First Touch
Evan Morrison was coming to Madrid CF.
The Spanish capital Madrid, upon receiving the joyous news, buzzed with excitement. Workplaces, restaurants, sports pubs, streets—regardless of location, everywhere was filled with talk of Evan. Eyes mixed with anticipation, excitement, and doubt waited impatiently for Evan's landing in Madrid.
In fact, the previous season had been horrific for the citizens of Madrid, whose passion for football was second to none. Not only had they been stripped of the Primera Liga title by rival team Deportivo Barcelona, but they had also been forced to watch Barcelona win the European Champions League.
The crisis-stricken team needed a new hero. The fans longed for an outstanding player who could elevate the team's level of play one step higher. To appease the angry fans, club president Antonio Cuaresma made a bold and provocative decision in the summer transfer window. The amount wagered was 200 million euros—the highest transfer fee in history.
Soon after, the transfer of Evan Morrison, a world-class striker who had won the Ballon d'Or twice and claimed the Premier League golden boot for five consecutive years, to Madrid was announced. The signing of the English killer who would perfectly solve the chronic finishing problem that had plagued Madrid CF sent Madrid's fans into a crucible of frenzy.
Spain boasts the highest amount of sunshine in Europe. The warmly pouring summer sunlight dried the arid air without a single drop of moisture. Green leaves facing the sunlight head-on seemed as though they would crumble into dust at any moment. The oppressive summer heat had a way of rendering people utterly lethargic.
However, Evan Morrison alone, situated in the heart of Madrid, overflowed with fresh vitality like a sprout emerging in the early dawn with dewdrops. The sound of camera shutters clicking was loud. The handsome blonde with delicate features met the camera's eye comfortably with a natural, playful expression, his blue eyes sparkling like starlight.
Every time he slightly raised his fingers to touch his face, the gaze of thousands shifted busily. At Madrid CF's home stadium, San Jose Fernando Stadium, Evan Morrison's signing press conference was in full swing.
"Evan, tell us how you feel transferring to Madrid CF by breaking the highest transfer fee record."
"Madrid CF is already a great team, but won't it be able to become a little greater with me joining?"
At Evan's sly joke, laughter burst from the press corps.
"It's a well-known fact that Madrid CF has long coveted you. After turning down numerous offers, what was the occasion that made you decide to transfer this time?"
"Well. I suppose it's still the money, isn't it?"
Once again, laughter echoed through the room. Evan shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalant face as if asking what the big deal was.
"You are the player most loved by British tabloids. There is speculation that conflicts with Preston FC's manager due to your messy private life were the main reason for the transfer. Is that true?"
Poked where it hurt, Evan slightly furrowed his eyes. He really couldn't understand. He was outstanding at football—wasn't that enough? Yet the manager, the fans, and people were all overly interested in his private life.
"Well, if I were Jonathan Ackerley, I would have wanted to grab my pant legs and cling to me as I left for Madrid."
Despite his outstanding football skills, Evan, who had transferred as if driven out from the team he had loved since his youth due to conflicts with the manager, gritted his teeth. The idea that his presence harmed teamwork was absurd.
"Unfortunately, I'm already here in Madrid."
As if he had never furrowed his brows, Evan beamed brightly again. It was an unbelievably boyish and clear smile for someone whose debauched nightly escapades had been stirred up daily without fail by the British tabloids.
"Morrison, there is no disagreement that you are the best player in the EPL. Even so, there are quite a few opinions that President Antonio Cuaresma overpaid for a player with no La Liga experience."
It was a question that scratched at his pride. Evan took a sip of the sports drink on the table and smiled leisurely.
"I suppose I'll just have to prove President Cuaresma's excellent economic sense through this season."
Evan smirked, one corner of his mouth raised. The confident smile that could appear arrogant at a glance was his trademark.
"Aren't the Spanish beauties already making your heart flutter?"
Amidst the boring, cliched, and obvious questions pouring down like garbage, a topic that piqued Evan's interest appeared for the first time. Evan's eyes sparkled. The atmosphere he exuded suddenly became bright.
"Spanish beauties? Of course, they're fantastic."
Interest gleamed brightly on Evan's harmoniously sculpted, delicate face. Smiling with his eyes curved charmingly, Evan radiated confidence like light. Even when saying lascivious words that could come off as dirty, his attitude was refreshingly charming, perhaps due to his unusually beautiful face. Someone shook their head, but regardless, Evan's excited voice had risen a tone higher.
"But is it only beauties? I always welcome handsome men too."
Having finished speaking, Evan burst into a ringing laugh. As if the dam had broken, his agent who would eventually have to clean up the mess sighed. At the same time, the hands of reporters typing on laptops went madly fast. Even after leaving London and arriving in Madrid, Evan had unreservedly thrown reporters the bait needed for an exclusive scoop.
***
Eighty thousand spectators gathered at the San Jose Fernando Stadium, steeped in the history of the world's most prestigious club. Even the highest upper tier was completely filled; not a single empty seat could be found even with a careful look. However, the crowd that filled the seats had not come to watch today's match.
Today was the signing ceremony of 'him,' Evan Morrison. The people gathered like swarms of bees were anticipating the sight of star player Evan Morrison, the newest member of "Los Rojos (The Reds)," donning Madrid CF's red uniform.
Though Evan was a surrealistically handsome man who was often consumed outside of football due to endless gossip, even his antis could not deny that he was a world-class footballer. Evan possessed outstanding football intelligence; on the ground, his situational judgment and predictions were sharp, and he was a striker equipped with incisive space penetration and powerful shooting. He was also a player with tenacity and fighting spirit, unhesitant to hurl abuse at opposing teams and engage in rough physical contact when necessary.
The Madrid crowd filling the stadium held abundant expectations for such an Evan. As Evan picked up the vividly colored red uniform with high saturation, the people sent up thunderous cheers. Evan's heart burned hotly at the passionate attention the fans of Madrid sent toward him. They had been desperately waiting for a hero, and Evan was ready to become their new hero.
Evan spread the red uniform with his name and number 9 printed on it with both hands.
"I came to this team to win."
Evan declared gravely with a resolute face, all his usual laughter and playfulness gone. "Waaaaah!" The crowd screamed. Morrison! Morrison! Morrison! Before they knew it, they were chanting his name. Evan gently lowered his eyelashes fluttering in the golden light and deeply inhaled the scorching heat of the San Jose Fernando Stadium, which would become his new 'home.'
A soccer ball was placed at the center of the white circle drawn in the middle of the ground. It was the sphere that would govern people's joy and sorrow for the day. The noisy stadium fell silent in an instant. When everyone's gaze was directed at the soccer ball, the sound of the referee blowing the whistle was heard. It was the start of the match.
The ball swam across the deep green ground, and players from both teams fiercely contested to not lose the initiative. Evan also dashed swiftly across the ground. Though football always made Evan's heart race, his resolution for today's match was different. Evan wanted to show outstanding performance in his Primera Liga debut.
Evan's transfer to Madrid, which he had thought he would remain a Preston man forever, was undoubtedly the hot potato of the summer transfer window. It wasn't only cheers welcoming Evan's signing that broke the highest transfer fee record with a staggering amount. There were also skeptical gazes wondering if Evan, with only EPL experience, could be worth 200 million euros in Spain.
In the Primera Liga Round 1 match broadcast live worldwide, people's attention was pinpointed on Evan Morrison among Madrid CF's terrifyingly splendid squad. With his cheeks flushed red, Evan took a short breath and kicked the grass with the tip of his football boot. The tension pulling sharply at his fingertips made his heart thump. Today's match was an opportunity to prove himself.
The midfielder passed the ball to Evan. Having stably received the ball, Evan dribbled smoothly and charged toward the flank. The opposing team's defense didn't look particularly tight. At this timing, it seemed fine to cross directly to the target man, or to pull it out a bit more and center toward the goal. Having accurately grasped the players' positions with his broad vision, Evan decided to push straight for the goal.
That was when. Evan, who had been holding the ball, collapsed onto the ground with a thud. Each time Evan moved to the flank, the opposing team's fullback who had been marking him excessively made a rather aggressive tackle on Evan. Having suddenly slid to the ground, Evan appealed his grievance to the referee, but the match proceeded without delay. Whenever he tried to penetrate the opponent's half a little more aggressively, Evan inevitably fell to the rough tackles of the opposing defenders. The containment defense targeting Evan was concentrated.
From the start of the match, Madrid held firm superiority in possession and poured attacks into the opponent's half. However, there was no decisive finishing blow. As Madrid's attacking opportunities returned in consecutive failures, the flow of the match grew frustrating. Rather, the opposing team, which had been pushed onto the defensive, suddenly launched a counterattack and put Madrid on edge.
Indeed, Primera Liga matches were different from the Premier League matches Evan had played since he was twenty for seven years. The defenders' styles were different, as were the referees' discretion. When a Madrid striker's shot missed the goal by a long shot, Evan let out a small sigh. He hurled unnecessary abuse at the defender who was sticking tightly to him.
Continuing to bide his time, Evan read the empty space in the midfield area. The Madrid midfielder who had been tying up the ball with fancy individual skills gradually faltered against the increasingly close pressure. Evan drove inward densely and raised his hand high toward him. When their eyes met, the midfielder gladly passed to Evan.
Having received the ball just like that, Evan dribbled and penetrated into enemy territory. The defenders clinging to Evan as if they had been waiting were ready to launch dirty tackles at any moment. In the gradually narrowing space, Evan looked left and right quickly. Sometimes people thought of Evan as a greedy player who tried to monopolize chances. Unfortunately, that was a prejudice.
Having confirmed a Madrid attacker entering the penalty box, Evan sent a killer pass. When the ball touched the tip of his football boot, Evan felt a thrilling certainty pulling at him.
"Goal!"
It was undoubtedly a goal. Jan Petterson, who had kicked up Evan's pass that penetrated the space exquisitely, finished cleanly. The stadium crowd, who had been anxiously waiting for Madrid's goal for the first 30 minutes of the first half, erupted in thunderous cheers. Yan hugged Evan tightly with a broad smile. It was so outstanding an assist that fierce gratitude was not enough.
It was a 3:0 overwhelming victory for Madrid. The Madrid attack line, which had reversed the sluggish atmosphere of the early game along with the goal, pushed the opposing team relentlessly without a moment to breathe and added two more goals to seal the victory. Evan had led the team to victory with a wonderful assist. Although it was somewhat regrettable that the volley he let fly in the second half missed by hitting the goalpost, it was fine since there would always be opportunities to score.
The atmosphere of the Madrid players, having obtained a satisfactory result, was harmonious. As they passed through the mixed zone chatting amiably in loud voices, the press approached the players thick and fast.
"Evan, Evan. That assist today was really fantastic! How do you feel about successfully completing your Madrid debut?"
Evan, who was shouldering Yan with whom he had suddenly grown close through today's combination play, smiled brightly.
"Madrid is really wonderful!"
He soon smiled bashfully. The blonde handsome man unable to hide his excited mood sent a hand kiss toward the camera with an angelic face.
***
After a match ended, his body always itched with a unique elevation and excitement. The sensation of thrill crawling tickling across his skin never resolved itself. To be honest, Evan was fully prepared to explore Madrid's clubs right now. More directly, Evan needed sex to pour out all the surging energy from his entire body without reservation.
However, exploring Spanish clubs seemed to have to be postponed until next time. Eduardo, who had prepared a party to commemorate the first match of the season, had invited Evan. Hearing the rumor that he had invited not only Madrid CF players but also Spanish models, singers, and Madrid's celebrities, Evan's ears perked up.
It was already late at night. But football always excited Evan. Unable to come down from his still agitated state even after finishing the match, Evan mingled with people at the party without knowing fatigue.
Dreamy electronic music spread heavily through the air. His vision, beginning to sway from the appropriately rising alcohol buzz, was amusing. Attractive women in provocative outfits smelled fragrant. Overall, Evan was in a very good mood today.
"Evan, are you liking life in Spain?"
"Don't tell me you already have a girlfriend?"
"Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?"
"Is it true that you can do it with men too?"
Moreover, even though Evan hadn't scored a goal, he seemed like the protagonist of today's party. This was because people's attention poured onto Evan, who had adorned the front pages of daily newspapers as 'the world's most expensive football player' all summer long. Evan, who never blocked women from approaching him, had two Latin beauties nestled in each of his arms. The sweet scent of flesh and the soft rubbing sensation felt good.
Then, a tall figure walking languidly through the pleasure-scented mansion suddenly captivated Evan's gaze.
Calmly settled black hair, quietly immersed black pupils, skin slightly tanned dark. He was an Eastern man of extremely tall stature. Even in plain, modest clothing, he stood out exceptionally to Evan's eyes in the party hall filled with countless people. Though Evan already knew who he was, he blinked his eyes slowly as if seeing him for the first time today.
"……."
He was Yoon Jae-min, the Korean goalkeeper of Madrid CF.
Though Evan had become somewhat close with most of the players in the team since his transfer, Jae-min was the only exception. Come to think of it, after indirectly introducing himself through Eduardo, he didn't think they had ever properly talked.
I don't particularly recall avoiding Jae-min, but could it be that he's been avoiding me?
Evan, who had rediscovered Jae-min in an unexpected place, entertained his first question about him. There was no reason to be hostile. It didn't seem like a bad idea to get close to Jae-min through this party.
"Hello."
Evan spoke first to Jae-min, who was walking in his direction. It was English with a British accent.
"Hello."
A bluntly intoned Spanish replied.
Jae-min passed right by Evan and picked up one of the drinks stacked beside him. Turning around, he threw a glance. His gaze, which seemed to linger on Evan briefly, soon dropped to the floor. Evan's eyes narrowed. What is this, does he not want to talk to me?
It was a party where everyone was stamping their feet trying to get a word attached to Evan even once. Yet Jae-min hadn't even approached Evan; instead, he only showed a listless attitude even to Evan's greeting. His shaded eyes, half hidden by downward-facing eyelashes, stimulated Evan's interest. A mix of stubbornness and curiosity arose.
"Hey, you know."
We haven't properly greeted each other yet, have we?
Before Evan could continue, Jae-min walked past him with long strides. As the black-haired beauty on his left rubbed her chest against him, Evan felt his face crumple into a deep frown.
Watching Jae-min's tall retreating figure helplessly, Evan felt slightly aggrieved. He clearly heard me but just pretended not to know and walked past. No, what did I do wrong for him to treat me so coldly? We're even teammates! It was an absurd situation. The emotional Evan wanted to chase after Jae-min right then and there.
However, the warmth of the women rubbing their bodies against him with faint laughter matched to the languid music comforted and tempted Evan. Evan blinked his eyes.
The beauty on the left, or the beauty on the right—which one should he spend the night with? Evan pondered briefly. Perhaps spending the night with both of them wouldn't be a bad idea either.
***
Madrid CF's official training commenced at a large-scale training facility located on the outskirts of the city. Numerous cameras captured the Madrid players in comfortable attire lightly warming up or training.
Dutch-born striker Yan Petterson, who breathed in sync with Evan at the forefront of the attack, was a giant nearing 2 meters. Stretching his limbs that looked one and a half times Evan's size, he suddenly rushed at Evan.
Yan laughed heartily as he playfully put Evan in a headlock without hurting him. Evan flailed appropriately and played along with Yan's antics. The two had grown close rapidly after successfully executing a combination play that resulted in a goal in the previous match.
The players scattered about stretching noticed something amusing and noisily gathered around Evan and Yan. They burst into laughter upon discovering Evan still caught by Yan, or pitched in to tickle Evan's body here and there.
Though Evan was not yet fluent in Spanish, there was no language barrier in this kind of physical horseplay. Most teammates mingled familiarly with Evan. Evan was relatively successfully blending into the team.
So, except for the one person weighing on his mind.
Evan's gaze, still tangled with his fellow players, was directed far toward the goal. Jae-min, holding the goalpost and leaning his body diagonally, was talking with Eduardo about something.
Judging by the always wide-smiling Eduardo having a serious expression, the content seemed quite grave. The two were perfectly isolated from the commotion unfolding around Evan. Squinting his eyes under the pouring sunlight, Evan examined the two more closely.
Evan was conscious of Jae-min, but Jae-min was not conscious of Evan. In the atmosphere of resuming exercise after the horseplay ended, Evan stretched his calves. Still, the end of his gaze reached the goal where Jae-min and Eduardo were. He strained his ears, but the voices echoing from afar were Spanish that Evan could not understand.
Then, as if some turning point had occurred, Jae-min tapped the goalpost once, removed his hand, and smiled. Hearing Eduardo's laughter in fits, Evan stared intently at Jae-min, who still had a smile hanging obliquely at the corner of his mouth.
He knows how to smile too.
Evan felt somewhat bewildered.
After the reporters left, closed tactical training proceeded. Manager Vincent Renard was a believer in efficient and nutritious goals through set piece plays. The manager repeatedly instructed on corner kick situations.
Evan, possessor of accurate kicking power, curved the ball from the corner of the pitch. Defensive and offensive teams busily tangled toward the ball floating in the air. However, it ultimately failed to connect to a decent scoring opportunity. With a displeased expression, the manager ordered Evan to continue taking corner kicks.
For Evan, football was always a sense. When the tip of his shoe lifted the bottom of the ball, he felt that this time something would work. And indeed it did. The ball that drew a round arc from Evan's toes and bounced into the air landed precisely above Yan's head. Yan, whose 2-meter height itself was an attacking weapon, attempted a header. The ball aimed for the corner of the goal that looked like an exquisite blind spot.
However, it couldn't go straight in. At the critical moment, Jae-min punched the ball away. Ah. Evan let out a small breath—whether a sigh or admiration. It was a reflex nerve remarkable enough to surprise Evan, who had been watching the situation from afar. Jae-min's appearance in all-black upper and lower clothing was reminiscent of a jaguar.
Yan, who had missed the perfect scoring opportunity, was greatly disappointed. Jae-min, who had actually pulled off an enormous super save, showed little sign of joy, merely cracking his neck once and returning to his original position. The corners of Evan's mouth twisted subtly as he watched such Jae-min.
After a long practice, break time arrived. The players, tired from the hard training, relaxed their tension briefly and put on comfortable faces. Jae-min stretched his tall body loosely near the goalpost and sat alone. Evan, rubbing the water-beaded surface of his water bottle, scanned over Jae-min. Evan's blue eyes sparkled as he naturally recalled that day, that party.
Perhaps that day had been a coincidence. In the bright daylight where nothing could be hidden, Evan wanted to confirm Jae-min once more. Glug glug. Holding the water bottle, Evan gulped down the ion drink in a businesslike manner. He looked around once. And then crept stealthily toward Jae-min. It was his second attempt.
"……."
"……."
When Evan squatted down on his knees, their gazes roughly met. It was quite close enough to fully sense each other's presence. Not only that. Evan also briefly met eyes with Jae-min, who was glancing around at him.
Jae-min didn't seem to have any intention of greeting Evan first. Though he had certainly acknowledged Evan, he merely brought his lips to the water bottle, pretending not to know. Evan glanced at the healthy, plump lips touching the tip of the water bottle. Soon his gaze traveled down the Adam's apple bobbing up and down several times.
Ahem. Unable to endure the continued silence, Evan cleared his throat loudly first.
"Hey, Yoon."
Jet-black, distinct pupils looked back at Evan. Meeting the quiet gaze, Evan swallowed a small breath. He stared at Jae-min's firmly closed, plump lips as if tracing over them. Unwittingly, Evan ended up in a position where he was reading the Eastern goalkeeper's mood.
"……."
"…Yes."
The voice that reluctantly answered was very low.
"Um… I heard you're the first East Asian player in Madrid CF's first team."
The two were still facing each other. Evan fumbled briefly and then picked up a story he had heard from Eduardo at some point. New friend-making method number one: approach with a compliment.
"…Yes."
Hearing the far-from-enthusiastic answer, one corner of Evan's eye crumpled. He forced himself to continue speaking after thin deliberation.
"There was an East Asian player at Preston where I used to play too."
"……."
"In the end, well. He couldn't shake off the stigma of being a jersey seller due to repeated slump, but still."
New friend-making method number two: find common ground. Evan slightly raised his eyebrows and gauged Jae-min's reaction. There was no significant movement on his darkly tanned face.
"…Uh, so."
"Not all Asians are the same."
Jae-min answered curtly and turned his body, putting his back to Evan. Jae-min's body language suggested something all too clear, forcing even the brazen Evan, who had been sitting beside him, to stiffly stand up. Whether unfortunate or fortunate, at that moment the break ended.
Evan began jogging with tingling knees. His ears subtly blushed red. Truthfully, Evan was a person who rarely knew the emotion of shame. This was partly because Evan had barely been rejected from the start. Having received an armful of refusals from Jae-min just now—perhaps one of the countable rejections in his life—Evan felt, how to put it, a little embarrassed.
Throughout the subsequent training as well, Evan glanced at Jae-min repeatedly. Is he in a bad mood because of me? But I had good intentions.
On the international football stage, East Asian footballers held an exceedingly weak position compared to their European and South American counterparts. Evan had simply wanted to praise Jaemin for standing out in such circumstances. Yet the goodwill he had extended to Jaemin had once again been mercilessly thrown aside.
This time, it was certainly not a misunderstanding.
Having returned to the corner of the pitch to take a corner kick, Evan glanced toward the goal where Jaemin stood and hesitated. It felt as if a corner of his heart was being scratched raw.
***
The night view of Madrid beyond the terrace was beautiful. From Yan's mansion, situated in an exquisitely enviable location, the cityscape stretched out in abundance. Under the endlessly vast night sky, the flickering lights bloomed in a myriad of colors—a beautiful and unfamiliar sight that filled Evan with a particular sense of wonder.
But unlike Evan, who was thoroughly soaked in sentiment, Eduardo and Yan, engaged in a heated conversation, seemed to have little interest in the Madrid nightscape. The words they exchanged in an even tone gradually became tinged with excitement. "Evan!" Startled by his name suddenly being called out, Evan opened his eyes wide and turned to look at the two.
"Evan, we were talking about that bastard who kept tackling you and grabbing your jersey!"
"Uh, yeah…"
"Damn, I should've grabbed that dirty Valladolid defender by the collar at least."
Eduardo rolled his eyes and brandished his fist. The thought that Eduardo was more than capable of doing exactly that on the pitch sent a slight chill down Evan's spine. This midfielder, known for being amiable and personable off the ground, transformed into a fighting dog that tore into opponents with razor-sharp fangs the moment a match began.
"But still, we won."
Evan, who had flinched in surprise, quickly broke into a gentle smile. Faced with Evan's harmless demeanor, Yan's and Eduardo's expressions softened slightly.
"It was annoying for the first few minutes, but it wasn't that difficult a match."
"They're a lower-table team, so they're lacking in quality."
"Even if it's early in the league season, they were too lacking in intensity."
Pride in their team's strength was evident on the faces of the three as they brought the glasses on the table to their lips. Light laughter faintly spread.
"Come to think of it, it's a shame we didn't get to see Jaemin's brilliant save showcase because their attackers were all so wretchedly off-form that they couldn't even take a proper shot."
Eduardo brought up the topic of Jaemin. He was the type to praise Jaemin as a top-class goalkeeper at every opportunity; he seemed quite fond of Jaemin.
"…Hmm."
Evan recalled Jaemin turning away from him at the training ground with a cold demeanor. He didn't seem like someone easy to get close to, yet Eduardo appeared quite intimate with him. Perhaps it was because Eduardo had such a good personality. As he silently ruminated on this, Evan felt a peculiar sense of disappointment and exclusion.
"Hey."
"Yeah."
"About Yoon."
"Ah. Jaemin?"
Eduardo pronounced Jaemin's name with extreme fluency. That attitude further fueled Evan's curiosity.
"Is he always like that?"
"What do you mean?"
Cold. Curt. Brusque. And more. He could have tried harder to find the right adjectives. But before all rhetoric, there was a more intuitive expression. Evan, reasonably drunk, opened his eyes narrowly and his mouth.
"I mean, doesn't he have a shitty attitude?"
Screech. The cry of a nocturnal bird with its beak wide open reverberated through the air. The silence that enveloped the terrace in that instant, following Evan's words, made the bird's cry in the moonlit night sound conspicuously loud. Evan tilted his head between the two, who wore bewildered expressions.
"What do you mean, Evan? Where in the world is there someone as nice as Jaemin?"
"Yeah. When I transferred here last season, Jaemin helped me out a lot too."
Eduardo started, and Yan chimed in. The credibility of their repeated statements seemed obvious. Instead of adding anything, Evan brought the sweet, tangy sangria to his lips and drank. But even the glass raised to his mouth couldn't completely hide his face, which was rapidly darkening.
So did that really mean he only acted that way toward me?
***
Once night fell, there was no shortage of things to do. Despite the media's concentrated barrage, Evan had enjoyed the nightlife without hesitation and spent his leisure time accordingly ever since starting his career as a football player at the age of twenty.
Even when those around him discouraged him, saying that his handsome face made him stand out twice as much as others and invited scandal for the same actions, he never paid them any mind. During training and matches, Evan was always devoted to football. He felt fully justified in enjoying his remaining time according to his own tastes and will.
But right now, it was three in the afternoon. The bars and clubs Evan frequented weren't open yet. Because of that, he truly had nothing particular to do.
Moreover, he didn't yet have any real friends in Madrid. He had grown close enough to his Madrid CF teammates as colleagues, but they didn't feel like close friends he could spontaneously call up during his free time. Even sightseeing in Madrid, which had been a novelty at first, now seemed to have run its course.
After much deliberation, the destination Evan chose was the Madrid CF clubhouse. If he went there, he could hang out with his teammates, and if not, he could do some extra training. Evan headed to the garage and climbed onto his bright blue Bugatti Chiron.
He pushed open the glass door of the sophisticated, ash-white building. Soon after entering the clubhouse's playroom, he found several players gathered there. A few were engrossed in a basketball game, launching shots at the machine. He could see players wielding table tennis paddles and moving their bodies nimbly, as well as players with massive physiques hunched over a quaint table football set.
"Evan, what brings you here?"
Eduardo discovered Evan standing there blankly and greeted him happily. With an excited face, Eduardo lightly high-fived Evan.
"I was just too bored."
"No way, you? Bored?"
"What? Am I not human?"
Evan lightly returned the friendly joke Eduardo tossed at him, his eyes curving gently.
"Haha, just kidding. Good to see you. Want to play table football?"
"Hmm…"
Evan didn't answer immediately to the repeated offer. He had come to the clubhouse to spend time with his teammates, yet when actually invited to play, he didn't feel particularly inclined to participate. Instead, Evan stood with his arms crossed and slowly turned his head, sweeping his gaze around the spacious room.
Evan's slowly rotating gaze came to a stop on a quietly seated, jet-black back of a head.
"Argh." Right beside him, someone seemed to have made a mistake, clutching their head and groaning as they crouched down. Evan's Adam's apple bobbed low as he silently watched him.
"What are they doing, playing a game?"
"Ah, those are FIFA junkies. Don't they ever get sick of it?"
"I want to play that too."
"What, Evan? Are you betraying me?"
Evan gave a sheepish smile to Eduardo, who was playfully grabbing at him, then turned and started walking. He gradually drew closer to the back of the head he had been watching intently.
In front of the large TV were two people playing the game and one person watching from the side. All three were so fiercely focused on the game that they didn't notice Evan approaching. Not wanting to break the atmosphere, Evan likewise watched the game.
On the wide TV screen, a tight match between Madrid CF and FC Munich was unfolding. Following the busily moving fingers, the football leaped about the center of the screen as if performing tricks. Evan's eyes, driven by striker's instinct, followed the ball toward the goal.
It was a bit funny that they spent all day playing football and yet devoted their free time to a football game like this. Maybe it was because they were young. But come to think of it, Evan didn't think he'd been very interested in games even as a child. Rather, he had been far more interested in something much more practical….