"A player for the Korean national team, and Fiorentina's mascot. And today, we'll be meeting Jian Ri, selected as today's MOM. Ciao!"
"···Ciao."
Be it here or there, cameras and microphones know no consideration.
Maybe that's only natural since they're machines, but regardless.
Today, too, the microphone pushes into a rather uncomfortable distance, invading my personal space.
After wrapping up the match against Lazio in victory.
I stood before an advertising board plastered with multicolored logos.
"First of all, while this might sound trite to the fans, it was an incredible performance. Congratulations on your first hat trick since your professional debut!"
"Thank you."
Seeing the interviewer looking happier than me, I scratch the bridge of my nose and furrow my brow.
I'd scored a hat trick.
Saying it like that makes it sound grand, but it just means I scored three goals.
"How do you feel right now? How does it feel to score a hat trick?"
I shrug at the following question and answer awkwardly.
"···It feels like scoring three goals."
"Huh? That's all? Haha!"
···Hmm. 'That's all,' he says.
It was my way of expressing that there had been few days in my life as happy as this one.
I reflect a little, thinking that this interviewer has probably never played soccer even once.
Seems I'm lacking in consideration, too.
Since not everyone in the world knows what it feels like to score a goal, I add a word.
"It means I feel very good."
"I see! Everyone! He says it feels very good to score a hat trick!"
Nod, nod.
As I nod, the next question follows.
"Actually, there's more to celebrate. You debuted for the national team last week, too. It was quite the hot topic since it was the youngest debut in Korean national team history. The fans were proud, too. How did you feel?"
Mm.
I get the feeling that for this one, rather than telling everything honestly, it would be better to mix in some pleasantries.
"It was a happy occasion. Though I was a bit nervous, I think I felt that as a Fiorentina player, I couldn't show a lacking performance."
"My, the fans will be moved again hearing that. But actually, there were also some concerns."
I look at the interviewer as if asking what he means, and he continues.
"You're only seventeen. Yet you're playing as an irreplaceable starter for the team. This season, you're competing in three tournaments: the league, the Coppa Cup, and even the Champions League. That's already more than enough to be tough, and there were opinions that adding national team duties would inevitably exhaust you."
So that's what he meant.
Relieved for some reason, I nod, and the interviewer speaks again.
"It's a careful word to use, but ultimately, it's about overwork. Of course, I think today's performance answered that to some extent, but only time will tell. What do you think?"
Mm··· In the end, I think he's asking if it's hard.
Is it hard···? I could certainly say it hasn't been easy.
It's only natural that flying thirteen hours to play a match and flying another thirteen hours back is harder than resting at home and managing your condition.
But more than that, I'd decided to talk about what I felt during today's match.
Stopping my hand that had been scratching the bridge of my nose, I answered.
"It would be a lie to say it isn't hard··· but you feel it when you train. That you only grow through hardship and pain."
It might look like I'm pretending to be a bit sophisticated, but I suddenly remember what my trainer had said and add an analogy.
"They say that to build muscle, you have to torture it until it's wounded, and as that wound heals, the muscle grows. I think it's similar. If I grow as much as I struggle, I think a bit more hardship is fine. Today's match felt like a practice game. I definitely felt like I'd grown a little after going there and coming back."
Lifting 15kg after lifting 10kg would feel incredibly heavy, but lifting 15kg after lifting 30kg would feel incredibly light.
I think it's probably the same principle.
The match in Korea felt more burdensome than any other game, and it wasn't easy.
After playing such a match, the league game felt easy. Like a practice match.
Perhaps it's because the torn muscle heals and becomes stronger.
"If I think about it that way, a bit of hardship is fine, isn't it?"
"That's quite an impressive story. Then, that means we can look forward to even better performances in future matches, right?"
I nod at the question with a predetermined answer, and the interviewer nods back in satisfaction.
Honestly, I was the one looking forward to the upcoming matches.
The feeling I'd had in today's match was quite fresh, so I wanted to feel it more.
Come to think of it, of course, there are many frightening things in the world.
But I find myself thinking that maybe there's no need to be so afraid.
Because having something to fear ultimately means there's room to grow.
Like a syringe needle, something scary and painful can sometimes become medicine.
"Then, we've met Ri, who returned more of a man than before. Grazie!"
"Grazie."
···Not like I was a girl to begin with, though.
Regardless, I could finally free myself from the microphone with a short bow.
···
Honestly, I can't deny it.
All that talk about hardship being growth, how pain is worth enduring if it means you can become greater.
I'd done the interview acting somewhat like an adult.
But hardship isn't something that can always feel welcome.
In the end, hardship is only worth acknowledging in hindsight.
Viewed head-on··· it couldn't be more unwelcome.
"Let's go for it!"
"Lift the mood!"
Just three days after the match against Lazio.
The Artemio Franchi welcomed spectators once again, and we stepped onto the pitch for the fifth match of the Champions League group stage.
Our opponent was Sevilla of Spain.
We had won the previous match 3-1, but since that victory didn't guarantee today's, I couldn't relax.
What demanded even more focus was that the point gap between us and Sevilla was still within catch-up range.
Up to the fourth match, we had three wins and one draw, giving us ten points.
Sevilla, with one win, one draw, and two losses, had four points and sat in third place in the group.
In other words, if Sevilla earned six points in the remaining two matches including today's, and we failed to earn even a single point.
It's a scenario I'd rather not imagine, but the possibility of us dropping to third still remained.
Three wins, and one draw.
To think we still couldn't rest easy despite having never lost—who knew things could be this tight—but...
If it were easy, we wouldn't have set it as a goal to begin with. As the coach said before the season, our goal was to advance to the Round of 16, and the harder the goal, the better it feels to achieve.
I started the match telling myself that all this difficulty in every way was for the sake of feeling even better later.
···Though to be more accurate, the schedule was so grueling that I could only endure it by thinking that way.
Anyway, for better or worse.
The match itself didn't flow in a particularly intense atmosphere.
Sevilla seemed unable to find good form, showing a defensive posture, and the captain kept shouting that there was no need to rush, steadying the mood.
My role was to regulate things from the middle so that the atmosphere didn't suddenly shift.
If I had to force an analogy, it was like holding a faucet, making sure the water didn't come out too hot or too cold—adjusting the direction, you could say.
It might sound easy said like this, but it actually required tremendous delicacy.
It's not like there were four seasons.
The range in which you can maintain just the right water temperature is very narrow, and if it tilts even slightly to one side, lava or an ice block comes out—that's just how faucets are.
Besides, if I failed to adjust, it wasn't just me getting hit by that water but the whole team, so I had to turn the faucet even more delicately.
Fortunately, the sensation from the previous match had carried over.
My mind was lighter, and somehow I felt like I could see further.
The weather was quite overcast, so it probably wasn't just the weather letting me see far; I thought perhaps the wounds were healing and making me more resilient.
Anyway, the water temperature the coach had requested was lukewarm overall, so to maintain that, I kept the faucet centered.
If the opponent came out cold, I'd turn it a little hot; if they came out hot, I'd turn it a little cold.
No need to complicate it: if the opponent came out defensive, I raised the attacking tempo; if they built an attacking flow, I lowered the tempo by circulating the ball slowly.
In that sense, finishing the first half 0-0 was pretty good, but it also meant I had to be more meticulous in the second half.
Isn't it true that those with nothing to lose grow brave? Just as I had been fearful because I had something to lose.
Sevilla was a team that couldn't be satisfied with anything but three points, a team that interpreted a draw as no different from a loss.
So the moment the second half began, the opponent charged to turn the faucet to its hottest setting.
To avoid getting burned by that hot water, I either had to keep the faucet from turning,
or I had to run cold water to bring the temperature back to lukewarm.
Suddenly, I thought that the easier option might be to just pour cold water on everything.
So I twisted the faucet wide open, and around the 15th minute of the second half, our opening goal came.
The situation started with an attack down the opponent's right flank, but the captain succeeded in defense and gained possession, and I triggered the counterattack with the intention of turning on the cold water.
Since I'd chosen to possess the ball and slow the flow rather than force a counterattack until then, I think that counter proved effective precisely because of that.
Anyway, the rapid counter caught the opponent's defense off guard, and we scored a goal relatively easily, properly pouring cold water on them.
Of course, even after that, Sevilla threw a tantrum, unwilling to go home just like that.
But calming them down wasn't particularly difficult.
Because nothing is easier to deal with than an impatient opponent.
In the end, we were the ones to score a second goal, too.
Another goal came around the 30th minute of the second half, and I, exhausted beyond measure, was afforded the consideration of a place on the bench.
Sitting there in a thick coat, I suddenly thought that it had been quite an interesting match.
Rather than simply running while looking straight ahead··· it felt refreshingly new, like I was shaping the match with my own hands.
Anyway, the match ended in our 2-0 victory,
and with that, we were guaranteed not to fall below third place, successfully securing advancement to the knockout stage.
Of course, depending on whether we finished first or second, the weight class of our opponent in the Round of 16 would change, so we still had to prepare well for the final match.
Still, it was true that my mind was considerably more at ease.
My steps on the way home after the match were light, and the same was true even after arriving home.
However, that leisure didn't last long.
Because Jiu had already brought a new piece of news.
As for what that news was, well···
They told me to come to Qatar.