ASR 6

Chapter 006

Kim Jin-sol couldn’t help but feel flustered by a situation he was experiencing for the first time in his thirteen years of life.

Among middle school students in Yeongdeungpo District, Kim Jin-sol was known as one of the best fighters.

He was one of the so-called Four Kings—the four toughest kids among the middle schoolers in Yeongdeungpo.

On top of that, he was good at football and other sports as well, so there was practically nowhere he went where people treated him casually.

Iron FC was no exception.

And yet, right in front of him—

“I’m saying, let’s get along, Jin-sol.”

A kid who was a whole school year below him was holding out his hand and waving it around.

What kind of nerve does this little bastard have?

Was he acting tough because he trusted his grandfather?

Kim Jin-sol silently stared at Johan, who was sitting beside him.

Fuck, why is he so damn handsome?

Johan was handsome enough to make even another guy go, Wow.

Considering what his grandfather looked like, Jin-sol couldn’t have imagined someone with a face like that. Rather than football, he looked like he should be a model or an idol.

But his eyes were too clear.

So clear that they almost seemed to be glowing.

Is he one of those clear-eyed psychos?

Something an older acquaintance had once told him came to mind.

“Hey, I know you can fight and all, but don’t mess with those clear-eyed lunatics. They’re a pain in the ass. Those guys get hit once, run and snitch, and turn a small thing into a huge problem.”

The guy was two years older than him and had gotten into far more fights, playing the role of a delinquent leader. He had shared that information as though it were genuinely useful advice.

And this situation felt exactly like that.

I feel like I’ll be fucked if I mess with him.

If he caused trouble for no reason and the coach found out, it would become a headache.

Kim Jin-sol deliberately ignored Johan and turned away to prepare for the match.

“Hey, why are you ignoring me? Are you any good at scoring goals?”

Johan’s voice made Jin-sol flinch.

He was a striker.

But Kim Jin-sol wasn’t good at scoring.

In the Seoul Western League held last year, he had scored only four goals.

So how had he managed to get into Seoul United’s youth system?

“I’m—I’m not that kind of striker. I’m a link-up forward. I’m good at assisting.”

Johan tilted his head.

“What kind of striker is that? A striker is supposed to score goals.”

“You little—”

Jin-sol was just about to snap and swear at him when—

“Alright, everyone, focus!”

Choi Cheol-gyu’s voice cut him off.

Johan, annoyingly enough, was smiling innocently with those crystal-clear eyes.

It was such an unfairly charming smile that Jin-sol felt even worse.

He turned his attention toward Choi Cheol-gyu.

Focus. We’re playing Singil World.

Iron FC’s players had a stronger sense of rivalry toward Singil World Academy than one might expect.

In truth, that was exactly what Choi Cheol-gyu had intended.

Rather than raising delicate flowers in a greenhouse, he wanted his players to develop competitiveness and fighting spirit.

“Alright. Our opponent today is Singil World Academy. You all know we absolutely cannot lose to them, right? That doesn’t mean you should commit rough fouls or get yourselves injured. Play fair and give it everything you’ve got. Understand?”

“Yes!!”

The starting players answered loudly and stepped onto the field.

“They’re Germany.”

Back when Johan Cruyff led the Netherlands, one could say their greatest rival was Germany, led by Beckenbauer.

The rivalry might have faded nowadays, but back then, the two giants who dominated European football had been rivals in every sense of the word.

And now, these two rival academies happened to be wearing the colors of those old rivals.

Orange for us.

Germany’s colors for them.

I wondered whether their coach even knew.

Anyway…

‘Does their team have any talented players?’

At my question, the angel made a sniffing sound despite not even having a nose.

So he smelled talent rather than seeing it?

[They’re slightly better than your team.]

‘Really?’

They said quantity mattered, and apparently this was why.

A place that accepted huge numbers of players was bound to have some genuinely talented kids mixed in.

[But the difference isn’t large enough to be obvious. What’s important is that our coach is far superior.]

He could tell how good coaches were too?

Well, coaching was part of football, so I supposed the Angel of Football could judge that as well.

[Still, you should be careful of that child.]

‘Who?’

[The one wearing number nine on their team.]

I looked around for number nine.

There he was.

The name Park Yu-chan was printed in Korean above the number on his back.

Park Yu-chan was taller than our Kim Jin-sol by at least half a head.

Unlike Jin-sol, who had a sturdy build, Yu-chan was rather slim.

Looking at him, he seemed like the type who should be an idol rather than an athlete.

[Are you really one to say that about someone else?]

Ah.

Fair enough.

Anyway, what was so special about him?

[He has a very strong scent of goals. A scent of goals.]

Was he seriously judging talent by smell rather than sight?

[I don’t have a nose.]

Then stop making sniffing noises and talking about the smell of goals.

[Anyway, watch him carefully. That guy’s scent of goals is extraordinary.]

I wasn’t sure why I needed to pay such close attention to a player on the opposing team.

Still, I was curious.

I wanted to see whether the angel’s ability was real.

So this was the real test.

Was Kim Jin-sol really a striker with terrible finishing?

Or was Park Yu-chan really someone with an instinct for goals?

[The match has started.]

It had.

Since it was only a practice match, I thought the coaches would act as referees.

But they’d actually brought in an official referee.

With the referee watching, World Best Academy took possession and began advancing the ball.

Our team dropped deeper and waited for them.

‘Oh.’

Even from that position, our team pressed the opposition in a fairly organized manner.

The most active player was Kim Jin-sol, standing at the front.

In modern football, strikers didn’t just attack like they used to.

They had to defend too.

There were few situations more effective than winning the ball through aggressive pressing in the opponent’s half and immediately launching an attack.

Unless a forward possessed overwhelming finishing ability, one who refused to contribute defensively couldn’t survive.

As far as I remembered, the only players managers would tolerate not defending were Messi and Ronaldo.

From that perspective, Kim Jin-sol was exactly the kind of striker modern football loved.

And he wasn’t merely running around enthusiastically either.

“He’s pretty good?”

He was genuinely good at defending.

He prevented the opposition from playing forward passes, forcing them to move the ball backward or into harmless areas.

Was it something he had learned?

Or was it innate?

[His field of vision is broad. That’s not something he learned or trained. He was born with it.]

Right.

His vision was excellent.

Wide vision was important for every footballer, but its importance increased the farther back you played.

For a striker, quick decision-making and finishing were generally more important than having an exceptionally broad field of vision.

Our Jin-sol used his wide vision to effectively shut down forward passes, and his defensive positioning was excellent too.

“Ooh.”

Then came the decisive moment.

An opposing player received the ball slightly deeper and attempted a long pass.

Jin-sol read it perfectly and intercepted it.

At that moment, our two wingers sprinted forward.

After quickly scanning his surroundings, Jin-sol passed the ball out wide.

The pass itself was quite good, but his reaction had been slightly slow.

‘That’s something he’s doing exactly as he’s been trained.’

It was movement dictated by the team’s tactics.

Then again, how many players his age could independently judge every situation and instinctively choose the right pass?

Still, looking at him now…

[You think he’d perform better in another position than as a striker, don’t you?]

Exactly.

Like you said, he seemed much better suited to playing in midfield.

I glanced at Grandpa.

But why was Grandpa using a player like that as a striker instead of putting him in midfield?

[Because he’s fast?]

I watched Jin-sol again.

He certainly was quick.

But there were plenty of fast midfielders and center-backs in modern football.

[Then there are two possibilities.]

What were they?

[Either the team needs his high pressing at the front, or there simply isn’t another player in your team as good as him.]

Ah.

That was probably it.

From what I could see, the second explanation seemed more likely.

Even if he couldn’t score, perhaps they couldn’t move him back because his link-up play at the front was so useful.

Or maybe Jin-sol himself desperately wanted to play as a striker.

[Oh!]

What?

I followed the angel’s sudden exclamation.

Our winger had beaten a defender and then slipped the ball toward Jin-sol, who had arrived late and made a run into open space.

The goalkeeper had shifted toward the winger to cover him, leaving nearly half the goal exposed.

All Jin-sol had to do was stick out his foot and redirect the ball.

That was it.

“Ah…!”

[As expected.]

Jin-sol somehow failed to do even that.

Getting his foot to the ball had been fine.

But he sent it soaring high into the sky.

“A perfect triangle-footed striker…!”

His finishing was so terrible that it was almost impressive.

I couldn’t have produced a mistake like that even if I had tried.

Over the next five minutes, our team continued pressing the opposition through an organized tactical system and created two more scoring opportunities.

Jin-sol wasted both of them.

Of course, players could make mistakes.

Sometimes an opposing goalkeeper made an incredible save.

But based on my many years of experience as a player, these weren’t cases of bad luck.

The problem was Jin-sol’s finishing.

Then the situation suddenly reversed.

Following one of Jin-sol’s mistakes, the opposing goalkeeper collected the ball and launched a counterattack.

A midfielder ran diligently to meet the advancing ball.

One of our players stepped up to block him, but the opponent beat him with a flip-flap.

[His dribbling skills are quite natural.]

Kids these days were ridiculously good at tricks.

This was exactly the age when flashy individual skills looked coolest.

Rather than listening to a coach’s old-fashioned training drills and tactical lectures, kids would search for videos of famous players performing tricks and try to imitate them.

You couldn’t do that so easily in professional football.

If you could beat everyone with individual skill in the pros, you belonged in Europe.

And if you could do it in Europe too, you became world-class.

But at this age, getting beaten by something like that was enough to destroy an opponent’s confidence.

Youth football was a battle of mentality.

Fortunately, our team didn’t seem to be affected.

Maybe it was because of Grandpa’s coaching, but even though the midfielder shielding them had been beaten easily, our defenders maintained their positions and stayed focused.

Then the opposing midfielder slipped a pass forward.

Why?

[Park Yu-chan!]

Park Yu-chan, who had been almost invisible throughout the attack, suddenly appeared in an unexpected position and received the ball.

He had hidden outside the defenders’ field of vision before suddenly emerging.

There were no defenders left who could stop him.

His dribbling looked a little awkward, though.

This wasn’t like my own chaotic, bulldozing dribbling style.

No, he genuinely looked like someone who wasn’t very good at controlling the ball.

But Park Yu-chan—

“WAAAAAH!”

The roar from the opposing side told the story.

Despite his awkward control, he somehow turned the chance into a goal.

[No matter how much modern football demands from a striker, a striker is ultimately judged by goals.]

The angel was right.

You could dribble brilliantly, link up perfectly, and defend tirelessly all day long.

But a striker who couldn’t score goals wouldn’t get attention.

And that was even more true in youth football.

If a scout had been watching this match, he would take Park Yu-chan over Kim Jin-sol as a forward.

I was proof of that myself.

I had been crude and clumsy, but I scored goals.

That was why I had eventually made it to one of Europe’s biggest clubs.

Which meant…

[Unless Kim Jin-sol changes positions, he won’t be able to progress any further.]

Exactly.

If he played for another team, it wouldn’t be my problem.

But he was on my team.

The more talented players we had, the better.

For that reason, I did need to help him.

[And if you look further into the future, he may have enough talent to be useful even when you eventually play for the national team.]

I looked at the angel in surprise.

“Is he really that good?”

[There’s a margin of error, but yes. Especially considering how valuable a player in the midfield anchor role is for Korea.]

That was true.

If he had that much potential, it was worth trying to convince him to move into midfield somehow.

First, though…

I needed to become friends with him.

Pweeeeeee!

The whistle blew, ending the first half.

Kim Jin-sol wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at the scoreboard.

2–0.

They had conceded two goals.

While he had wasted five chances, the opposing striker, Park Yu-chan, had converted both of his shots.

‘Is he a monster…?’

He looked awkward, yet somehow, he always found a way to score.

The world was truly unfair.

Why can’t I score?

Feeling miserable, Jin-sol returned to the stands.

Someone slowly approached him.

He tensed, thinking it might be the coach.

But then he saw Johan’s handsome face directly in front of him.

Startled, he looked up.

Johan spoke.

“You really can’t score, can you?”

“…Don’t start shit and just leave.”

“I’m not trying to start anything. From what I can see, I don’t think you’re a striker.”

“You’re hardly in a position to say something like that.”

Jin-sol snapped back.

Johan looked down at him with a mysterious smile and those absurdly clear eyes.

“Really? I think I’m better than you. I’ll probably score better than you too.”

“Bullshit.”

Johan simply smiled.

Then, with those innocent eyes, he said,

“What if I play for just ten minutes in the second half and score more goals than you?”

“So what?”

“Then you give me the striker position, and you move to midfield. How about it?”

What the hell is wrong with this kid?

He wanted Jin-sol to change positions?

Who did he think he was?

But Johan’s next words made it impossible for Jin-sol to remain calm and rational.

“Scared?”

“…You think I’m scared? Fine. Let’s bet. Let’s do it!!”

Jin-sol shouted and jumped to his feet.

[…Didn’t you say you were going to become friends with him?]

Watching Kim Jin-sol get scolded by Choi Cheol-gyu, Johan grinned.

“I’m pretty sociable, aren’t I?”

[…I think you spent your entire previous life fighting, so you’re just bad at making friends.]

“Friends at this age are made by fighting. You pick fights, argue, get talking, and before you know it, you’re friends. See? This is all part of the build-up.”

[Well… wasn’t your childhood in your previous life rather abnormal?]

“…Well, except for the part where I didn’t have parents, wasn’t it basically the same?”

The angel didn’t continue speaking.