Here we are. Another important step.

  The stadium lights were so bright that they bleached the grass.

  The cacophony was indescribable. The noise echoed, rolled, and resonated inside the bowl-shaped coliseum like a crashing wave. I've been in this situation countless times in the past, and even more so over the st couple of months. I should've been excited, like I usually was before an important game.

  By now, the roar should've lit me up, turned my blood into rocket fuel. I should've been running out there on legs pumped up with the superhuman power of a bulldozer, with fire pouring out of my mouth and eyes, roaring as loud as the crowd.

  It did, a little.

  But not as much as usual. I was more excited about getting the match over with than the thrill of the actual match itself.

  My body couldn't show anything other than a robotic composure.

  My mind was focused on finishing the tournament and taking it down, as soon as humanly possible, and returning home, because that was where the real victory, the real winning trophy, the real high would be.

  'Come here, little bro. Give your Noona lots of hugs and kisses... and—'

  Mia's eyes peered at me.

  'Jae-il... I've got another idea for a kiss, this time, both leads are naked and—'

  Su Ah's eyes peered at me.

  Hah.

  I shook my head. The fantasy bubbles slowly scattered.

  Leave it to Su Ah to fuck with my head, screw it so I couldn't think of anything besides what she'd said and did that night. Leave it to her and to Mia. Both devil-bitches had royally screwed me over. I had taken a chance, a stupid one, with Mia. Now that I'd touched the golden snake with my stick, there would be repercussions and complications aplenty, especially since I wasn't fully equipped to handle her psychotic tendencies.

  As for Su Ah...

  She was a problematic variable.

  Even if Su Ah ended up as an unwanted consequence, and a headache I really could've lived without, this particur elephant couldn't just be pushed into a closet and forgotten about. Dealing with Mia and whatever came along with being with her was manageable, in the greater scheme of things.

  That being said, our deal was a secret. It wasn't like we could funt anything openly. Mia would, obviously, keep her mouth shut. It was her neck on the block, too, but with Su Ah in the fray? The moment either of the sisters so much as breathed the wrong thing at the wrong pce at the wrong time, the jig would be up.

  If the rest of the family ever got wind that both sisters had engaged in unspeakable acts with their brother, it would be a whole other mess. Let alone if shit blew up on an international scale, because that's where my career was heading.

  A shitty situation. Truly.

  I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders, bouncing on my feet. Tap. Tap. I knocked the tip of my boot against the floor.

  Yeah, it was better to focus my thoughts elsewhere, like the ball at my feet. My game face was firmly pstered, and hopefully, none would see or suspect just how much stress was wearing down on my psyche.

  We were surrounded by people, packed shoulder to shoulder like commuters in an elevator.

  This wasn't a big event on the world stage—not by any means. U-17 had their moments of glory as well, but no one really talks about us.

  I don't have the endorsements and clout of the U-21 pyers. Just some media attention. A decent following. And a whole lot of expectations. 'That one handsome Korean guy who pys football.' The football fangirls wouldn't pay nearly the same amount of attention if I weren't as good-looking.

  "Come on, guys. We've got this!"

  Someone said from the back. Jong-su. Definitely that bastard.

  "Shit… I can't believe we got this far."

  "I mean, we couldn't possibly lose with Jae-il and Jun-hwan."

  "Ah, don't jinx it. Don't jinx it!"

  "Jae-il looks mad focused today…"

  "He looks more handsome too."

  "......"

  My teammates chattered behind me.

  Eagerness. Excitement. Anxiety. They encouraged themselves that we'd take this one home too, while I silently encouraged myself that this game I had going on with my sisters was not the type to risk my entire fucking life, career, happiness, and future over.

  Focus on football.

  Focus on the ball.

  I opened my eyes and filed out of the tunnel along with everyone else.

  The air was warmer than usual today. I briefly squinted under the bright lights.

  Camera fshes. Thousands of phones. Hundreds of eyes. Voices. Heat. Then, in the stands, someone in the crowd. They began screaming my name. More screaming. Then the whole pce erupted. It was deafening.

  I jogged onto the pitch.

  Then everything started happening in the most traditional fashion. Warm-up. Coach talking tactics. Captains meeting. Token handshake with the opposing captain. Go to the middle. Cheers. Smiles. Gave each other pats on the shoulder and waved to the fans.

  Finally, the familiar whistle cut through the air.

  I received the ball with the inside of my foot. And for one blessed second, everything else vanished. Mia's nails on my back. Her thighs locked tightly around me. Su Ah's lips on mine, grinding herself on me. It was just me. Just the ball and the grass beneath my boots. It felt like old times.

  I pyed it back, giving the rest of the team enough time and space to spread out. I knew the ball would eventually find Jun-hwan's feet; he was the maestro in the midfield after all. So I focused on running up the field. The ball was a living thing now, moving from one side of the pitch to the other, with the Saudi defense struggling to regain possession.

  I went into motion. A leisurely stroll that turned into a sprint. My legs pumped with power. A path slowly cleared, opening up a ne ahead of me. I pushed up the center as Jun-hwan faked one, sending a looping pass up.

  Ah, it was perfect. The spirit of Pirlo lived within him.

  The pass was aimed straight at my run and headed almost perfectly. I read it a step before it arrived and redirected it perfectly onto my right foot.

  I brought it down, controlled it, let the pressure of my touch put a spin on it, then transferred to my left. In three quick steps, I went on the offensive, going face-to-face with a Saudi pyer.

  The moment the defender stepped, I adjusted and cut left. He tried to follow, to lock me in. I faked towards the right. He committed. I pushed left again, faster than before. He lost bance for a split-second, stumbling slightly on his heels.

  That split-second was all I needed.

  I exploded past him.

  A few yards ter, there were more pyers, but my pace had been too great. I shot forward, cutting across the entire half with a swerve that took the fullbacks by surprise.

  Now the only thing I could hear was the rush of my blood past my eardrums and the pounding of the grass under my feet.

  One pyer managed to squeeze himself in the way, to cut off my access.

  It didn't matter.

  With an overstep that threatened a rolling ankle and a feint that had him ft-footed, I shot to the right, giving him a false glimpse of which direction I intended to go.

  He still managed to swing a leg my way. His studs clipped my ankle. I winced, nearly tumbled, but quickly re-positioned and banced and darted right back. Two other defenders came to stop the unstoppable. I grinned when one cut off in front of me, the other sneakily grabbing a fistful of my shirt and trying to trip me.

  I nudged the ball away from the first defender, letting it roll just far enough that he had to lunge. He missed. The second one still had jersey in his fist, so I dropped my shoulder hard, spun out of his grip like I was shedding a coat and left both defenders ft and in the dust.

  I sped away, like a soaring bird. The crowd erupted and my teammates roared from behind me as I sprinted into an emptier box. The Saudi's defence desperately closed ranks before I could squeeze through the gap. It didn't matter. I smiled. Go for a shot? Nah. I mean, I could've. Sure. But from this distance there were no guarantees.

  And, well, someone was making such a beautiful overpping run that it would've been an insult not to pass it to him. I had hogged the ball long enough. My eyes flicked up.

  I looked towards Sung-tae on my right—who was dashing forward, his arm raised. I had seen him. Of course I did.

  So I passed it to Dae-hyun on my left, never taking my eyes off of Sung-tae.

  The remaining Saudi defenders were fooled, leaving a yawning gap open. The goalie reacted.

  Dae-hyun connected, and his long, graceful stride bought him enough distance to toe it and push the ball right into the box. A brief touch to adjust, and he hammered a clean strike with the inside of his foot.

  Thud!

  The shot had such a hard, fast flick on it. A slight curler. The keeper slid, but was just short, and the ball snuck past him and rolled into the back of the net.

  1-0

  My team erupted.

  "Good run, you crazy man!"

  Sung-tae leapt over to Dae-hyun's side and went in for a jumping hug. "What do you have in those legs? Jesus Christ!" He whooped, pumping a fist. The guys all cheered, back-spping and ruffling hair in an enthusiastic mass dogpile.

  Yes, the dogpile was a ritual no one could escape from. Enjoy the sweaty pile, Dae-hyun!

  "Jae-il, you beast! What the fuck did they feed you back there, son?!"

  "Kimchi." I chirped, a smile on my face.

  "Such a dribbling freak, dude."

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