It was my first time watching a match played by second-years.
Contrary to my expectation that it would be boring.
"Go for it!"
"Cut it off!"
"Pass!"
The game's tempo was incredibly fast.
Flash! Smack!
Throwing their bodies to collide was just the basics.
Thud! Roll-roll.
Even if players were sent sprawling across the field, no one batted an eye.
A brutally aggressive and dynamic sport.
Could there be any better sport to unleash masculinity?
Among the players, one stood out, as expected—Carl Bernstein.
Once he started running, no one could stop him.
Swish—Swoosh—Snap!
'Faster than Jack, it seems…'
Especially during counterattacks, when the defensive line wasn't properly set up, it was almost impossible to stop him.
Even when the defense line was intact, the situation didn't improve much.
First off.
Whoosh!
Feigning a charge to the left.
Swoop.
He threw a fake with his upper body.
Whoosh!
And with a swift direction change—
"Argh!"
The defender, caught off guard, fell right on his behind.
In soccer terms, he was like a dribbler who had both explosiveness and agility.
"Block him!"
"Cut off his escape routes!"
When Carl scored again, the opposing team began to strategize.
After all, to pull off flashy moves, you need space.
Maybe that's why.
Thud, thud!
The defenders rushed in, surrounding Carl in no time.
They were determined not to give him any room to move.
However.
"...."
Carl wasn't fazed in the slightest.
With a deadly calm expression, as if this level of defense was nothing new.
Soon enough, Carl pretended he was going to break through.
Bang!
Faked pushing past the defenders.
Whoosh.
In reality, he sent a sharp pass to the opposite side.
Whooosh!
The ball seemed to soar higher than expected, but—
Flash!
A towering figure, at least a head taller than anyone else, snagged the ball with ease.
So this was Ralph, the vice-captain everyone talked about…
'He's definitely big.'
I thought he would charge forward without hesitation.
But then, to my surprise—
Instead of forcing his way through, the big guy simply—
Swoosh.
Passed the ball back to Carl.
In soccer terms, it was like a one-two pass.
Receiving the ball, Carl dashed forward with ferocity.
"Here I go!"
Effortlessly leaping over a defender's tackle as if it were a vaulting horse—
Tap!
He successfully scored, just like that.
It was a practice game.
Given the inherent skill gap and the concern of injuries, there might have been a certain level of leniency whenever Carl had the ball.
But even taking all that into consideration—
'Damn, he's good.'
A clash to see who possesses the stronger body.
And at the same time, a relentless battle of wits playing out behind the scenes!
Normally, one would think—
'Can a first-year even compete against those monsters?'
Worrying should've been my first reaction.
But right now, there was only one thought dominating my mind.
'I want to stop him.'
I wanted to use the tackling techniques Devon had taught me to break his stride.
No matter how massive they are, they can't compare to Devon.
I wanted to lock shoulders with that vice-captain, test my strength against that bulky frame!
My heart thudded with excitement, and a big grin crept across my face.
"Second-years, attention!"
A voice rang out behind me.
Startled, I turned my head, only to find a towering shadow looming over me.
'Why is Coach Devon here?'
Once again, he bellowed across the field.
"Who's the second-year captain?"
"That's me."
"The first-year rep here has a proposal for you."
What?
Confused, I looked at Devon, and he gave me a sly wink.
Then, leaning in slightly, he whispered to me.
"You said you wanted a rep selection match, didn't you?"
Ah.
"What's wrong? Getting cold feet now?"
"Of course not."
"Then?"
"It's just… sudden."
"Life is always unpredictable."
With a chuckle, he added, "Take the chance while it's here."
And sure enough, Carl was walking toward me with steady steps.
His silhouette, damp with sweat, became clearer as he approached.
From afar, he seemed slender, but up close, he was surprisingly solid.
Especially his lower body—it was extraordinary.
Sweeping his blonde hair back, Carl asked me,
"You wanted to say something?"
"The national tournament."
"…?"
"How about we pit the first and second-years against each other, and the winning team gets to represent us?"
"Surely you're talking about rugby?"
Nod, nod.
Carl's gaze shifted to Devon, as if to ask, Did you know about this too?
"Do as you like."
With Devon's approval, Carl's expression turned peculiar.
It was like watching someone put on a mask over another mask.
However, he quickly adjusted his demeanor and spoke.
"This is unexpected."
"...."
"I'm guessing there's some misunderstanding here."
"A misunderstanding?"
"If this is about harboring a grudge because the rugby team offended you somehow…"
He must be referring to the day Jack fought against seven of them at once.
I smirked.
"Why would I hold a grudge?"
"What?"
"They're the ones who got beaten up. Why would I have any reason to hold a grudge?"
A clear provocation.
I was throwing out bait so he couldn't reject my proposal.
But the reaction didn't come from where I expected.
"Wow!"
Devon looked thoroughly pleased, as if he'd set the stage perfectly.
In contrast—
"...."
Carl reverted to his usual mask-like expression.
After taking his time, Carl finally responded.
"I appreciate the proposal, but it's not something I can decide on my own."
Acting democratic, are we?
"Discuss it with your team and let me know your answer."
"How soon do you need to hear back?"
"The sooner, the better."
At my reply, Carl nodded silently.
He probably thought he had concealed his emotions entirely.
But I didn't miss the flicker of cunning, snake-like light in his eyes.
'How ruthless.'
Not that it mattered to me.
"I'll take my leave now."
After bowing to Devon, I casually walked back toward the classroom.
***
30 minutes later, the second-years' student council room.
Vice-captain Ralph looked absolutely triumphant.
Carl had essentially roared at him to push for a friendly match between the first and second-years.
And now, it was actually happening.
Grinning from ear to ear, Ralph declared,
"The captain was so insistent about it! I couldn't just sit back, you know? So I thought, 'Screw it, let's settle this today!' I went straight to the coach and raised hell—"
"Shut up. You're giving me a headache."
"Huh?"
"Can't you see I'm thinking?"
"Oh, sorry."
Carl's expression was complicated.
Sure, he had gotten exactly what he wanted—a rugby match between the first and second-years was now set.
But even so…
The "friendly match" had turned into a "selection match."
And to top it off, Park Ji-hoon had come forward on his own—what could he be plotting?
Of course, if it were a rugby match, the outcome was already as good as decided.
"What, just because you've succeeded in a few businesses, you think you'll be good at rugby too? Do you own the whole world now, huh?"
A match they absolutely couldn't lose, even if the sky split in two.
At least, that's how Carl felt.
But Park Ji-hoon's inscrutable expression left him feeling unsettled.
It was like a thorn stuck in his throat, constantly bothering him.
Even though he wanted to accept the challenge right away, there was no harm in being cautious.
Carl turned to Ralph.
"Find out what's driving him."
"..."
"Why aren't you answering?"
"Huh? Oh, you told me to keep my mouth shut earlier, so…"
Idiot.
Carl shook his head in disbelief, as if words failed him.
***
After school.
Today's training took place in the weight room.
Maybe Devon was in a hurry to finish up after work, because he skipped any pleasantries and went straight to grabbing the equipment.
"You know how to deadlift, right?"
Jack and I were already familiar with weight training.
Devon, knowing that, skipped the basic explanations.
"Let me show you a demo."
Hmm.
I must've been seeing things wrong.
Devon stacked every plate he could find onto the barbell, bringing it up to 260 kilograms.
Then, as if it was no big deal, he glanced in the mirror, rolled up his sleeves, and gripped the bar.
A moment later—
"Here we go."
That was it.
Just one simple phrase—here we go.
"...!"
And the bar was up, just like that.
Still holding the bar, Devon asked,
"How did I lift it?"
Like a brute!
Like someone not even human!
But I kept my mouth shut.
"Why aren't you answering? I pulled it up perfectly."
Would it kill him to put that thing down while talking?
Maybe he caught the look in my eyes because he added,
"Oh, right. Forgot about that."
After placing the bar back down, Devon explained.
"In rugby, you need explosive strength in an instant. So if you deadlift slowly, it's pointless. You need to go—BAM!—in one motion!"
He demonstrated again.
Maybe he was warmed up this time, because he didn't even shout.
Thunk!
"See that? Lift it in one go, but lower it slowly."
The same principle applied to other exercises.
Take, for example, a training exercise where you carry about 100 kilograms and go up and down a step.
"When you go up! Kick like this—BAM!"
Once again, the training squeezed every bit of strength out of us in a short period.
"Imagine during a match, an opponent suddenly charges at me. I'd have to spring forward instantly, right? That's when this training comes into play," Devon explained.
The entire program was clearly designed to build explosive power.
Jack and I exchanged glances.
Until now, we had only focused on lifting heavy weights—what did we know about this kind of training?
'Heh.'
I could already see the path of suffering laid out ahead of us…
Two hours later.
My prediction couldn't have been more accurate.
I was so drained that even lifting a finger felt impossible.
Jack and I were sprawled in the middle of the weight room.
Though I did wonder where Devon had gone off to…
'Does it even matter right now?'
The best I could do was rest while I had the chance.
We were silently staring at the ceiling when—
Thud, thud.
Footsteps echoed closer.
"You two, lying around again? Get up already!"
Devon's booming voice startled us.
"Ugh…"
"Argh…"
Groaning, we managed to sit up, every movement eliciting a grunt.
But Devon didn't care.
"Come over here and take this."
"Huh?"
"Take it, quickly."
I turned my head to see him holding three stacked pizza boxes.
So that's where he disappeared to—he went to get dinner.
"A box for each of you."
They were American-style pizzas, the largest size.
And for once, I felt like I could actually finish it all.
"From tomorrow, we'll eat before we come here."
"What, afraid I'll waste money on you?"
"…"
"If I were stingy about feeding you, would I even bother teaching you in the first place? Huh?"
Well, he's got a point.
Athletes might look intimidating on the outside, but once they open up, they're as soft as tofu!
Still, I appreciated the gesture.
"Thank you, but we can't do this every day."
"Don't get cocky."
"Pardon?"
"Where would a student even get money from?"
Well… I'm not exactly an ordinary student, but still…
Jack, ever the shameless one, had already thanked Devon and was halfway through his second slice.
'Might as well eat.'
For some reason, the pizza tasted even better when Devon was paying for it.
Chomp, chomp.
While I was grabbing my fourth slice, the other two had nearly finished off a whole box.
Now full, Devon pulled his arm over the back of his chair and stared out the window.
Not that I'd say this to the man who just bought us dinner, but…
It felt like a bear that had come down from the mountains, taking a quick rest.
Ahem!
That was when it happened.
"Hey, Park Ji-hoon."
"Yes, sir?"
"You could have stood your ground this morning."
"Huh?"
"What was it, the second-year student? Was it something like, 'The one who got hit, is the one talking so boldly?'"
When did I…?
—They're the ones who got beaten up. Why would I have any reason to hold a grudge?
This is the exact wording!
He must have read my expression
"Yeah, as long as it makes sense. How can I remember everything?"
"…"
"Anyway, what's with your outfit?"
"Oh, this? It's called 'Ultimate,' the one you wore too…"
"Why do you have every variation of it?"
At the teacher's sudden question,
"Cough, cough."
Jack, who was drinking cola, ended up choking for no reason.