wasn't really possible.
However, if I wanted to speedrun this shit, perfection would come sooner than anyone could expect.
I smiled; it was finally my turn.
'Jair Campinho is back, bitches.' Like ReplyReport Reactions:PassingBy, Demon_queen, SpaceWolfotheWilds and 146 othersNneeilSep 6, 2025Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 9: The Next Level II View contentNneeilKnow what you're doing yet?Sep 6, 2025Add bookmark#13Chapter 9: The Next Level II
I took a breath, feeling the ball at my feet, not because of the pressure but simply for the pure love of it.
I passed. The ball found my foot again. I controlled, shifted my weight, and set it back in motion with a precision that belied my supposedly seven years of experience. Again, the process repeated. With each touch, I was not only displaying my skill, but also my ability to learn quickly and effectively.
My passes were sharp, my touches sweet, soft, and instictive. My body, even this small, untrained physique, moved with the weight of decades of experience as a world class footballer. Things like that simply couldn't be taken off the equation that was me, Cha Jae-il.
When my turn was over, I had played my game and the gazes on me weren't those of coaches simply evaluating, but rather, of those who had witnessed something exceptional.
Coach Park's gaze often flickered back to me, and I could almost see the gears turning in his mind.
Small-sided games were the last piece of the tryout puzzle.
Two mini-pitches with five-a-side teams. A swarm of bib-clad kids was ready, adrenaline pumping. The sheer energy in the air was palpable.
I felt calm amidst the chaos.
When they announced the teams and positions, a small spark of satisfaction lit up within me at the sight of 'Cha Jae-il' being assigned as a center-forward on one of the teams. This felt fitting. Symbolic. I certainly wasn't about to play as a goalkeeper.
I was joined by a few others—some I could already tell wouldn't make the cut, while one boy named Sung Hyunwoo, bore a special attention.
'Now that kid… has some talent.'
A quick warm-up, a stern set of instructions, and the game was on.
The starting whistle seemed to break a spell; the organized chaos that we were moments ago became a blur of motion on the tiny field.
The game started off predictably. Some of my teammates were more enthusiastic than skilled. They lunged at the ball as if it was a prize to be won rather than playing the actual damn game. Hogging off all the glory wasn't about to automatically get you in.
Sung Hyunwoo must've been trained well because he looked different from everyone else out there on the pitch.
A wayward pass came in my direction, scuffed, not the pretty missiles I could unleash with this tiny footsies, but eh, it was an opportunity.
My eyes scanned the pitch. Instinctively, I could see where I needed to be, where I needed to move to exploit the space.
I kissed the wobbly pass with my instep, and re-adjusted.
In that instant, everything around seemed to slow down. The shouts, the thumping of the footfalls, even the whistle of the coaches—all receded. A tide about to turn into a tsunami.
I dribbled, the ball rolling a foot ahead of me. A defender approached, his posture low and defensive, but I knew, I remembered, that trick to weave past. A subtle touch on the ball, a quick switch of directions, and I was past him, watching him flounder, caught in his own misplaced momentum.
Another approached. I feinted to the left, then spun away to the right. His move was far too telegraphed.
The straight path ahead was clear. And then there it was: the opening, a narrow, tantalizing passage through the mass of legs.
A well-placed pass. The very same missile I was talking about earlier.
I could see Sung Hyunwoo making a move. I saw his movement patterns and anticipated his actions.
The pass was swift, sliding through the sea of legs as if on invisible rails.
And there it was.
The moment the ball met his foot was pure perfection. His movement, the shift in weight, the decisive tap that redirected the ball into the netting at the back of the tiny goal.
We'd done it, our first goal in this mock-game of the trials, was Sung Hyunwoo.
He was ecstatic, running with that intense exuberance of someone who had just scored a goal. He ran up to me and hugged me. "Thank you! Well done!" Then went to celebrate with another teammate.
I was slightly surprised by the sudden hug. A sudden burst of joy and a quick celebration would have sufficed in other circumstances. But this boy had a special appreciation for teamwork. Regardless, I didn't know whether I should've chimed in on the merriment or simply got back into position.
Being too standoffish could give the wrong impression. But celebrating this kind of goal in this kind of game made me cringe inwardly. Yeah, not gonna do that.
The game continued from there, with the kickoff by the other team.
Sung Hyunwoo, in particular, was proving to be quite the little prodigy—well, for his age. I've seen many talents die out before their peak, so I was reluctant to call him anything but a good prospect for a football player.
He moved instinctively to cover a gap on our right flank, managing to win the ball back and then pass to me, a hopeful smile on his face. I obliged him. It was easy for me to weave past the remaining two defenders. I was fast on my legs, faster than any seven-year-olds had any right to be.
A feint to the left, a sprint to accelerate in the vacuum left by clumsy defenders. I took two more touches, then casually poked the ball between the keeper's legs and into the goal.
xXx
Coach Park's POV:
From the sidelines, Coach Park observed the spectacle in motion before him with an analytical intensity, his gaze catching each subtle detail and perfection of Cha Jae-il's performance. That child was special, that was clear.
His movements were beyond those expected at his tender age.
The boy, as soon as the game commenced, transformed.
'This is absurd.' Coach Park mused internally. He'd seen exceptional talent before; kids with remarkable abilities, often products of intensive, expensive training regimes.
But this? This was different.
It wasn't that the kid was just skillful; it was the way he played.
Each movement exuded an unerring calm and an otherworldly foresight. He read the flow of the game like a veteran, anticipating movements and spaces that were, frankly, unthinkable at this level.
And yet, look at him go, executing beautiful maneuvers with a casual, playful mastery.
It wasn't just his ability, though, that was arresting. It was the effect he had on his team.
Cha Jae-il not only saw and exploited opportunities, he created them from nothing. The opposing team could have the best game plan in the whole fucking world, and Jae-il would easily tear it apart.
His presence seemed to galvanize everyone in the team.
Sung Hyunwoo was an example. A budding talent, no doubt. Yet under Cha's influence, the boy flourished. He played more instinctively, with more flair, almost feeding off the confidence radiated by his younger teammate. He had even tried to imitate some of the skills showed by the youngest player of the team.
Together, the duo formed a striking force. The synergy between their movements was something beyond their years, and their team's structure morphed, adapted, and thrived.
'It's almost as if...' He shook his head in disbelief, watching as Cha slipped through two defenders with an ease that defied logic.
The assistants next to Coach Park buzzed, their pens scribbling frantically. One, especially taken with Cha's display, couldn't resist voicing the thought. "He's not real, right?" The tone wasn't quite joking. "He's just… on a whole other level."
Another nodded vigorously. "That kid's going to make some waves. Maybe we should start calling him the Little Genius, or the Prodigy."
Park suppressed a smile. These kinds of talents were rare gems, found only once or twice in a coach's lifetime. The last time he had felt a thrill like this, had been nearly twenty years ago with none other than Park Joo-Ho.
A ripple in the otherwise placid pond of predictable mediocrity. A name to be etched into the annals. After all, South Korea didn't usually produce strikers of the highest tier, and that meant an exceptional talent in that area could change the landscape.
He looked on. 'Maybe it's too soon. Maybe it's just a phase. But if this is real...'
"They scored again." One of the assistants pointed, the tone hushed.
"Unbelievable. They have 7 points already. They scored six times in less than ten minutes and the other team has yet to score at all!"
The young center-forward was being hugged by Sung Hyunwoo, the protagonist of a recent goal. The entirety of the team converged around those two, forming a jumbled mass of excitement. There was an unmistakable glow of pride on their little faces.
But Cha Jae-il himself seemed to take a step back, a flicker of unease crossing his features as if he didn't particularly relish all that contact or the excessive celebration of their recent achievement.
He looked more akin to a man surrounded by a crowd of adoring but overly enthusiastic children. One assistant couldn't help but crack up at the scene.
The rest of the game continued in a similar vein, with goals being one-sidedly scored by the same team, over and over and over—to the point that the game had to be called off before it reached the 20 minutes limit because there was nothing left for anyone to do.
An awkward silence fell over the viewers on the stands.
Some of the kids from the defeated team began to burst in tears or were clearly heartbroken.
The final result was too demoralizing for anyone to look at.
11 - 0
Then complaints began to pour from the parents at the sidelines.
"It was clearly not fair to put all the good kids in the same team. This doesn't represent their talent. Please reconsider!"
"That team is too strong!"
"Why is there one kid in the wrong age bracket? That boy can't be an U-8! Are you trying to cheat the tryouts, Mister?!"
"This is outrageous! What kind of trial is this?"
A cacophony of grievances. Parents venting, other children on the brink of tears or perhaps mid-eruption. Some were just standing there, stunned.
"I'm afraid the teams are randomly organized to simulate an even match." Coach Park explained calmly.
"You think that was even? How could you tell?" A particularly vehement father exclaimed.
"The point of these matches is not about victory. This is an evaluation for their skills." Coach Park continued, his voice gruff.
"How is this measuring up their skills when you can't see their skills in the first place?! My son couldn't play at all! They couldn't show their skills like this!" Another righteously furious dad chimed in.
"If they couldn't, then doesn't that already speak up for itself? We've seen what we needed to." Park's tone was definitive and didn't leave room for further argument.
With that, he turned around and walked off. As if he had any intention of wasting his time on angry, delusional parents.
The assistants stepped in to placate the remaining parents.
Coach Park took one last look at Number 23, then lowered his cap, shading his eyes. 'Kid's gonna go all the way if he stays healthy and hungry for success…'
Yes. Coach Park was certain.
He wanted this Cha Jae-il in his program.Last edited: Dec 21, 2025 Like ReplyReport Reactions:PassingBy, Vodoo_Woodpecker, Demon_que