I rolled around on the bed.
Recently, I'd expended quite a bit of energy making the rounds to major guilds for collection(?), and even flying all the way to North Korea to uncover the truth about the Gates.
Today, I was determined to rest without a care in the world.
Lying on my side, I mindlessly scrolled through my smartphone screen, blankly watching a gaming stream.
—Knock knock.
The door opened with a light knock.
Dad poked his head in, wearing the comfortable tracksuit he usually wore around the living room.
"My son. Are you very busy today?"
"No. Did something come up?"
I asked, turning only my gaze while still lying in bed.
Dad scratched his head sheepishly and stepped into the room.
"Well, one of the members of my early morning soccer club suddenly got sick and dropped out today. We're short exactly one person. You used to love soccer so much. Want to kick the ball around with your old man for old times' sake?"
My hand holding the smartphone froze.
Early morning soccer.
It was true that until three years ago, before the Gate Shock hit, I'd gone out to play every weekend.
But after my Awakening, after the System forcibly remodeled my body into this deformed magical girl form, I hadn't gone near soccer cleats.
I slowly sat up.
"Won't people say something if I go? With my body like this, they'll feel burdened playing with me."
"Hey, Dad already asked everyone! The members are already making a fuss about our hero coming. You just need to decide you'll go, son."
Dad smiled broadly, watching my reaction.
A face full of expectation that was hard to refuse.
"But is there anywhere to buy cleats at this hour? For my foot size, we'd have to go to a children's store."
"Haha! Dad already bought them just in case! Got the smallest uniform too! Let's go!"
Dad clenched his fist and dashed straight out to the living room.
His preparedness was excessively thorough.
I let out a small sigh as I got off the bed.
It seemed he'd been itching to kick the ball around with me sometime.
It was bothersome, but I couldn't pour cold water on Dad when he was this happy.
* * * * *
A well-maintained artificial turf field on the outskirts of the city center.
I got out of the passenger seat of Dad's car and walked toward the field.
It was full of middle-aged men sweating profusely and warming up from early weekend morning.
As we approached, the gazes of the stretching men turned toward us all at once.
"Hey everyone! Attention! We've brought our team's premium mercenary!"
Dad raised his voice, placing his hand on my shoulder.
"You all know from TV, but this is the National Savior born from South Korea! My proud son!"
Blatant flattery.
My face burned, but I endured and bowed my head.
I gave a light greeting and looked around.
Several men close to Dad were people I'd been acquainted with before.
But something felt strangely off.
'Why is their hair so thick.'
These were men who definitely used to have receding hairlines or bald spots on their crowns.
But now, every single one of them boasted jet-black, thick hair like men in their twenties.
One man, supposedly Dad's old friend, approached with a good-natured smile.
"Tae-ho! Do you remember me? This is the first time I'm seeing you up close since your body changed!"
"I remember."
I answered indifferently and lightly pointed my finger at the man's crown.
"But sir. You took... medicine, right?"
At my direct question, the man grinned and stylishly swept back his thick, stiff hair.
"Hahaha! It's all thanks to you! They developed hair loss medication from the monster byproducts you caught! You're not just a hero who saved South Korea, but a true hero who saved all the men of this land!"
"Please don't say that. I'm not a hero."
"Haha! So humble too!"
The men crowded around me, greeting me one by one.
Someone patting my back, someone staring curiously at my silver hair.
There were unfamiliar men I was seeing for the first time mixed in too.
Dad pushed forward a pleasant-looking man with a protruding belly.
"Tae-ho, call this man President Park. He's a wealthy man with over a hundred sundae soup chain stores nationwide!"
"Oh my, it's an honor to meet our hero. Please stop by our store when you have time. I'll serve you the special with extra meat."
"Thank you. I'll definitely visit later."
After the light greetings ended, Dad brought a sports bag from the bench.
It contained a yellow vest and pure white cleats.
I pulled the vest over my head.
Even though it was the smallest size, it fluttered down to my knees like a dress.
I sat on the bench and tied the cleats tightly.
"Dad. What's my position?"
"Hm? You're playing attacking midfielder! You've got good stamina, so just run around in the center and dish out passes!"
I stood up and lightly stepped on the grass.
The soft sensation of artificial turf traveled up through my soles.
The smell of sweat and dust I was experiencing after such a long time.
A pleasant excitement stirred in a corner of my chest.
The problem was my physical specs.
Without wrapping myself in mana, I was just pitifully frail.
But if I poured in mana at the usual output I used to tear apart monsters, the soccer ball would explode like a shell and pierce through the goalkeeper's solar plexus.
I closed my eyes and delicately adjusted my internal mana circuits.
I drew up only the tiniest amount of mana and wrapped it around every corner of my thin muscle fibers.
Erasing the limits of my frail body, I precisely set my physical abilities to exactly the level of an ordinary healthy adult male in his early thirties.
I lightly tapped a ball rolling on the ground with my instep.
Thump, thump.
The sensation wasn't bad.
Rather, thanks to my smaller build, my center of gravity stuck right to the ground, making ball control incredibly smooth.
As I warmed up, the man acting as referee blew his whistle.
Players from both teams gathered at the center line, exchanged light handshakes, and scattered to their positions.
—Tweet!
The whistle sound announcing the match.
The first half began with the opposing team's kickoff.
The opposing team's men seemed conscious of my small build and didn't press hard initially.
But that consideration ended after exactly five minutes.
A ball cleared by our team's defender in midfield rolled to my feet.
I lightly stopped the ball with my sole.
I scanned forward.
Two opposing defenders were rushing at me, surrounding my left and right.
To my vision that had read tens of thousands of monster waves, the movements of neighborhood early morning soccer men were no different from frozen slow motion.
I pushed the ball forward and feinted turning my body right.
The instant the defender's center of gravity shifted, I twisted my ankle and pulled the ball left.
Phantom dribble.
With a single concise movement, I flowed through between the two like water.
"Uh, huh?!"
Leaving behind the defenders' flustered voices, I broke through the center.
The ball stuck to my toes, perfectly controlled according to my intent.
Up front, Dad and President Park were charging toward the penalty box.
A gap in the opposing defensive line.
I sharply sliced the bottom of the ball with my right instep.
The ball arced over the defenders' heads and dropped precisely in front of Dad's chest as he ran forward.
A brilliant through pass.
"Nice!!"
After trapping the ball with his chest, Dad immediately fired a right-footed shot without hesitation.
The goal net rippled satisfyingly.
"Waaaah!! Did you see that?! What was that pass just now!"
"That's insane! Does he have eyes on his back!"
Our team's men rushed over, shouting in excitement.
Dad, looking like he owned the world, did a knee slide, then picked me up and bounced around.
"This is my son!! My blood!!"
My ribs felt like they'd be crushed, but I didn't push him away, lightly placing my hand on Dad's back.
The second half that followed was also a perfect melee.
Having perfectly adapted to controlling my strength, I completely dominated midfield.
I intercepted the opponent's passes, charged into empty spaces, and stabbed in sharp killer passes.
Just before the match ended, the score was tied 3:3.
I caught the ball near the halfway line.
I saw Dad gasping for breath as he sprinted down the right flank.
The last attacking chance.
I took a deep breath and put power into my instep, launching a long pass.
The ball cutting through the air stuck to Dad's feet like a magnet.
Dad lightly pushed the ball in as the goalkeeper rushed out.
A dramatic goal.
—Tweeeet! Tweet! Tweet!
The long whistle sound announcing the end of the match rang out.
Score 4:3. Our team's thrilling comeback victory.
Dad lay sprawled on the grass, breathing heavily, but the smile never left his lips.
I too had sweat dripping down my forehead, but it was a refreshing fatigue I hadn't felt in a long time.
Only after the team gathered together to take commemorative photos covered in sweat, and I even signed the backs of several men's uniforms, could we finally leave the field.
* * * * *
The place we arrived at after the match was President Park's sundae soup restaurant.
He closed the entire store and held a modest gathering just for the early morning soccer club members.
On the table were steaming boiled pork and head meat, and sundae soup filled to the brim in earthenware pots.
And green soju bottles solidly filling the space beside them.
"Now now! For Hunter Tae-ho, who led our team to victory with incredible passes today!!"
President Park raised his soju glass high and led the toast.
"Cheers!!"
The rough men's toast echoed loudly through the restaurant.
I also picked up the soju glass in front of me and downed it in one gulp.
Keu. Sweet.
The bizarre scene of a silver-haired beautiful girl skillfully knocking back soju.
But the men who already knew my identity just clapped warmly.
"Man, the national hero even plays ball differently! How does that kind of power come from such a small body?"
"Did you see that Marseille turn earlier? I seriously thought Zidane had come!"
After several rounds of soju, the atmosphere heated up.
The men started with tales of my goal-scoring exploits, then brought up my Gate activities they'd seen on the news, praising me until their mouths went dry.
Dad sat beside me, emptying his glass endlessly while grinning nonstop.
His shoulders raised high looked quite pleasant to see.
"My son, you see! He's had exceptional ball-kicking sense since he was young!"
Using Dad's endless flattery as drinking snacks, I too didn't refuse the offered drinks and drank them one after another.
A moderate alcohol buzz. The lively smell of human life.
The morning feeling of not wanting to come out because it was bothersome had completely disappeared.
Only after quite a few bottles rolled around on the table did the pleasant gathering end.
* * * * *
The penthouse entrance.
Dad entered the password and staggered as he opened the door.
I too, drunk on alcohol, followed Dad inside with my eyes half-closed.
"We're ho—"
—Smack!!
Before Dad's greeting could finish.
Mom's sharp palm shot out from the darkness and struck Dad's back soundly.
"Ow!! H-honey! Why are you hitting me!"
"Oh my! Oh my! I can't live like this!"
Mom stood at the entrance, frowning deeply as she poured out her nagging.
"The kid's been called out every day lately and is exhausted to death, and you just had to drag him to the field from morning?! And what's this smell? Did you both fall into a liquor barrel?!"
Mom's sharp gaze turned toward me.
"My puppy, you too! Even if Dad tempted you, still, drinking so much you're plastered in broad daylight! You'll ruin your stomach!"
"Uh... I couldn't refuse what Dad offered..."
I averted my gaze slightly and made excuses.
Mom let out a deep sigh and took off my outer clothes.
"Go wash up! Mom will make you some refreshing bean sprout soup so you can cure your hangover first!"
Mom disappeared toward the kitchen with quick steps.
Dad and I, standing side by side at the entrance, watched her retreating figure and chuckled quietly.
Dad rubbed his still-stinging back and whispered to me.
"Mom's pretty angry. We'll have to be careful for a while."
I leaned against the wall and took off my shoes.
As I untied my sneaker laces, I turned my head and looked up at Dad.
"Dad."
"Yeah?"
"If someone drops out next week too, call me. I'll go play ball."
At my indifferent words, Dad's eyes widened like a rabbit's.
Soon a bright smile like a child's spread across his wrinkled face.
"Yeah! Of course! Dad will clean your cleats and wait!"
"But let's keep the after-party moderate. I don't want to get my back hit again."
Dad nodded vigorously.
Reeking of alcohol, we walked into the living room together.
