ee Hyuk and Jinsoo's faces were a sigh to behold and immortalize; I wished someone had been recording the slaughter, or at least taken a couple of pictures. I'd have enjoyed looking back at them one day, once I was in the Premier League and the likes of them were playing in a third-rate league.

It was a bit cruel, and perhaps even petty, but I was only a child. I was allowed to be petty.

It was also a great lesson. Never underestimate your opponents, especially when you're a child. I wasn't a child, but they were.

They were red, frustrated, and furious.

Lee Hyuk, in particular, looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel, his face a mask of rage. Jinsoo, on the other hand, was seething, his fists clenched tightly, knuckles white.

The rest of the team looked just as shattered—battered bodies and bruised egos strewn across the field.

Meanwhile, the benchwarmers sat wide-eyed in stunned silence, caught somewhere between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment.

The second half never truly reached its conclusion; Coach Jeon stepped in before the final whistle, striding onto the field with a tight-lipped expression and a forced calm. “Good work.” He muttered here and there. “Well done..." He offered to the slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, but the words landed like lead.

They all knew the truth—no amount of hollow praise could soften the sting of a 17–3 scoreboard.

As for me?

I was slumped on the grass, a fresh bruise blooming on my cheek, my jersey torn at the shoulder, and my legs streaked with sweat and grass stains.

Some of the scratches on my knees were even bleeding a little, and I had a cut on my elbow. The harder I scored, the more aggressively and frequently they'd tried to foul me. But that was par the course. It was the same as the last life.

When the game is everything, it's normal to see people cheat to get ahead.

I'd seen that a thousand times over.

I exhaled, standing up and dusting myself off.

Coach Jeon was behind me.

He cleared his throat. "Jae-il." His voice was firm yet surprisingly calm. "Let's get those cuts cleaned up."

I nodded, not saying anything. I followed him towards the bench.

He sat me down and pulled out a first aid kit. He wiped my cuts with an antiseptic, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the stern look on his face.

"Jae-il." Coach Jeon spoke again as he wrapped a bandage around my knee. "You're quite something."

"Thanks, Coach." I said, not looking at him. I didn't feel like gloating. I was just tired.

"You're going to have to get used to this kind of stuff." He continued, his voice steady. "There will always be people who will try to bring you down." He taped up my elbow, his eyes focused on my wound. "When you’re the playmaker, you’re the target. That’s how it is. Opponents won’t try to foul the guy who plays it safe. They’ll go after the one who can change the match.”

I glanced at him, and he met my eyes.

"It's not easy. Especially at your age." He paused, looking up at me. "But you've got something special. Don't let anyone take that away from you."

I didn't respond immediately. I looked down at my feet, then back at him. "Thanks, Coach. I'll try not to."

He finished taping up my elbow and stood up, patting my shoulder. "Good. Now, get up. Go home, get some rest. You'll need it."

"Will do, sir."

"Oh, and Jae-il."

I turned towards him one last time.

"Good job today."

"Thank you."

I gave him a nod and walked off the field.

The sensation of being watched didn’t fade until I was a long distance away.

xXx

My debut in the U-12 team was, for the lack of a better term, explosive. A national monthly football magazine—Best Eleven—had caught wind of an eight-year-old prodigy in the U-12 league. The news had already been covered by a previous news outlet, but Best Eleven had more of an influence, so to speak. That's how my story was featured on the news.

This time, however, it didn't necessarily come with a positive spin, necessarily. Nothing over the top or harsh. Just a critical question of whether the supposedly eight-year-old prodigy was worth all the hype, and whether he truly belonged in the U-12 league. The short article ended with a call for the boy to prove his mettle, and the magazine's promise to keep an eye on him in the upcoming match against the U-12 squad of Suwon Samsung Bluewings.

Yeong Gu had promptly thrown the magazine in the trash, loudly declaring that he'd cancel the subscription until they published a more positive piece.

"Look what you did to dad." Mia said, a half-smile on her lips. She'd just come out of the bathroom after a long bath and kitchen break. "All riled up because someone criticized his precious son."

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of water. "It's not that big of a deal. You'd be surprised by how many talented people have been ignored or mistreated before they became successful." I paused. "And that's not even touching on the subject of racism, sexism, and all the other isms. Not to mention the people who never made it despite all the talent in the world."

Mia plopped down beside me on the couch, popping the straw into the bubble tea. "I know, I know. But still, you're not a nobody. You've got enough talent to get people's attention. That should count for something."

I shrugged. "I don't deal in maybes. I'm going to make sure they know who I am."

Her eyes glinted as she kicked off her loafers to curl up on the sofa, making sure her back rested against me as she took a sip of her drink. A pleased sigh escaped her lips. "What are you going to do then, little bro?"

"I'm going to win the match." I said simply.

Mia poked my cheek with the straw of her bubble tea, leaving a wet smudge on my perfectly clear and beautiful skin. I frowned as she laughed. "You're so cute when you get all aloof and cocky." She teased, shaking her drink. The bobas twirled inside. "Want some?"

I wiped the liquid off my cheek. "I'm not cute." I said, getting up and away from this Noona of mine.

"Wait! Don't gooo!" Mia whined as she dramatically stretched a hand towards my retreating form, her drink swaying in her other hand.

I wasn't in the mood to deal with a clingy, spoiled sister right now. It didn't help that Mia had been acting like a particularly obnoxious kitten.

Sometimes she'd just hang around. Sometimes she'd ask something that made me feel awkward. And sometimes she'd just sit there and stare.

It didn't seem like anyone else noticed it, or if they did, they didn't think anything of it. Maybe I was the only one who felt uncomfortable. After all, it wasn't exactly a bad thing to have a sister who seemed to be more physically affectionate than the average.

I shook my head.

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

xXx

The day of the match dawned clear and cool.

I arrived at the pitch with Coach Jeon and the rest of the team, and we were led to the locker rooms. I eyed my teammates. Ever since that first training session where I'd shown them what I was capable of, they'd been walking on eggshells around me. Some still looked at me with resentment, others with curiosity, and the benchers with respect.

Regardless, thanks to Coach Jeon and Coach Kim putting down their foot, no one was actively antagonizing me anymore. However, the tension was still palpable, and I knew it wouldn't take much for things to escalate again.

This shit actually made me miss my previous teammates. Who'd have thought?

I sat on the bench, tying my cleats. The rest of the team was doing their thing; some of them were stretching, others were having a chat, and some were sitting silently. People poured into the bleachers. More than usual. If the U-10 had a trickle of people, the U-12 had a small stream.

My parents were there as well.

Eun Ha. Yeong Gu. Mia and even Su Ah.

Mia, that pesky brat, literally bent over the railing, waving a manicured hand in my direction with a grin.

Her butter-yellow hair swayed in the wind.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled. "Good luck, little bro!"

"Ah! Mia!" Eun Ha's hand shot out, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. "You're going to fall off!"

"But Jae-il's about to play!" Mia protested, her voice a mixture of excitement and indignation.

Yeong Gu just sighed and took a seat.

I chuckled and gave them a brief wave.

My attention was soon pulled to the other side of the pitch, where the Suwon Samsung Bluewings, bedecked in their classic blue and white jerseys, were warming up. Their team, renowned for its youth academy, was one of the most successful in the K League 1—the top tier of professional football in South Korea.

The Bluewings were a force to be reckoned with.

I looked at my teammates. As much as I didn't get along with most of them, I had to admit that, at least, they were burning with determination and a longing for revenge. It was obvious, after all—all misgivings aside—that they were a step above the U-10s.

Compared to me, they were all older, taller, and bigger.

A gap that I'd bridge and overcome with speed, intelligence, and skills.

Coach Jeon gathered us around him, his face set in a grim expression. "Alright, boys. This is it." He began, his voice low and serious. "We've trained hard for this moment, and now it's time to show them what we're made of." His eyes swept over the team, and I saw some of the boys straighten up, their faces set in determination. "We're not going to let them intimidate us. We're not going to back down. We're going to go out there and play the best football of our lives. Got it?"

"Yes, coach!!" 

We all chorused.