6 — The First Goal II

The whistle blew for halftime. Jae-il's coach, a portly man named Mr. Kang who usually spent friendly matches making small talk, approached him with a stunned expression. "Jae-il…" He began, then paused, seemingly lost for words. "Just... keep doing whatever that was."

'This kid…'

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The other boys, who had earlier dismissed him, now gathered around, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The square-jawed boy, whose name was Min-jun, looked particularly sheepish.

Despite being the shortest in the team, everyone surrounded Jae-il as if he were the sun itself. In that brief halftime, the hierarchy in the team had been established.

Even the captain couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Across the small field, the scene in the opposing team's huddle was grim. Their coach's voice, initially loud and instructional, was now resigned, more than anything else.

He gave some half-hearted suggestions, to which was half-heartedly listened to.

The players, who had started the game with confident swagger, now looked deflated, some staring at the ground, others glancing nervously towards the small figure in the number 9 blue shirt.

"He's…" Eun Ha didn't know a whole lot about football—just the basics. Her husband could've definitely shed more knowledge, but even he wasn't that big of a fan. Still, Jae-il's performance was absolutely dominating. "Amazing."

Children playing shouldn't have been this entertaining to watch. After all, it was just a bunch of kids running after a ball, right?

It didn't matter that the pitch was muddy, the goals were slightly lopsided, and the referee, who doubled as a teacher for the white team's private school, might have been a bit biased.

The crowd, mostly parents and a few straggling students who had no other choice, was now paying rapt attention. Even the teachers from both schools, usually disinterested observers, were watching with a certain intensity.

"I've never seen anything like it." Yeong Gu admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and awe.

One of the parents from the other team turned to him. "Is he really only seven years old?"

Yeong Gu nodded, a satisfied grin on his face, his arms crossed over his imposing pot-belly. "Yes. He's a little prodigy."

The opposing parent's face was a mixture of envy and astonishment. "He's... incredible." The man conceded, shaking his head.

The other mothers and fathers, who had initially come to cheer on their own children, were now fixated on Jae-il.

"He's so cute!"

"Look at him go!"

"How does he do that?"

"You must be so proud!"

Yeong Gu basked in the compliments, nodding and smiling at everyone who praised his son. Eun Ha, while not quite as outwardly boastful as her husband, wore a content smile.

Mia and Su Ah, however, were observing the match with different eyes, their reactions a study in contrasts as they listened to the chorus of praise for their younger brother.

Su Ah, who had initially been more engrossed in the patterns on her own fingernails than the game, now had her chin resting on her hand, her gaze fixed on the small, whirling figure of her brother.

The bored frown had vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine surprise. "He's… not terrible." She conceded, her voice low, almost as if speaking to herself. Then, a beat later, addressing her beaming mother. "Mom, did you teach him that spinny thing? Or did he just… learn it from a cartoon?" It was a typical Su Ah question, a blend of curiosity and a slight, almost academic detachment, but the fact she was asking at all spoke volumes.

She wasn't gushing, but the faint arch of her eyebrow suggested she was re-evaluating her little brother's capabilities. The usual chaos of kids' sports hadn't prepared her for this level of… competence.

Certainly not from her brother.

Mia, on the other hand, was a tempest in a teacup. Her initial disinterest, feigned or otherwise, had morphed into a complicated knot of emotions. She squirmed in her seat, her arms crossed tightly. "Hmph." She muttered, loud enough for her parents to hear over the din of Jae-il-centric praise. "It's just one game. And they're just a bunch of clumsy oafs he's playing against." She crossed her arms, looking away.

When Eun Ha cooed. "Isn't he just the best, Mia?"

Mia merely tossed her hair; she had been planning on dyeing it blonde. "He's okay, I guess. But dad, remember when I scored three goals in that mini-hockey game last year? Three! And I didn't even practice that much." She punctuated her statement with a pointed look at Yeong Gu, who was still glowing.

"Yes, sweetie, that was wonderful." Yeong Gu said, giving her a quick pat on the head without taking his eyes off the field where Jae-il was now receiving instructions from his awestruck coach.

Mia's pout deepened. It wasn't that she wasn't proud—a tiny, traitorous part of her was bouncing inside, watching her little brother make everyone's jaws drop.

But all this attention! It was like Jae-il had a giant magnet for it, and she was just… there, another face in his adoring crowd. "And he still looks like a baby when he runs." She added under her breath, though there was no real malice in it, more like a desperate attempt to find a flaw in the golden boy image currently being projected.

She then nudged Su Ah, who was still watching Jae-il with that new, analytical expression. "He's probably going to be unbearable after this, isn't he? All 'I'm Jae-il the Great Football Star!'" She mimicked in a low, teasing voice, though a small, reluctant smile played on her lips.

Truth was that Jae-il would likely never mention his talent for the sport. He had always been like this. Always so quiet, unnervingly intelligent at times, and so… infuriatingly perfect.

Su Ah just gave a non-committal shrug, a faint, almost impressed smile on her own face now. "Maybe. But he might actually be one."

Mia sighed dramatically. It was going to be a long second half, listening to everyone sing Jae-il's praises. Maybe she could convince dad to buy her ice cream and Jae-il later, just to even things out a bit. Or better yet, challenge Jae-il to a race later. She could still beat him at that. Probably.

When the second half kicked off, the white team's strategy was painfully obvious: stop Jae-il at all costs. Two, then three, sometimes even four players swarmed him the moment the ball came near his vicinity.

It was a desperate, chaotic tactic. For Jae-il, it was like watching children try to catch smoke with their bare hands. He'd draw them in, a tiny matador facing a herd of bewildered bulls, then with a subtle shift of weight, a quick drag-back, or an explosive burst of pace that defied his small frame, he'd glide past them, leaving them tripping over each other in their haste.

The scoreboard, already lopsided at 4-1, began to tick over with an almost brutal regularity.

Jae-il added another goal himself, a cheeky, perfectly placed free-kick that curled around their haphazardly assembled wall and into the net before the keeper could even react. Then, he decided to share the 'glory,' if one could call it that. He began to dissect the increasingly panicked and disorganized white defense with passes that his teammates, now looking to him for every cue, simply had to tap in.

Joo Won, beaming, got his second goal this way. Even Min-jun, the square-jawed boy, managed to score, looking utterly astonished as Jae-il's perfectly weighted through-ball left him one-on-one with the keeper.

The absolute disaster for the opposing team unfolded with grim predictability.

Their attempts to nullify Jae-il left vast, untended prairies of space elsewhere.

Their players started shouting at each other, frantic gestures replacing any semblance of teamwork. Especially their goalkeeper—the kid had probably envisioned a quiet afternoon, yet now he flinched every time Jae-il got within thirty yards.

He let in two more soft goals, one a long-range effort from Jae-il that he fumbled over the line, the other a simple pass that trickled through his legs after Jae-il had drawn him out and laid it off. The boy looked utterly broken.

The parents on the opposing side had fallen silent, their earlier cheers replaced by murmurs of disbelief and then resigned quiet.

When the referee finally blew the whistle, putting an end to the carnage, the score read an almost unbelievable Suryong Private School 12, Opposing Team 1.

Jae-il had personally accounted for eight goals and orchestrated three of the assists, the twelfth goal being a comical own goal as a defender, under pressure from Jae-il's mere presence near the box, wildly sliced a clearance into his own net.

The players in white trudged off, a portrait of dejection. A few of the smaller ones were openly crying, consoled awkwardly by their equally stunned parents. It wasn't just a loss; it was a public dismantling by a single, diminutive seven-year-old.

Jae-il, barely breaking a sweat, accepted the awestruck pats on the back from his teammates. Min-jun approached him, eyes still wide. "I... I've never seen anything like that, Jae-il. You're not human."

Jae-il just shrugged, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as he looked towards his beaming family.

Eun Ha was already rushing towards the sideline, Yeong Gu nodding with immense pride, Su Ah actually looking impressed, and Mia… Mia was giving him a small, slow clap, though she was obviously not looking at him.

This was nothing. But it was a start.

​He could already hear the deafening roar of 60 thousand fans screaming his name.

After he extricated himself from Eun Ha's clingy embrace and Yeong Gu's words of praise, he walked towards his sisters. He reached them, his expression as placid as ever, though a keen observer might have noted the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, you took long enough already." She crossed her arms. Typical Mia trying to assert some kind of stupid superiority. "Hmph, done showing off?"

Su Ah, who had been quietly watching him approach, spoke softly, her gaze curious. "Jae-il… that one goal… where the ball went all bendy and weird in the air. How did you… make it do that?"

Jae-il offered a patient smile, lopsided and a little knowing. "It's mostly in the way you connect with the ball, Su Ah Noona. A bit of practice." He then turned his gaze to Mia, whose pout deepened even further. "And it's now showing off, Mia Noona. Wouldn't it have been more insulting to the opposing team if I didn't give my all in every game? It just so happens that my giving it all usually amounts to quite a lot of points. But… it is indeed unfair. I am quite the star, aren't I? Heh."

Mia, who had been ready to continue her teasing, suddenly felt her words catch in her throat.

She was used to his odd maturity, his unflappable calm in the face of her... well, everything, but sometimes it hit her anew just how different her little brother was from other children. Other people in general.

At times, she almost expected him to be quiet and boring. If not for those times he'd act his actual age.

Like now, his mischievous glint matching the toothy smile on his small face. "Don't you agree? Yes, you must admit it as well. Your dear, little, innocent, brother, is simply the brightest star. Isn't it true? No?"

"No, you're not!" She snorted, fighting off a blush. She crossed her arms and briefly looked away.

He chuckled softly, a surprisingly deep sound coming from such a small frame. "Come on, now. Don't pout on me. I've heard you could get your lips stuck like that the more you do it."

Mia's lips unpuckered so fast Jae-il had to hold back a laugh. She was about to pepper him with her tiny fists before he took a step back and made a tempting proposal. "Anyway, wanna grab some ice cream?"

"Ice cream?" She repeated, blinking.

"I believe our dad owes us some." Jae-il turned his head slightly, catching their father's eye. Yeong Gu, still basking in the afterglow of the match, grinned and nodded enthusiastically, clearly happy to indulge his son after such a performance.

Mia, despite her earlier protests about Jae-il's 'showing off', couldn't help but break into a grin.

Ice cream did sound like a good way to end the day, even if it was a small victory compared to Jae-il's.

"Chocolate?"

"Always." Jae-il said, his smile widening a fraction.

"You like it?"

"I like it because you like it, Noona."

"......"

As they made their way to their father, Mia couldn't help but glance at her brother.

Her cheeks were rosy as she wrinkled her nose, her lips about to form a petulant pout, but then she remembered what he said and unpouted. "You know, Jae-il, you're not as cool as everyone says."

Jae-il blinked, looking down at his mud-splattered jersey and grass-stained shorts. He raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't want to be cool in those terms, Mia Noona. It's much better to be competent and comfortable than to sacrifice practicality for appearance."

Su Ah nodded appreciatively, while Mia merely gaped at her little brother, then huffed a laugh. "See, that's what I mean! Only an old man in a child's body would say something like that."

Jae-il's smile was cryptic. "No, Mia Noona. Only an intelligent person would say that. Then again, nobody expects something like that from you." He said, before quickening his pace to catch up to their parents.

"Hey!" Mia waved a fist in the air, as threatening as a kitten with a toy mouse. "Get back here, you little...!" She huffed, but a small smile played on her lips as she jogged to keep up. "Don't forget that I can still outrun you!"

Unfortunately for Mia, it turns out that she couldn't outrun him.