RE: KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY (SECRET CLASS)1 — One Last Breath
There are some Brazilian terms in the story (they'll appear only in this chapter). I'll leave the translation for those terms below.
Mãe = Mom
Mamãe = Mom
Vai, meu filho = Go, my son
Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais = Special Police Operations Battalion
***
I freed my head of thoughts and let instincts take over. My lungs constricted. A puff of breath was released into the biting December air. All around me were spectators, chanting, roaring, and waving flags. My cleats stabbed into the grass, the football rolling in front of me.
A French defender launched into a slide, the studs under his boots ready to claim the ball, or break my ankles, whichever allowed his team to win. And while it'd probably cost him only a red card, it would no doubt end my career.
I breathed in, jumped over his feet, bringing the ball with me, and breathed out. The crowd burst into a deafening cheer, like a yellow-blue wave that called out my name, glorifying its eight letters into the high sky.
'Campinho!' 'Campinho!' 'Campinho!'
Behind me, players hastened to catch up, both from my and the opposite team. Except that my speed and momentum had created a chasm between us. The hot rush of adrenaline pumped me with power.
Only two left. Three, including the goalkeeper.
I was confident. I had done this before. Hours upon hours of drills, even late into the night, perfecting my touch, my craft. This was my life. Sweat. Grass. And this ball. It defined my existence, my name.
Knowing that it was a foolish endeavor to steal the ball from me in a 1v1, both defenders came at me like enraged bulls. They pressed me, pushing me to retreat or to pass it to someone else.
But I was alone, and I certainly was not intimidated.
So I did what I did best. I dribbled them.
I feinted to the left, one of the defenders copying me to lock me in place, so I immediately took to the right. It was such a seamless and fast transition that it almost tripped him to the ground.
The last defender couldn't wait anymore and made the mistake of closing in on me, entering my personal space—my domain.
I nutmegged him, brushing past his shoulder to reclaim the ball that had rolled right between his open legs, and sprinted faster. I didn't need to glance at the giant clock of the stadium. I internally knew that there was not much time left.
We were deep into the second half of the game. The score? 2 – 2.
The French goalkeeper met me halfway in the penalty spot. His gaze was locked on me, like an eagle about to plunge and devour its prey. He was crouched, arms wide open.
He suddenly plunged for the ball, hands stretched out.
I tapped the ball, passing it to my left foot, and left the goalkeeper to taste the grass.
The goalpost was empty. A beautiful sight.
The sight of a goal.
I stomped my left foot forward, and then loaded my right one. There was no need to overdo it. A gentle tap of the boot would see the ball socketed into the net.
Hmm?
I looked down, only to find that I was… still running?
A pain lanced through my heart, and I couldn't catch the gasp that tumbled out of my lips. My knees couldn't hold me up anymore, and, all of a sudden, the perfect control I had over my feet failed me.
It was not unusual to fall down when playing. Between tackles, constant body contact with defenders, and failed plays, done at a high speed, no less—it was hard even for me to stand my ground without tumbling down the ground like an uncoordinated fool.
But this
… was different.
The pain sharpened, seemingly cutting at my soul. I heaved, my breath rattling, struggling to swallow the oxygen. The ball was next to my face, and even with the blinding floodlights that bathed the stadium, I could vividly make out every detail of this monochrome leather sphere.
The chanting faded, and chaos seemed to have broken out.
What was going on?
The goalkeeper came running at me. 'Fuck… I have… to… score…'
Brazil was so close to lifting the World Cup trophy for the sixth time.
Contrary to my expectations, the French goalie didn't claim the ball to resume the game. He fell on his knees next to me, mumbling something in a mix of broken English and French. There was concern in his voice, that much I could tell.
I couldn't even see his face, the floodlights behind him eclipsed his visage, like the moon in front of the sun.
The twinges continued unbidden, sending burning, throbbing bullets of pure agony through my heart. I thrashed, curling up, hands clutching at my chest, as if to seize the pain in my palms.
I looked up, sweat pouring down my eyes.
I was surrounded by a wall of yellow and blue. A French striker touched my shoulder, not knowing what to do. He tried to lift me up, while one of my teammates pried my mouth open, reaching for the tongue or any other obstruction that prevented me from breathing correctly.
A vain attempt. The problem lay elsewhere.
A voice spoke over the others, calling for a medical team.
Then the referee got involved, and the noise from the crowd only got louder and louder.
I couldn't see their faces.
I couldn't hear their voices.
With each beat, my heart contracted, the pause between them lengthening.
One beat.
…
Two beats. I was shaken left and right, lifted up, and then carefully placed on a stretcher.
…
…
Three beats.
My arm fell over the edge of the stretcher, fingers grazing the grass as I was carried inside an ambulance van. Darkness crept into the corners of my vision. The gradual loss of it was frightening. It was not a sudden plunge into the darkness, instead, it was as if I was being eased inside it.
The pain faded, ringing in my nerves like a distant echo.
All that was left was an odd sense of fear and comfort, a dichotomy that lulled me into a deep sleep.
My heart struggled to pump one more beat, one more second of being alive.
And then—
'Desculpe, mãe.'
xXx
Dreams are hard to come by in the favelas. Mãe said that the very first sound I heard when I was born was that of a bullet—my sister died that day, as if to compensate for the new life that came into being. I never knew her, or my brother, who never really made it into this world, or my father, who left when things got too hard.
I grew up in poverty and misery, barely a few clothes to my name, and a tattered, leather ball, which I had stolen from one of the kids in the neighborhood. Sorry, João. I wish I could have paid him back, but he died a few years before I moved to São Paulo.
We lived in a small, makeshift house, pieced together with cardboard, scrap metal, and wood; the rain always found its way in. Mãe worked two jobs. She was the strongest woman I knew.
Jairzinho, you'll be a great football player.
You'll make Mamãe proud.
I didn't put a lot of weight into her words; I was little, but it made her happy watching me play, and I loved it, so every day I would take that worn-out ball with me and dribble through the narrow alleys, from the Square of Unity to the fish market downhill. From uneven terrains to steeps uphill—but not the Morro dos Esquecidos.
That was Rafael Costa's territory.
With such a grand introduction to my early years of life, you'd think this would be the point where I joined a third-tier football team and moved onto a path of greatness and fame. That's still a few years away, unfortunately.
It was when I was 18, about to join Goiás Esporte Clube, a promising step for someone like me. They weren't the giants like Flamengo or Palmeiras, but they had a solid reputation and a history of nurturing raw talent. I remember the day I got the call vividly. The scout had seen me play in a local tournament, weaving through defenders with an ease that made it seem like they were standing still. He was impressed, and I was ecstatic.
Moving to Goiás meant leaving behind everything I knew—the narrow alleys, the makeshift house, and most importantly, Mãe. But it was also a chance to escape the cycle of poverty and give Mãe the life she deserved. She was thrilled, of course, her eyes lighting up with a mix of pride and tears.
"Vai, meu filho. Make your dreams come true." She said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'll be fine here. Just focus on your football."
But life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it. Just two days before my departure…
Mãe was killed.
She was coming back home when a botched drug transaction landed her between two gangsters with automatic weapons. She had gone out to buy a small cake with some of our hard-earned savings, shattering the piggy bank—to celebrate.
And that was it.
She was shot, along with three civilians that happened to be present at the crossfire. When police showed up, there wasn't much left of the bodies, riddled with lead and shattered pieces of bones.
Rafael Costa's men did it.
Rafael-fucking-Costa.
Now, I ask myself...
Where was justice when she needed it the most? Where were the police when I had to bury her coffin six feet under a cold, stone grave? I suppose, at the time, the answer was a simple one. No money means no power. Corrupt officers didn't care for some poor faveladan, slaughtered like an animal. To them, that incident would be passed as a gang dispute… and forgotten.
But I wouldn't forget.
It was then that I made one of the most reckless choices of my life, a completely different path. No ball in my feet, but a gun in my hand. I would find Rafel Costa, that fucking son of a bitch.
BOPE.
Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais. A special police unit that was created with the sole purpose of dealing with counter-terrorism and high-risk operations, everything that the normal police couldn't deal with.
I was not afraid to throw my life down the drain, driven by vengeance. I needed money, connections, training. Things I could get by joining the military. I needed to find closure, even if it was by spilling more blood. I couldn't let that bastard get away with Mãe's death. Not when the streets knew his name.
Don't misunderstand me. This was not what Mãe wanted. But dreams are hard to come by in the favelas. I could no longer concentrate on football. I'd take matters into my hands, whatever the cost.
There'd be no debts left by the time I was done.
Favelas bred a harsh environment—it's dog eats dog. Join a gang, be your own man. Die young, the gun finds everyone.
I've seen it happen day after day. Dead bodies lining the narrow alleys.
To have faith here is to be an idiot. You couldn't be weak. Had to keep your head low, be smart, and know which crowd to avoid.
Mãe didn't deserve this end. So I promised myself that I'd find him, this Rafael Costa.
BOPE wanted people like me in their ranks, idiots that took up on guns not for the country, but for themselves.
I went through all sorts of training and boot-camp experience. Urban warfare was taught through many grueling and horrific scenarios designed to break a soldier. I was spat on and beaten daily, but never complained—instead, I used that as fuel to succeed where so many others failed. It wasn't long until BOPE had made a soldier out of me.
Even with the vicious training of my new branch, the dream of playing football did not die inside me. The life I could have lived was ripped from me before I had the time to grab it.
Rafael Costa.
We were onto him.
It took two years.
Two excruciating years until I found a trail, and then a face.
I had waited a long time, honing my skills while doing small raids on the favelas, cleaning up trash, piling up bodies upon bodies, painting my boots with blood of people who made no difference. Drug cartels, drug dealers, drug shuttles, thieves and murderers, and any poor kid that made the mistake of pointing a gun at me.
We went after Rafael Costa and raided his hideouts across Rio de Janeiro. A drug war that shook the streets of Rio, ending Rafael Costa for good. We tracked him across the city, hitting every cartel under him in a calculated pincer movement to ensure he had no way out—except the grave. It was not going to be pretty, that was a given. But that's what I wanted.
A few bloodbaths later, we had that bastard cornered in one of his houses in his territory. He had been trembling, knowing we were coming for him. BOPE had established itself as a cutthroat unit, with highly trained soldiers that knew not the meaning of mercy.
And finally…
I got my prize. I put a bullet through Rafael's chest myself, looking down on him, and pouring the gasoline on his body. He was still alive, wheezing, never to know that a woman's death could cost him all of that.
Did it feel good?
Oh God, fucking yes.
Was it justice?
Who knows. I wasn't doing it for justice. I would have wanted him to die slower. I would have wanted him to beg. I wanted him to know why he was dying and to understand exactly why he was burning in such horrible agony.
This was about a debt long overdue. I no longer had tears to shed.
I'd have liked to say it was justice, just to ease Mãe's conscience.
BOPE wanted to promote me, which was certainly an attractive offer. However, this… had already taken its toll on me. I couldn't keep taking lives. Rafael Costa wouldn't have been the only gang I would have gone after. More drug lords would pop up, and blood would flow through Rio de Janeiro in droves.
To use myself for this was… wrong.
I just had to quit—even at the cost of betraying an institution that took a shit head like me and turned me into one of their finest operatives. I did not intend to wallow inside BOPE forever, anyway; I had one job and executed it to perfection.
It was time for me to chase after other dreams.
And so I did.
At long last, I wished to honor Mae's wish.
My squadmates supported me.
"Take your skills and play the sport you love." They'd say.
That's when the head coach of Goiás approached me again with an offer to play in his team. While I was two years late, he said that if I could shine like I did back then, the wait was well worth it.
At long last, I finally left my old life behind.
This time, I'd bring smiles instead of carving them.
Dreams are hard to come by in the favelas. When snow rolls down from a graying sky. When a pair of leather boots leave marks on an unkind soil. I'd play football instead of shooting someone down.
'I'll make you proud, Mamãe.'
xXx
That was Jair Campinho. World-renowned football player; proud member of the BOPE; son of Rosa Campinho.
At least, that was what I believed to be true until the day my eyes burst open.
Confusion, pain, and shock—they struck at me like a poisoned arrow. It hurt. A groan bled past my dry throat, eyes wide open to an unknown white ceiling. A glare bounced off of a bright fluorescent light and found my dilated pupils, eliciting a second pang of pain.
It was loud, voices all around me, yelling in worry, or something close to it—except that I couldn't understand.
Someone took my palm, or should I call it a child's small fist, in her hand—a gentle hand with cold fingers—and squeezed.
What were they saying?
Why did this pain echo into my mind? Why did my body ache all over? And how had I come here? Was it another terrorist attack? Another operation, in which I took a hit to the head and was brought back to the hospital for rehabilitation?
No—I was...
I was playing.
I couldn't understand.
'Did I score? Did we win…?'
Something was inserted into my arms. In the corner of my blurred vision, I saw the outline of a syringe, then the hand with a cold hand caressed my head.
Her words—they were weird; I didn't comprehend their meaning. It didn't seem like English, Portuguese, nor Spanish—if she could talk, then why could I not?
Oh, the operation might have done some nerve damage to my tongue, and possibly left me mute.
There was no need to despair; doctors can always fix it.
At least—at the very least... Brazil won?
Or was I in a… bad dream?
Mamãe, my body hurts, and I'm all alone.
Why did your warmth leave me so early?
Mamãe, what must I do from now on?
Everything felt so weird, so disconnected.
A woman approached. She was incredibly big and blurry. Those damn lights!
Her arms filled my field of vision before I felt myself being lifted up with uncanny ease. Her face became clearer as she brought me closer. "Shhh." There was a gentle sparkle in her purple eyes. Purple? "Mama's here… there's no need to be scared, my sweet, beautiful child. My sweet Cha Jae-il."
REMOVE ADS FROM $1
Report chapter CommentsContact - ToS
RE: KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY (SECRET CLASS)2 — Baby Steps
Everything that happened next was a whirlwind, a mess of images and disembodied voices that danced inside my throbbing head.
Once I gained enough awareness to realize that I was held inside the grasp of a lady with lavender eyes—it only got harder to digest the things happening around me.
My surroundings kept changing as I slept and woke up in bursts. It was all so disorienting. My body constantly pulled me into a state of drowsiness.
The woman was with me throughout, cooing and showering me with gentle touches and caresses, as if her purpose in life was to devote herself to the sole purpose of looking after me.
Sometimes she wasn't there, however. A chubby man would watch over me. I didn't see him clearly, but he was bigger and possessed the air of a rough yet kind person.
My blurry, unfocused vision finally cleared up a bit when he picked me up. At long last, I could put a face on that voice. It wasn't a pretty face, but at least it was a friendly one.
I vaguely sensed the relief and pride welling up in his eyes.
"Finally a son."
He mumbled—not that I could understand what he meant. The phonetic pattern in his language resembled South Korean. Having played against the Korean team once, I still recalled a few words in their language.
I flinched when he got so close to my face that I could see a rough coat of fur on his upper lip.
Yeah, I definitely preferred the woman's presence.
Speak of the devil and she shall appear.
She must've come out beyond the fuzzy edge of my world. Because one moment I was there, in the man's arms, and in the next I was being traded off like a toy.
"Guuhh..."
Was that my voice?
Hearing it brought on a wave of uneasiness. Its pitiful squeak sounded utterly alien.
For reasons I failed to comprehend, both the woman and the man were touched by those attempts at speech.
That was the last thing I saw before slumber overtook me.
Later that evening, while the woman hummed a melodious tune, she sat on a stool, breast uncovered and feeding me milk. If my mind allowed me to think clearly, I would have been quite mortified by it all, and even more confused as to what was happening.
I'd been sleeping so much that puzzling things together became even harder than it would've been normally. The surreality of it all continued to nag at me. I felt like I'd wake up at any moment, as if I'd blink out of existence and find myself back in my apartment, ready for an important press conference about the latest match.
Instead, here I was, trapped in a feverish dream with strange, unfamiliar faces surrounding me.
'Wake up. Please.'
But nothing changed. My eyes stayed closed, and reality refused to shift. The woman simply rocked me back and forth.
xXx
Over time, my senses began to clear, bringing forth sensations that I could finally decipher.
It felt nice to get a hold of the thread of reality, for once.
I didn't know how long I'd been born; I could hardly keep track of how much I slept, let alone the passing of days. What I knew, however, was that my strength and ability to move independently were growing.
First, I learned my name, Cha Jae-il.
The rest came in trickles and drabs. Names. Simple phrases and easy words. As expected, the woman—Eun Ha, or so I believed her name to be—was my new mother.
The man, my father. His name was Cha Yeong Gu; the man of the house, rarely at home due to his work hours, leaving Eun Ha in charge of watching over the children, including me.
Next were my older sisters. Mia and Su Ah. They were curious children. Mia was the oldest, as our mother seemed to instill the value of responsibility into her more than Su Ah.
She was a rebellious little thing, adorable, affectionate, but a bit too mischievous.
This thought had been acknowledged and passed along to whoever was in charge of reincarnating souls—specifically, the bureaucratic office handling such matters—because at this moment, my face was completely covered by a slice of cheese.
At least, Su Ah was less prone to troublemaking. Instead, she was quieter, reserved. More observant and intelligent. She didn't play with me as much as Mia did. She observed me from afar, as if worried about upsetting or accidentally hurting me, always minding the distance.
As I became more self-aware, more capable of understanding what was around me, my fears started to grow more palpable, digging deep into my psyche.
Being born again.
With memories intact.
The implications were earth-shaking. All of my experiences, my beliefs, and my values were challenged by this. But then I told myself, what could I possibly do? File a complaint to the customer service of, what, God?
Rationally speaking, I wasn't in any position to deal with something of this level.
It would be unhelpful to drown myself in existentialism.
I decided to accept it for what it was, and move on.
There wasn't much left for me anymore. The biggest part of me stayed behind, buried with my mother. I guess all I have now is my career—my only real ambition. And with it, the weight of everyone's expectations.
We weren't living in poverty. In fact, it seemed like we lived a life of moderate luxury.
There was no danger of a stray bullet passing by, a drug deal gone wrong, a knife to the throat, or even a hard winter day without food. By these standards, life was easy going.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss Rio's blazing sun, but I found an inexplicable feeling of peace within this modest home.
Perhaps this could be a blessing in disguise?
If it is...
Then please, Mamãe, look upon us kindly.
I'd start over.
If this wasn't my imagination or some kind of terrible fever dream, then I would try to build the life I was supposed to live. I wouldn't let it slip by me a third time.
Thus, my journey began anew.
…
They say that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
And that's exactly what I decided to do.
Being confined in a crib was, let's say, less than pleasant. If only there was a way to pull myself forward, preferably faster than the snail's pace of simply crawling. I didn't know how old I was, but I figured it was about damn time I began to get those tiny legs of mine moving.
For what other purpose is muscle mass stored in these squishy limbs other than being used, right?
I couldn't stand up from the ground up with no support; I knew my limits.
So I decided to use the couch for that purpose.
Pull yourself over.
Then push forward with whatever force my legs could handle.
Yeah, I wasn't that dumb or strong. The amount of energy needed to sustain momentum would soon turn into dead weight, and I'd likely tumble down.
Would I bruise if I fell down? Maybe. But it was a small price to pay to pursue bigger goals, literally.
Well, there goes the first push. My hands left the couch.
Oh. That wasn't so hard.
I was, somehow, standing without any support. It was a rickety posture that'd crumble at the slightest impact, but that was an achievement I would take full credit for.
There was no way I could now freely walk around the house. Baby steps and all that shit.
I decided to set a target. A destination for my first voyage as a semi-independent entity.
Let's say the coffee table?
It was a short walk away from where I was, and the risk of toppling down would be minimized.
Alright, let's do it.
A tentative step. My right leg moved forward. Then my left foot.
Everything was okay.
Nothing felt out of place. It was perfectly normal, human, walking behavior. I couldn't believe it. I had done it. A single, tiny accomplishment in my life was, in fact, an achievement, if an unexpected one.
'Let's keep going...'
xXx
Meanwhile, Mia who had wandered closer toward the kitchen, paused her animated chit-chat with a disinterested Su Ah and peered to the left, where her mom was escorting dad to the main entrance.
He was wearing a smart suit, so he probably was going to work, perhaps an important negotiation meeting? She didn't know. Didn't care.
But she couldn't help but notice that her dad kept fiddling with his tie, seemingly out of habit.
Her mom, on the other hand, was donned in a stylish red blouse, hair straightened up neatly—an apron covering her clothes.
"Honey, how long will you be away for this time?" Eun Ha's hand drifted over the collars of Yeong Gu's shirt, smoothening a crease.
"You know how things can be." Yeong Gu rubbed the nape of his neck, muttering to his wife. "Hopefully no more than a week, this time." He sounded as exasperated as Eun Ha was.
Mia tilted her head, not really understanding or caring much for their conversation. Adults talk about things, the meaning behind their words flying over her tiny head. Her gaze, however, drifted past her parents, focusing instead on the adjacent living room.
Her attention fixated on a sight that drew a surprised gasp from her.
"Jae-il! You're finally walking!" Mia broke into a wide grin that reached from ear to ear before she proceeded to bounce off to the living room area.
Her smile grew into a contagious laugh, drawing Eun Ha and Yeong Gu's attention, whose shoulders tensed up, a moment before whirling around to what their daughter was excited about.
"Honey..." Eun Ha's hand, that moments before were resting on Yeong Gu's collar, fell limply at her side from the shock. "Honey, oh gosh, look. Look! He's walking!"
Her previous concerns all but abandoned, Eun Ha ran towards Jae-il, who completed his last step and seemingly reached his destination.
She picked him up like a priceless trophy—but what was the point of keeping it on display if nobody else was there to look?—And started pointing him to the proud-looking, albeit increasingly confused and surprised Yeong Gu.
"Mom! I wanna hold him too!"
Mia whined, hands wiggling in the air, as if to grab her younger brother.
Jae-il, on the other hand, looked absolutely stunned at being suddenly whisked from the coffee table to a hug, and then held in front of his father.
"Dear..." Yeong Gu began, adjusting his glasses. "Isn't Jae-il only 5 months old this year? Isn't it a bit too early for him to do this...?"
While his wife seemed too elated at the fact of her child finally walking, his words caused her smile to freeze.
"Right…?"
Jae-il, held between both parents, was now being scrutinized quite heavily.
"..."
REMOVE ADS FROM $1
Report chapter CommentsContact - ToS
RE: KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY (SECRET CLASS)3 — Baby Steps II
"He never plays with other kids."
Eun Ha's gaze followed Jae-il as he wobbled his way around the playground.
He never engaged with any of his friends; he'd be sitting somewhere out of harm's way, contentedly enjoying his own company. Whenever someone tried to play with him, he'd respond politely, but that's all he'd ever do. It wasn't like he was avoiding them; he'd engage with his classmates if he had to.
It was an unnerving trait that emerged out of Jae-il. Despite his age, despite the circumstances around him, Jae-il did not cry or make a fuss. Last time they'd been on the playground, he got a nasty bruise on the knee after a girl pushed him down for ignoring her, and yet he'd barely made a sound.
Jae-il hadn't been given an aptitude test or any of that sort; Eun Ha had been considering it because his development seemed to have been going faster than normal children.
After all, Jae-il spoke his first word earlier than either of his siblings did, and it was far from the babble-like noises that newborns usually spouted.
"My little angel is just special."
There was also the concern regarding social skills. The kindergarten teachers had mentioned his lack of interactions outside of learning activities. However, they were more surprised at his progress. At five months, he was able to walk, even if wobbly, without assistance, unlike a majority of babies his age, and at 15 months old, he could speak fluently, although with an understandable, childish tone.
Those qualities had caught the attention of a few mothers at the park. Most approached Jae-il with compliments regarding his cuteness, others wanted to ask questions regarding his advanced cognitive development.
Eun Ha was caught up in one of those conversations with three ladies who were asking her the usual questions.
"How do you raise him?"
"Do you feed him anything special?"
"What method did you adopt?"
"Ah, you're very lucky indeed."
One of the women remarked after Eun Ha shrugged and told her that there was no particular secret to raising her son. He basically raised himself.
"Yes..." Replied a lady, shaking her head in dismay. "My dear Lee Sang-hee can barely say her father's name and she's two years old!"
It wasn't only once or twice that this topic reemerged every time Eun Ha took Jae-il to playdates. She wouldn't mind conversing with them if there was useful advice to share, but there simply was nothing she could do about it. She was often left rather flustered at the barrage of questions those mothers would ask her, as if Jae-il's precocity was something out of a book that could be taught.
It was getting tiring after a while, though Eun Ha remained polite to the ladies, seeing as how they meant no offense whatsoever.
The children's laughter echoed across the playground. Not Jae-il's, of course.
"Aigoo." One of the ladies cooed.
"He's too adorable." Added another.
"He is! He really takes after your beauty!"
Another chimed in, grinning, her hands clasping together, as she watched Eun Ha's son carefully amble past her on his stubby legs.
Her cheeks pink, Eun Ha smiled, silently agreeing. "Thank you, Ms. Jung."
There were advantages to having such a well-behaved and independent baby.
Unlike some of the toddlers running wild at the park, he didn't require constant attention. Instead of spending hours watching his every move, Eun Ha could take a quick break to check in on Mia and Su Ah, who were playing on the swings and monkey bars nearby.
Still, she didn't like the fact that so many ladies seemed to be always eager to poke into the affairs of her son, as if they were birds of prey ready to take her son for themselves.
In fact, Eun Ha was slowly becoming irritated by the amount of attention Jae-il was receiving lately, but she managed to keep it hidden behind a veneer of friendliness.
Perhaps she should take Jae-il to another park? Maybe keep him at home? After all, to her it appeared that her son wasn't really that interested in playing with other children.
Nevertheless, she was concerned about his emotional growth.
Her husband, Yeong Gu, wasn't that worried about such matters. Instead, he was extremely proud, often remarking about how his youngest son was 'special.'
Even going as far as expressing, on multiple occasions, his interest in taking Jae-il with him on business trips. He believed he'd follow in his footsteps and create more generational wealth for the Cha Family; she believed Jae-il should be allowed the right amount of time to be the child he was.
Naturally, Eun Ha decisively turned that idea down, saying that doing so could potentially make him unable to form relationships outside of them.
The latter, as time passed, proved to be unnecessary.
Despite his young age, Jae-il demonstrated exceptional maturity and independence.
She was torn between admiration and concern for her little boy. While it was great to see him blossom so quickly, there were times when Eun Ha wished Jae-il would allow himself to lean on his family more.
"Come on, kids. Let's go home~"
Eun Ha gently clapped her hands, gathering Mia, Su-Ah and Jae-il.
Mia made a bit of a fuss, wanting to stay longer, but Su Ah and Jae-il obediently followed their mother's instructions.
Jae-il reached for her outstretched hand, though one could see a surprisingly comical exasperated expression on his face at having to hold onto his mother for the rest of the walk.
She turned towards her youngest, smiling fondly. "Did you have fun, son?"
"It was tolerable."
"Tolerable?" Eun Ha giggled, finding her son's vocabulary endearingly cute. "That sounds like a big word for such a little boy."
Jae-il rolled his eyes. He had tried to match his speech with that of a five-year-old.
This time, he went overboard.
"I'll have you know, Mom, that I'm three already. Big boy."
"Mm." Eun Ha's smile widened. "You certainly are."
They walked home in comfortable silence.
xXx
I knew that I was setting off some alarm bells in people's heads. That's not exactly what I wanted to happen, since the best course of action for this reborn life should be the opposite: lay low, do your own thing, and become successful later.
It wouldn't be good to draw suspicion. Who knows, maybe those who reincarnate end up getting dissected in a lab. Even so, I just couldn't bring myself to pretend to be a three-year-old and babble nonsense.
I did try, for the first week. Then gave up when I noticed myself slipping back into my original speech.
Another reason was that life as a toddler was immeasurably boring.
The whole issue of getting stuck inside a toddler's body wasn't as cool as stories made it out to be. No, it was outright humiliating. You were treated as someone inferior, incapable of rational thought. Every single task was rewarded with excessive praise, as if I'd done the most outstanding thing.
At the same time, I had no access to electronics, nor any information aside from a few books my family would buy for me. The toys my 'parents' bought me were still in their original boxes—I had no intention of wasting what precious energy I had playing with colorful plastic bricks.
No… I had to find ways to pass the time until I was big enough to make my own choices, without having anyone hovering over me.
And only one thought was running through my mind.
'I want to play football again.'
"Dad."
So, I approached my father.
Yeong Gu was sitting on the couch, a newspaper in his hands. It was his usual routine when he was idling—whenever he wasn't playing mini golf in the living room.
I waited until the newspaper was promptly folded and put aside. Yeong Gu looked at me expectantly. His voice was gentle. "What is it, son? Do you need anything?"
"I want to kick stuff." I replied, determined and straightforward.
"Kick stuff? Do you want a ball?"
"Yes."
Yeong Gu paused, apparently in deep thought. He rubbed his chin. "What kind of ball do you want?"
I turned around and pointed at the TV. There was a sports channel playing.
Specifically, I pointed at the image of a black-white football currently in mid-air, before landing straight in the net. Ironically, that very same net belonged to the South Korean team, which was losing badly against England in the group stage.
Yeong Gu's lips curved into a satisfied smile. He nodded. "Football, huh?"
I bobbed my head. "Yes."
"And you want it now?"
I bobbed my head once again. "If possible..."
In my previous life, I never asked my mother for anything—we simply couldn't afford it. I wasn't used to making such requests to my new parents either. Plain old habits.
Yeong Gu laughed and ruffled my hair. "We can pick it up later. Getting active early will do you good."
It wasn't like I could replicate my skills from my past life.
The coordination of my arms, legs, and fingers, not to mention the control of muscles, balance, and overall weight management, were different in this body, and thus needed a whole lot of training to adapt my playstyle.
It would take a while until I reached the point I was before.
But my experience was there.
Meanwhile, in that brief interaction with my father, South Korea conceded another goal.
'Is this the team I'll play for in the future?'
REMOVE ADS FROM $1
Report chapter CommentsContact - ToS
RE: KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY (SECRET CLASS)4 — Baby Steps III
Mia's 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.
REMOVE ADS FROM $1
Report chapter CommentsContact - ToS
RE: KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY (SECRET CLASS)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.
REMOVE ADS FROM $1
Report chapter CommentsContact - ToS
RE: KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY (SECRET CLASS)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.
The echoes of grander stadiums resonated faintly in his mind.
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.
"Well, took you long enough. Done showing off for all your new fans?" She jerked her chin vaguely towards the dwindling crowd of parents, some of whom were still glancing their way.
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 in the air. How did you… make it do that?"
Jae-il offered a small, clinical smile. "It's mostly in the way you connect with the ball, Su Ah Noona. A bit of practice."He then turned his calm gaze to Mia. "And 'showing off' implies an unnecessary or ostentatious display, sister. I prefer to think of it as an… efficient demonstration of applied skill. Less drama, more results. Wouldn't you agree?"
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 taunts, but sometimes it hit her anew just how different her little brother was from other children. Other people in general.
"Fine, Mr. Football Genius." She said, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "So, what do we do now? Stand around and wait for your adoring fans to bring you flowers and chocolates?"
He chuckled softly, a surprisingly deep sound coming from such a small frame. "No, Mia Noona. I'm thinking ice cream would be a more suitable reward." His eyes twinkled, and for a moment, Mia caught a glimpse of her little brother—the child, not the strange, wise beyond his years enigma—peeking out from behind his serious demeanor.
"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 newfound fame, 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. "It's a timeless classic."
As they made their way to their father, Mia couldn't help but glance at her brother.
She wrinkled her nose, her lips curling into a smirk. "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.
REMOVE ADS FROM $1
Report chapter CommentsContact - ToS