46 — Korea Football Association
The air in the quiet office of the Korea Football Association smelled like leather, wood polish, and fresh-brewed tea. A hint of cologne lingered, probably belonging to some assistant that came by to leave documents or send a report.
The Head of Youth Development, Manager Choi Min-hyuk was sitting at a mahogany desk. The plush leather chair creaked softly as he leaned forward, sipping his hot coffee and staring at the projection on the wall; he wasn't the only one.
On it was a freeze-frame of a fifteen-year-old boy, mid-stride, the ball rolling underfoot, a bright red number nine shining on the back of his jersey.
Cha Jae-il.
"He's the one, huh?" Choi said, his voice a low rumble that filled the room. He didn't need to elaborate. Everyone present knew what 'the one' meant.
His subordinate, a younger, more data-driven analyst named Kim, cleared his throat. "Sir, with all due respect, his psychological profile is… an outlier. He shows almost no pre-match anxiety. His heart rate barely elevates after scoring. He's preternaturally calm. Some might call it detachment."
"Self-possession." Choi said. "The boy is a genius at his game. Look at him."
He stood up and pointed at the screen, his tone suddenly brusque. "Jae-il is the kind of athlete we don't see much of anymore." He gestured to another screen showing analytics. "Look at his decision-making tree. It's almost perfect. He doesn't choose the flashy option; he chooses the correct option, every single time. We haven't had a striker with that kind of cold, clinical intelligence since… well, ever."
The Secretary General, Seo Jin-woo, at the head of the table, stayed quiet and merely watched.
Kim was still hesitant. "And the team chemistry? He's fifteen. The U-17 squad is full of seventeen-year-olds who've been fighting for these spots their whole lives. They're not going to welcome a kid, no matter how good, with open arms."
That was one of the reasons why they had reconvened despite already notifying each scouted player of their recruitment into the Korean U-17 national football team for the upcoming World Cup. Before that, they had to climb through the quarter-finals of the AFC Asian Cup.
On the same vein, the problem with Cha Jae-il stemmed from outraged voices demanding for a replacement in his place for various reasons, such as age or inexperience, or even that his talent, as prodigal and incredible as it was, could lead to an imbalance in the overall team cohesion.
Not only that, there were claims that such a late addition to the team would cause the team's chemistry to crumble to the very foundations.
Some said that it was still too early. Let the boy train and grow before throwing him onto the field.
Others whispered that it was the perfect time to seize on his momentum and ride it through.
Some said, you couldn't put a fifteen-year-old under the pressure of the international stage.
Some joked, the only pressure Cha Jae-il seemed capable of feeling was low blood pressure.
The truth was, no one was quite sure what to make of him, whether to fear or worship him, but everyone felt the weight of their own history pressing against their shoulders like an anchor.
Min-hyuk was aware that Cha Jae-il was an anomaly. There was no precedent, no protocol for dealing with a fifteen-year-old prodigy. No one could predict how the boy would perform when his moment came.
Choi was a pragmatic man, but he had learned that in life, in work, in everything, sometimes you had to take a leap, even if you weren't entirely sure of the landing.
"They won't have a choice." Choi said flatly. "Once they see him on the training pitch, they will have two options: get in line or get left behind. We're not building a friendship club. We're building a team to win a World Cup." He paused, his gaze returning to the image of Jae-il. "We have technicians. We have workhorses. We have leaders. But we lack a killer. A true, world-class finisher who can turn a half-chance into a goal and silence a stadium of eighty thousand. That boy… he is a killer."
Everyone around the table murmured among themselves, but Choi wasn't done yet.
He tapped a name on the projected squad list. Kim Jun-hwan. "Jun-hwan will be his foil. He has the vision and the engine, but he lacks that final, ruthless touch. He respects Jae-il, maybe even fears him a little after that U-18 final. That's a good dynamic. We'll build the attack around those two. The others will follow."
Manager Park nodded thoughtfully. She was the most level-headed, a veteran of coaching at a high school level. "That sounds doable." She replied. "I agree that Cha Jae-il has an undeniable talent and charisma that could benefit the rest of the players."
Kim Young-dae, the Lead Technical Analyst, fully agreed with Choi. "The data is all in favor. If Jae-il can't manage, I'm retiring from this position. Trust me, Manager, when I tell you that there's nothing to worry about. The team's composition and its synergy, with Cha included, will increase our performance exponentially. Of course, only if he can manage."
Seo Jin-woo hummed softly. "The media is scrutinizing him, quite closely. If he folds under pressure, the backlash would be quite… catastrophic. You understand, don't you?" His voice was calm and measured, like the tide coming in.
"He won't." Choi's eyes gleamed. "The kid is ice."
A curt nod. Even someone like Seo Jin-woo could see Cha Jae-il's potential and future prospects, but he had to think of the KFA's image as well, on top of the riskiness of the investment. "Then I have nothing else to add." He turned towards Coach Ahn Ki-seok. "You'll be in charge of the training camp."
The man merely nodded. He was as silent and stoic as usual.
"Very well. We are in consensus. Unless the boy falters in the next few training camp sessions, which I highly doubt he will, I believe we have made a great step to create the strongest, and youngest, team in Korea's footballing history." Choi Min-Hyuk declared.
xXx
Jae-il's POV:
"What's... this?" I knew I was in prime condition, physically, in a teenage body run mostly by hormones and bad ideas. But my maturity should've easily made up for that.
Of course I could wake up early in the morning for some reason, at 6.30 AM. And, I would know. The morning wood was the clearest indicator. An even bigger one, the pre-cum stain on my underwear. I tried to push back my embarrassment. It was just biology.
It had just been so long since something like this happened that I had been slightly caught off guard.
My dick twitched, standing straight and tall and hard. I looked down, not entirely happy with the inconvenience of having morning wood, not because I didn't like it—in fact it was one of those reminders of how being a teenager, with its hormonal imbalance and urges, could be both good and annoying—but rather because of the reason of the morning wood itself.
It wasn't because of some erotic, exciting dream.
I wish I could have a clear reason, but I feared that the face that'd appear once I wiped the windshields of my brain free from all the foggy morning sleep was a familiar one.
With a sigh, I got up, went through my usual morning routine, and put the offending underwear in the laundry basket. Hopefully, it'd be a one-time thing. Waking up like this every morning would easily disrupt my focus.
Instead of doing what horny teenagers do, I decided to use that energy to tire myself out with a morning run, followed by a cold shower.
Fortunately, it worked.
As I stepped out of the shower, cold droplets trailing down my naked, toned frame, I felt re-energized and awake. My thoughts were clearer. More organized. And, thankfully, the little man was dormant for once.
I headed down for breakfast, finding everyone else already there, except Yeong Gu, who as usual, had yet to come back from work.
"Good morning, dear." Eun Ha was already setting up the table, helped by Mia, who as soon as saw me, gave me the kind of smile that I preferred ignoring.
"Morning." I replied, sitting beside Su Ah—a safe choice when it came to seating arrangement lately. "You don't look good, stayed up late?" I asked, upon noticing my broody, older sister's lack of energy. Su Ah shook her head, but I could easily tell she was still exhausted and probably hadn't gotten much sleep. She had dark circles under her eyes
"No. I went to bed at my usual time." She replied.
"Her usual time is 4 AM." Mia quipped. Su Ah immediately turned towards her sister, giving her a look.
"What? It's the truth." A shrug. "Don't blame me if you stay up until ungodly hours doing who-knows-what."
Su Ah huffed.
Eun Ha chuckled softly. "You shouldn't stay up so late. You're still a child." She chided her softly, placing down a bowl of soup in front of her daughter.
"Ah, it's nothing, mom. I'll sleep it off in the afternoon." Su Ah waved a hand, dismissively.
I nudged her slightly. "Is it because you were writing?" I inquired.
Su Ah looked surprised for a second, then looked guarded. "I was… I mean, not exactly writing, per say, but yes. Kinda…" She muttered. "Why are you so curious, though? Don't tell me you've been going through my computer." She narrowed her eyes.
"Not at all." I rolled my eyes. "You type loud. I could hear you through the wall. Nonstop typing." And then the sudden pauses that seemed to indicate a struggle with a particular section. It was quite fun to listen to.
Su Ah's face was slightly red. She was clearly embarrassed about having been heard while she wrote. I guess she didn't think about how loud the keyboard's mechanical clicking could be.
"What were you typing? A novel, maybe?"
"......"
What is this mute response? I was just trying to be a supportive brother.
She scratched her cheek, awkwardly yet frustratingly. "Yeah..." I wonder if she had never expected one of us to show interest in her hobby; it made her quite embarrassed but not in a negative sense, I guess. "It's... a story... uh, kinda..." I felt like a priest, hearing confession from the guilty. I just wanted to be nice. Not to dig her grave. "It's a fantasy story with... lots of action... and romance... and stuff." She sighed. "But I'm quite struggling with a scene..."
She seemed even more embarrassed here, as if she had been waiting to vent about her frustrations.
"Which part, specifically?"
"The... the... well..." Su Ah trailed off, blinking, as if she had suddenly realized what she was about to say. She opened and closed her mouth several times, before eventually setting a new record for the fastest speed of turning red. "N-N-Nothing!" She gritted her teeth. "Just eat and mind your business!"
"......?"