Free Web NovelI thought as I read the messages.
Well, no wonder. I’d never shown anyone how much I’d changed since that CSAT two years ago. From his standpoint it must’ve been a shock that I dance well—at a main-dancer level, no less—let alone think I’d be good at sports, too. Even our Deok-soon stares at me strangely now.
Han Tae-hyun [What the heck]
Han Tae-hyun [I know you]
Han Tae-hyun [That legendary Yeouido Park incident still lives in memory...]
I quickly replied.
Me [Shut up]
Me [I’ll pose as a netizen and leak your pre-debut scandals]
Han Tae-hyun [Oh sorry]
Han Tae-hyun [(zipper-mouth emoji)]
I remembered his trainee days, crying over his off-key singing while eating soboropan. He used to troll us, but however many scandals he has, he can’t top mine.
The legendary Yeouido Park incident: back in TJ days we went for spring photos at Yeouido Park with other trainees, and ended up playing basketball by chance.
“Sorry! Sorry! Are you hurt? I’m not used to the ball yet.”
“Hyung, are you okay? You idiot. Of course you’ll get hit if you stand under the hoop.”
“Woo-joo... you really are blessed to be born with that face.”
I heard all kinds of remarks. No wonder—every dribble smacked me in the face; when I reached for the ball I got punched in the solar plexus; I knocked into passersby with a stray dribble and other trainees had to catch the rebound with their faces; people still called me up after I refused, only to back off when they saw me play.
“Hyung? What’s wrong? You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I smiled at Bi-ju’s worried voice. Ri-hyeok, pulling back the bow with all his might, said,
“You’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The sad look you get recalling a shameful past.”
“Oh... no, I don’t have that. I have no such memories.”
“Of course you do; you make scandals as easily as breathing... ow! My hand!”
Ri-hyeok held up his reddened palm in pain. That was exactly me. When I looked at him sympathetically, he snapped,
“Why are you looking at me like you relate?”
“I’ve been through that too.”
“What are you talking about? You were on fire even in the trainee days.”
“That’s right. You deceiver.”
Then I remembered Joo Se-han existed. I tapped the chat full of unanswered “1?” messages.
Me [Haven’t you seen me with Joo Se-han?]
He probably had no time to see, so I was about to type again when a reply came.
Han Tae-hyun [Wasn’t that staged?]
Me [...]
Me [You didn’t believe it at all, haha]
I lifted my gaze to the target board. Five 10-point arrows—now six.
“Ha ha!”
We cheered at Jung-hyun’s arrow from the next lane. Ji-ho called me over.
“Hyung, show us a demo. We’ll learn.”
“Okay.”
I stood as Jung-hyun handed me the bow, then texted Tae-hyun.
Me [You jerk...]
Me [I’ll ,, show you ,, the changed me ,,]
A reply came instantly.
Han Tae-hyun [Are you drunk?]
Han Tae-hyun [No]
Han Tae-hyun [Ah haha right you can’t be since you passed out]
Han Tae-hyun [Sun Woo-joo the alcoholic boy]
My lip trembled. I wondered if there was a MiTube video called “How to Teamkill a Annoying Basketball Teammate.” If so, I’d learn it and use it.
At dawn on February 1st, the idol sports day arrived. This “Dollympic” was filmed over two days; today was Day One.
“Ugh...”
I slouched on the dark living room sofa like a tadpole. Maybe three hours of sleep? I’d stayed up late preparing for the Masterpiece Discovery! finals in Jeju; I was exhausted. The octopus and squid on either side of me looked the same.
“Ugh...”
“Aigo, I’m dying.”
While Bi-ju bustled in the kitchen, the three of us groaned.
“Clatter, clatter...”
As Jung-hyun packed his gear into a sports duffel, we urged him quietly,
“Hyung, can you pack more quietly? The noise echoes in my head.”
“Yeah, pack in a whisper.”
“Jung-hyun, pack quietly.”
“....”
Our glum bear asked,
“Can’t we all just go back to sleep?”
“No.”
I said,
“You have to see him off.”
“I’m fine, hyung. You all go back and sleep.”
“No. No.”
As the maknae sang “No, noooo” leaning on my shoulder, I said,
“Jung-hyun’s going out to play futsal, so as teammates we have to cheer...”
I made a fist and realized my shoulder hurt.
“Ow, my joints... um, where was I?”
“Cheering.”
“Right. We cheer. For our beetle.”
Other events, including basketball, would take place tomorrow with the opening ceremony; only futsal was today.
“....”
Spurred by our support, Jung-hyun quietly resumed packing.
“Rustle...”
“Rustle...”
“....”
I brushed my hair back.
“Jung-hyun.”
“Yes, hyung?”
“Pack with strength like always.”
“Yes.”
His face brightened as he packed with vigor. We offered warm advice.
“Jung-hyun.”
“Yes?”
“Why bring dumbbells? Planning to battle another team?”
“For strength training...”
“Leave them.”
I smiled warmly.
“Jung-hyun.”
“Yes?”
“Those chips are too salty; they’ll make your face puffy on camera. Ditch them. And that drink’s all sugar.”
“...Yes.”
The maknae joined in.
“Hyung.”
“Yes?”
“That Hoho Chicken towel is mine.”
“Huh? Since when?”
“From the start. Wait, so you’ve been using that as exercise gear all along?”
“Uh...”
With our guidance, Jung-hyun turned his back and packed in earnest. I thought I heard him mutter “Really annoying...” but maybe I imagined it.
“Jung-hyun, eat.”
At Bi-ju’s call, we hopped up.
“Yes! I’m coming!”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Let’s eat!”
I thought I heard “Really annoying...” again. We bounced to the table, but found only one spoon.
“Huh? Where’s our food?”
“Today Jung-hyun’s the star—everyone else will get theirs later.”
We sat miserably as he ate like it was his birthday feast. Eyeing the dishes—eel to oyster pancakes—I asked,
“Bi-ju, where’d you get these recipes?”
“There’s a famous housewife’s blog; it said these restore energy.”
“I see.”
That energy looked questionable, but seeing Jung-hyun savor it happily, I let it go. The maknae’s eyes sparkled as he tilted his head.
“Hyung, what does it taste like? This cute maknae wants a bite too~”
As Jung-hyun clutched his rice bowl pleadingly, Ri-hyeok intervened.
“Hey, Wang Ji-ho. Go eat flea liver. Why do you want what’s for Jung-hyun?”
“Where’s a flea that big?”
While the juniors bickered, Jung-hyun vacuumed down his meal. After such a warm morning, we went into the chilly hallway to send him off.
“Well, I’m off.”
In the elevator, Jung-hyun waved and we waved back.
“Do your best!”
“Don’t get hurt!”
We waved until the doors closed. Bi-ju blew white breaths, worried.
“Why does it feel like leaving a baby by the water? I’m so worried.”
“Don’t worry. Jung-hyun isn’t an idiot.”
“He’ll be fine, right?”
“He’ll do great. I trust him... wait, why is it going up?”
The elevator rose a floor, then came back down, then back up, opening on our floor.
Ding.
Our eyes met Jung-hyun’s and a woman from the floor above, both in the elevator.
“....” freeweɓnøvel.com
“....”
Jung-hyun stood awkward with snacks in both hands, mouth full, then waved,
“Hel-loooo...”
“....”
“I forgot to unpress the down button...”
The woman upstairs bowed deeply, giggling as the doors closed.
“....”
We stared, genuinely worried, at the descending floor numbers.
At the Goyang Indoor Gymnasium the crew bustled checking the site and installing equipment, while fans shivered outside awaiting their idols. In the waiting room the assembled idol singers stood with hands clasped. Before them stood a sturdy man in his thirties.
“Good to see you.”
He was Kang Beom-su, coach of one of the four futsal teams, “Rascals Soccer Class.” Plain-looking, monotone voice—but those looking at him held shining eyes of respect. A 2002 World Cup hero was legend to soccer fans.
Coach Kang held up a paper.
“I heard from production the team lineups changed at the last minute. You haven’t finalized your entries, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then let’s write your positions. Who’s first?”
Each teammate stated their soccer background and preferred position as Coach Kang observed their builds.
“I’m Kim Jung-hyun of New Black.”
The handsome man spoke with a pleasant tone. His physique—broad shoulders, visible muscle—stood out even among idols. Kang internally admired, ‘Wow, this guy should’ve gone into sports if not for the looks.’ Soon Jung-hyun finished and the coach asked,
“You’ve done sports?”
“Yes, I played baseball briefly in elementary school and did a lot of soccer in middle school.”
“Any preferred position?”
At that his words faltered. Coach Kang saw fleeting emotions cross his face. ‘What’s going on?’ Meanwhile, in Jung-hyun’s mind rang a brotherly voice:
A chill ran through him. Jung-hyun gave the safest answer he could.
“I’ll be the goalkeeper.”
“Ooh...!”
Every mouth gaped. Unlike strikers who score or midfielders who run, no one wanted goalkeeper—they’d either shine or be vilified as the team’s weak point. But someone had to step up. Smiles spread. Coach Kang nodded, ‘Not bad.’ With no volunteers and Jung-hyun offering, he immediately wrote “New Black Kim Jung-hyun” under goalkeeper.
‘He’ll do fine.’
It wasn’t pro soccer; this was idols for fun. His only hope was no injuries or own-goals. With that thought, Coach Kang moved on.
The futsal pitch roared to life.
“Woooah!”
Every dribble, every goal, even every hair-swipe from our player drew fierce cheers. After the first semifinal of the four-team bracket, the next teams prepared.
“Now, the second semifinal!”
Announcer Baek Sang-jung turned to comment,
“So many storylines here, right?”
“Yes—last year TNT’s Seon-woong dominated but didn’t make the final. How will it go this year?”
“Look at their faces; they’re hungry.”
Beside him, caster and former player Yeo Hee-yeon echoed as Girls on Top’s Chae-kyung flitted around interviewing captains. At the commentary table Baek asked,
“Hee-yeon, you played soccer—any players to watch?”
“If I were captain, there are several I’d pick. TNT’s Seon-woong has that one lethal strike; Wild Jung excels at defense.”
Analyzing each team coldly, she spoke. The sports caster then asked,
“Hee-yeon, where’s your gaze fixed?”
“That one—he’s someone I’ve been eyeing.”
“Handsome. Let’s see... a rookie, New Black’s Jung-hyun.”
As the caster flipped through a roster with photos, Baek asked,
“Why him?”
“I saw him once on broadcast—he wrestled a black goat.”
“Pardon?”
“He wrestled a giant black goat.”
“....”
“But he won.”
“....”
“He had the best physique I’ve seen in an idol. I’m curious what he’ll do today.”
While the others gaped at “goat” and “wrestling,” Hee-yeon smiled watching the pitch. Once the interviews concluded and formations set, the referee’s whistle blew.
“The match begins—FC Real Dadiz vs. Rascals Soccer Class!”
“Ooh! Driving forward from the start: TNT’s Seon-woong!”
Tin Spirit Yeon-hu tries to block but fails. He’s fast—so fast.”
Soul Six member also fails to defend! He’s a runaway train.”
TNT leader Seon-woong showcased terrifying dribbling, feinting with light skill yet racing forward like a springboard.
“Woooah!”
As casters gushed, fans in the stands roared too—“Oppa!” could be heard. Yet amidst it all, Seon-woong judged coolly.
‘No offsides in futsal.’
His mind clicked. Scanning defenders’ runs and teammates’ positions, he thought, ‘I’ll go myself.’ With no passing angle, he dribbled solo to the goal. Then he saw a familiar face—bear-like calm, wearing “New Black Jung-hyun.” But that didn’t matter.
Tap!
Seon-woong flicked the ball to bypass a defender and powered for a shot. The satisfying contact sent the ball sailing.
“Huff... huff...”
In that breath, he clenched his fist.
‘It’s in!’
In soccer you sometimes just know—it’s perfect and you can’t miss. Teammates began to ready celebrations; the crowd cheered and gasped.
‘It’s in.’
He turned to smile at a teammate—when Jung-hyun slid in smoothly like a beetle, raising one calm glove.
Pop!
The shot bounced off Jung-hyun’s gloved palm. He’d struck powerfully, yet the ball bounced back like it was pleading, “Ow!”
“...!”
Seon-woong darted after and shot again.
‘It’s in!’
But again—
Pop!
A second glove calmly deflected.
‘Again?’
Out of breath, Seon-woong battled and shot a third time. But yet again—
Pop!
The serene bear-face and raised glove blurred into a deity deflecting every strike.
“....”
Frozen, Seon-woong watched as TNT fans sighed, “Why can’t he score?” while teammates patted him on the back. Meanwhile, Rascals teammates gave Jung-hyun thumbs-up. The keeper turned to the stands and flashed a peace sign.
“What’s he doing?”
To the opposing team.
“Woohoo!”
“...?”
“Jung-hyun, that’s our team side!”
“This way! The other way!”
“Oh.”
He blinked, realized, and waved correctly.
Seon-woong, still gasping, blinked as Jung-hyun discovered him and smiled.
“Thank you, sunbaenim.”
“...?”
“For those shots—I was so nervous, shaking.”
“...?”
“Thank you for watching out.”
“...?”
He couldn’t bring himself to say he wasn’t watching out—he «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» was just playing keeper.
