Being able to witness the sight of the people he once admired, Yang felt as though he were trapped in a dream. Yet, he couldn’t reveal the excitement on his face. He couldn’t make it obvious.
So he continued to stare from afar, his expression carefully neutral.
Then, his expression shifted as a familiar face emerged onto the field.
’You’re here.’
His brows furrowed.
At the same moment, the stadium exploded with a deafening roar that stole his attention. He looked toward the stands, at the roaring crowd and the pulsating stadium. The entire atmosphere had transformed with his appearance.
’So, this is the kind of person you’ve become.’
He couldn’t help but feel mesmerized.
Unlike the excited faces around him, Hiro wore an expression of calm. Almost detached. He didn’t even seem bothered by the thousands cheering his name. He moved with such nonchalance that he appeared untouchable.
"Yang, snap out of it."
The voice cut through his trance. He shook his head, disoriented, and turned to find one of his teammates staring at him with a concerned expression.
Without realizing it, he had been zoning out. The voice had pulled him back from the edge of his own mind.
"Um. Yes." He mumbled, still gathering himself.
"I don’t know what kind of past you have with the opposing number ten." The teammate’s tone was firm but not unkind. "But focus on the game for now."
Yang blinked. "How’d you know I’m involved with him?"
He hadn’t said a single word about their previous encounter to anyone on the team. The question slipped out before he could stop it.
His teammate, however, brushed it off with a knowing look.
"It’s obvious in your face." He shrugged. "You’ve been staring at him like you haven’t seen him in a long time."
Yang’s jaw tightened.
Was it that obvious?
He glanced back toward Hiro, who was now jogging lightly across the pitch, oblivious to the weight of Yang’s gaze.
’Focus.’
The word echoed in his mind.
’Focus on the game.’
He forced himself to look away, rolling his shoulders, shaking the tension from his limbs.
"This isn’t the time to be zoning out."
He muttered to himself, forcing his attention elsewhere.
But after a while, something piqued his interest once again.
Hiro stood before the goal, warming up his shots. The opposing keeper—Unai Simón had a fierce look on his face, almost as if he were taking these practice shots seriously.
Yang couldn’t see Hiro’s face; it was turned away from him.
But he could see his back.
Back then, though it had been defined, it hadn’t been as massive as the back he was witnessing now. Hiro wasn’t jacked, not bulky in the traditional sense, but Yang could tell he had been working relentlessly. The breadth of his shoulders, the sculpted lines of his frame, spoke of countless hours in the gym.
’He’s transformed.’
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The sound echoed across the pitch as Hiro netted five shots in a row, each one finding the top corner with surgical precision.
Yang’s gaze toggled between the keeper and Hiro, disbelief creeping into his expression.
Had he been underestimating this person?
Moments ago, he had been full of might, brimming with confidence, ready to prove himself. But now? Doubt surfaced in his mind like a cold tide.
Could he even stop this person?
The keeper Hiro was scoring against wasn’t some unknown amateur. He was Unai Simón—the man who had won the Golden Glove in the previous World Cup. A keeper who had proven himself on the grandest stage of football.
And yet, right now, that same keeper was struggling to record a single save against a kid just a few years older than Yang.
He knew Hiro had grown.
He just hadn’t realized how much.
The gap between them yawned wide, a lot wider than he had ever imagined.
And for the first time in a long while, Yang felt something cold settle in his chest. This feeling wasn’t new to him.
He had felt it before as well.
Fear.
He was certain of it. That cold, sinking weight in his chest was fear.
He looked at his hands, frowning. They weren’t shaking. Yet, staring at them, he felt a certain helplessness creep into his bones.
’Can I stop him?’
Once again, the same doubt festered.
Then something ignited within him. His fist clenched tight, knuckles whitening.
’No. I must stop him. This is where I establish myself. He might have grown, but so have I.’
Determination flared past his pupils as he averted his gaze from Hiro. He turned away, forcing himself to focus on the task ahead.
Just at that moment, Hiro turned to find him. He caught sight of Yang’s departing figure. Had Yang turned a moment earlier, their gazes would have met.
But Hiro couldn’t care less about that.
’Yang Min-hyeok...’
Hiro’s brow furrowed.
He wasn’t a prominent figure back then. What changed?
In his previous life, unlike most other names he had heard, Yang hadn’t been someone famous. He hadn’t even heard of him.
Yet here he was—sharing the same pitch.
"Did the future change?"
The doubt had been growing, and the more he pieced the puzzle together, the more it seemed like the case. His interference had altered something—ripples spreading across the surface of time.
"What was it called? Butterfly effect? Something like that?"
Hiro was certain now. He was the one responsible for these changes. He had doubted it before, but now it made sense.
The future had shifted.
"Well, I guess there’s no point mulling over it."
A faint curiosity flickered in his chest.
"But I wonder... who’s the fastest among us?"
He had seen Yang’s footage. His speed had left him captivated. Just like Hiro, Yang was known for his acceleration. The thought of a contest between them intrigued him.
"Well, I guess he’d outrun me if we dash for a long distance."
Just then, while he was pondering—
[Ding!]
A buzz rang in his head.
[The target has a duplicable skill. Would you like to proceed?]
Hiro’s eyes widened.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter