Free Web NovelThirty seconds into the first half.
Right after the start, TNT’s Gu Seon-woong’s shot—poised to score—was miraculously saved by some goalkeeper’s insane reflex, and now play had resumed.
“Hey! Hey hey hey! What are you doing out there? Get back! Get back!”
“Block it!”
“Pass! Pass!”
Fans in the stands cheered; the idol members on the pitch shouted instructions. The atmosphere was electric.
Coach Kang Beom-su in the dugout was no different.
“Block it! Blo... haa...”
He yelled, then ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
“The defense is a mess.”
At this point, it was as if they’d thrown open the gates and yelled, “Please, just let us score!” They were working hard, but the opponent’s attacks were too powerful to stop by effort alone.
“Hey! Hey...”
The defense was breached again. Fortunately, Jung “Wild” of Wild managed to halt the crisis by stepping in as the lone effective defender.
Coach Kang drew a deep breath.
“Phew...”
Cold sweat beaded on his palms.
“At this rate, we’re doomed.”
Though the keeper was lucky with that early save, one man’s heroics can only go so far. The goal is the last barrier. Before that, defenders must intercept passes or clear the ball. Everybody knows a one-on-one between striker and keeper favors the shooter.
But then he saw something strange.
“What... what the...?”
Opposing striker Gu Seon-woong dribbled past the defense again and unleashed a cannon-like mid-range shot. “Puh-eong!” The shot was so powerful even our defenders ducked to avoid being hit.
Yet Kim Jung-hyun, expression calm as ever, simply raised both hands as if he knew exactly where the ball would arrive.
“Isn’t he going to dislocate his wrists doing that?”
Just as Coach Kang was about to shout, the ball tapped against Jung-hyun’s gloves—“Chop!”—and nestled perfectly between them.
“......”
The crowd, commentators, crew, the idol players—all blinked. Gu Seon-woong himself looked incredulous.
“Woaah!”
Our fans erupted in cheers, but Jung-hyun merely toyed with the ball, face serene.
Coach Kang rubbed his eyes. How had he timed his hands so perfectly? No matter how often he watched, it was astonishing athleticism.
His heart pounded.
“He should’ve gone into sports...”
Football veteran of twenty-two years, Kang Beom-su had discovered a gem on this variety show. That this gem was an idol was odd—but...
The first half ended and the second began.
As if to avenge the early onslaught, Rascals Soccer Class launched a counterattack. But spectators’ attention remained fixed elsewhere.
“Puh-eong!” “Chop!” “...”
“Puh-eeong!” “Chop.”
Flick, deflect, cradle. Sometimes with a flick of his foot—just to show it was optional—Jung-hyun sent the ball away. FC Real Dadiz’s strikers fired shot after shot, but Jung-hyun conceded not a single goal.
The commentary box erupted in praise.
“Wow—he truly is a wall of lamentations. New Black’s Jung-hyun simply won’t concede.”
“The keeper’s hard-carrying the team. Insane physicality. At this rate the ball must hurt him more than anyone.”
“The opponents’ faces are stiffening by the second.”
True to the words, Real Dadiz’s players, minds blown, kept launching meaningless shots. Coach Kang wanted to curse inside.
“No way.”
Gu Seon-woong swallowed tears.
“Why won’t it go in? Why! Why!”
Last year’s MVP and top scorer of the Dollympic futsal, this should’ve been easy. But not today. Every time he dribbled in and Jung-hyun raised a calm paw to block, his tears piled up.
The rest of Real Dadiz felt the same.
“Shooting at a concrete wall.”
“Come on, just let one in out of courtesy!”
“Yal-li yal-li yal-rya-syeong... eh-hera.”
As the frustration mounted, the Rascals found joy.
“Shot! Goal! Finally, Rascals Soccer Class score first!”
“Woooah!”
Wild’s Jung-gun hugged teammates and bounced with delight. Then they all ran toward the keeper.
“Wooah!”
Linking arms with the bemused keeper, they all cheered together. It was natural: with a keeper like that, defenders and attackers alike could play free of worry.
Soon cameras captured Jung-hyun’s serene smile as he joined in.
“Thank you!”
“Our keeper is supreme!”
“Want to grab meat after this? My treat.”
After the team’s group cheer, momentum shifted firmly in Rascals’ favor. The scoreboard read 1–0. Real Dadiz pressed desperately, but their keeper proved an impregnable fortress.
“Aaaaah!”
Every time Real Dadiz shot and clutched their heads in anguish, Rascals smiled in satisfaction.
“Winning isn’t the point—it’s pissing off the opponents!”
All our faces lit with smug grins. TNT’s Yeon-hu was among them.
“Incredible. That guy.”
How could someone move like that? From his solid build to his nonchalant saves, everything about him was cool. We’d known of New Black before—award stages, rescuing events when other groups were late—but never knew they had a character like this.
“Amazing.”
I watched quietly near Jung-hyun as he doffed his gloves and wiped his brow.
“What’s he doing now?”
Clutching the ball, he muttered to himself as if preparing a goal kick. Yeon-hu leaned in.
“......hmm.”
His face was deadly serious.
“If I squeeze this too hard will it burst?”
“.......”
“If it bursts, Woo-joo hyung will get mad at me, right?”
“.......”
“No no no.”
He nodded and re-gloved.
“Still, I can try this, right?”
Try what? Watching from the defensive line, we wondered. Soon Jung-hyun knit his brows like a pro before a match. ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) His brown eyes scanned the pitch swiftly.
He adjusted his breathing, dropped the ball, stepped back a few paces, then sprinted in and kicked at it in an instant.
“Puh-eeong!”
Yeon-hu leapt aside in shock.
“Whoa, damn it!”
The ball whizzed past like a bullet.
“Is he firing missiles now...?”
Living in a different league, Jung-hyun shaded his eyes with his hand and tracked the ball’s flight. Every person there craned their necks to follow its arc.
“No way that—”
In unison, hearts racing, they realized:
“Shuahk!”
FC Real Dadiz’s keeper, Daydream’s Andrew, flailed, and the ball slipped through his grasp and into the net.
“......”
Silence fell even in the broadcast box.
“......?”
One person alone muttered to himself, a satisfied rub of his nose.
“Oh, it really went in.”
Nearby, Yeon-hu nodded. That goal kick was so sublime it cured any teenage angst.
“I will never mess with that guy.”
With that, the stands erupted again.
“Woooah!”
“Goal! Goal!”
“Look at Coach Kang—he’s in tears!”
A close-up on the jumbotron showed someone rubbing their nose in contentment after the goal. That moment became one of the all-time great Dollympic highlights in the 2015 Lunar New Year special.
All day long, I was anxious. Like leaving a baby by the water. In the practice room or the cafeteria, I gripped my phone, desperate for updates. I’d asked Hyung-nim Mingi, who went with him, to text me commentary, but he’d been silent.
Mingi [Arrived at Goyang Gym]
Mingi [Will text later]
I sighed.
“Why am I so nervous?”
“Right? Hyung, I’m worried he might cause some chaos.”
“What chaos could Jung-hyun possibly cause?”
I and the others answered the maknae’s innocent query in turn.
“What if he body-checks an opponent and sends them flying? They say TNT’s Seon-woong is playing—if Jung-hyun sends him flying, a million anti-fans right there.”
“He’d be out for four weeks on a glancing hit.”
“Jung-hyun’s weaponized from head to toe, Ji-ho.”
Of course we worried about injury, but that was the usual concern. Our kid wouldn’t get knocked out—if anyone ended up in the hospital it’d be the other guy.
“...Hmm, you’re right.”
Ji-ho nodded in agreement. As we fretted over what he might be up to, texts suddenly poured in.
Mingi [Jung-hyun saved shot]
Mingi [He saved it]
Mingi [He really saved that]
Mingi [Again]
Mingi [Wow he saved it again]
Each arriving after intervals, we stared in disbelief. At first it sounded like lighthearted futsal updates, but the content grew stranger.
Mingi [He scored a goal with a goal kick]
Mingi [Opponents in meltdown]
Mingi [Won first match 2–0]
And that was just the start of the odd texts.
Mingi [Won final 1–0]
Mingi [Coach holding Jung-hyun’s hand, crying]
Mingi [Said he’s a talent football needs but too late a discovery]
Mingi [Oh]
Mingi [Jung-hyun won MVP]
Mingi [A Tin Spirit fan got his autograph on the ball]
We blinked.
“...What on earth is he doing?”
All day, these inexplicable texts filled us with curiosity and bemusement. By evening, at a diner near the company, One-seok hyung, having heard the whole story, laughed.
“Now you understand how we feel.”
“Huh?”
“We get the same—even in Taiwan, at live shoots texts come in and something’s always happening.”
“......”
“It’s normal.”
Our manager, wearing an understanding expression, avoided answering as he slurped his knife-cut noodles. We felt unjustly painted as reckless troublemakers.
The next morning, we arrived at Goyang Gym at 6 AM. We’d just enough time—three or four hours of sleep—after stopping by the salon for makeup. Groggy, we reached the waiting room.
I hunched on the sofa.
“Our Soufflés must be freezing.”
“It’s so cold. Making them wait outside seems harsh.”
“Bah, don’t mind it.”
On the drive over we’d passed long lines—too dark to see which fan clubs, but seeing them made my heart ache. I remembered back in elementary school, when Grandma Deok-soon left at dawn to sell food—huddled under the heated mat, I felt so sorry. I wondered why I had to endure that too.
I blew my icy nose and shook a mini hand warmer.
We had to give them a performance worth braving the cold.
Just then, awaiting our call after changing, the door clicked open.
“Who... huh?”
At the figure who entered, we all jumped up. The managers did too.
In an old coat, steam rising from his head, stood a familiar man.
“Company president?”
“Been a while.”
He smiled—a friendly, balding man, our CEO Park Gyu-ho. As managers like Seok-hwan bowed politely, we wore stunned looks.
“President, what brings you here?”
“Oh, I was asked to attend. I’ll catch the opening ceremony and a few matches.”
Sure enough, today’s Dollympic opening ceremony would be attended by company heads.
...That’s a bit nerve-wracking. Friendly or kind as he was, having the CEO nearby weighed on us—like a division commander who says “Buddy buddy” but remains commander. And today President Park seemed especially tense.
“So, how’s the prep going, Woo-joo?” freeweɓnovel.cѳm
“Ah, yes.”
“Specifically...?”
“Sorry?”
“I mean, how’s each event prep going?”
Our CEO usually only cared about big matters, not details—but now he asked us anxiously. I replied,
“We’ve been training hard at the archery range you arranged. Ri-hyok’s been doing mindset drills like running from thieves since morning. I’m reviewing basketball videos.”
“I see... hmm...” freёwebnoѵel.com
President Park asked,
“How confident are you today... no, no, the important thing is avoiding injury. Yes. Your health comes first.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Health is top priority. Mm. That’s right.”
At that, something flashed through my mind—one online comment I’d seen long ago:
Suddenly I recalled the rivalry between our company and DNS Media. I’d forgotten since we’d been so friendly with Street Boys. But I remembered: our CEO and that CEO were mortal enemies. Imagining them clashing at today’s ceremony made me wince.
As President Park warned us not to get hurt, I smiled and said,
“We’ll do our best.”
“All right.”
He chuckled and patted each of our shoulders as he left the waiting room. Then the maknae piped up.
“But, President...”
“Yes?”
“If we do really well today—beat DNS, bring home the trophy—what will you do for us?”
The maknae’s playful question drew a hearty laugh from President Park.
“Of course I’ll do anything you want. Tell me. I’ll stake my name on it—really.”
“In that case, we’d like some delicious meals....”
“Food’s a given. Something more?”
He shook his head.
“I heard you need new composing equipment? The A&R head mentioned it.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’ll buy it. Whatever it costs.”
“Oooh...”
His generosity moved me. Since visiting Director Jo Gyu-hwan’s home, I’d felt we needed upgrades—but I never expected this. Though... I wasn’t sure he knew the price. If he did, he wouldn’t be so carefree.
As President Park laughed, Seok-hwan hyung tried to interject.
“Um...”
“Shh.”
I grasped our manager’s hand and smiled brightly, as if greeting a guest.
“President.”
“Yes?”
“We’ll work hard.”
I bowed and President Park laughed once more.
“I’m winning the trophy today.”
“You said don’t get hurt.”
“I’ll win unhurt.”
“H-he’s so fired up, Woo-joo hyung.”
My resolute face made the juniors edge away.
“Where are you going?”
I grabbed Ri-hyok’s arm and wrapped it around his neck.
“Let go of me.”
“You run the 60 meters with all your might, Ri-hyok.”
“Aaaargh. Hate it so much.”
“I don’t mind if you hate it—just win.”
I nodded encouragement as we strolled down the corridor, greeting those emerging from other waiting rooms.
“Hello!”
“Hello!”
We exchanged informal bows on the way to the arena—when we encountered familiar faces.
“Oh? Tin Spirit seniors!”
At Ji-ho’s whisper, we looked up. Tin Spirit strode out near us with swagger. As they greeted us, we too said,
“Hello, seniors.”
“Hi.”
As usual they returned the greeting. But when Yeon-hu approached Jung-hyun, he paused and bowed.
“...?”
We blinked, then Jung-hyun said,
“Good morning, hyung-nim.”
“...?”
“See you later.”
He offered a polite greeting and moved on. We blinked and looked at Jung-hyun.
“...?”
What just happened?
