Rumors had already been swirling for months.
Talk of Dušan Vlahović's transfer.
Perhaps there were even more fans who had been bracing themselves.
That Vlahović was someone who would leave.
So many teams had been coveting him, and most of them were big clubs counted among Europe's finest.
There was almost a feeling that his leaving was a foregone conclusion.
But when it truly became reality, the sense of betrayal fans felt was indescribable.
It wasn't even summer, but the middle of the season, in winter.
And not to another league, but a transfer within Serie A, and of all teams, to Juventus.
Again, again, again Juventus.
Why did it always have to be Juventus?
Fiorentina wasn't some Juventus youth team, yet whenever they raised a player up, he went straight over to Juventus; it was enough to make your insides cave in.
It was all the more so because the team's recent form had been good.
They had even reached the Round of 16 in the Coppa Italia.
In the league, they had strung together consecutive wins against strong teams and climbed to 5th place.
At this rate, couldn't they settle into the top four?
Next season, couldn't they go beyond the Europa League and even compete in the Champions League?
Couldn't they become a team that achieved better and better results, signed star players, and even aimed for the title while they were at it?
They had been dreaming of such a happy future, so when a transfer was announced that poured cold water on that hope, it was only natural that the Fiorentina fans' reaction was fierce.
To put it rather extremely, you could say it was nearly at the level of a riot waiting to happen.
In the days just before Vlahović left, police were deployed around his house, and graffiti vowing never to forgive him were plastered everywhere around the city.
Not a few fans came directly to the training ground to protest. The anger wasn't aimed solely at Vlahović; the club also bore the brunt of it.
After all, it was the club that had decided to sell him.
The Fiorentina fans were enraged.
At Vlahović, who had outright abandoned the team and gone to a mortal enemy, and at the club that had pushed the transfer through as if results didn't matter at all.
It was a situation where everyone was saying this team had no future.
But, in that situation, after leading the team to victory, a 16-year-old academy kid said this:
[The reaction shown by a 16-year-old prospect to Vlahović's transfer in a Juventus uniform... "When the season ends, I hope we'll be above Juventus."]
This season, we'll rise higher than Juventus.
That's what he said.
The team's star player had bolted to a rival team, and the club front office was more obsessed with money than results, yet a player who was only 16 declared his ambition, saying he was looking higher.
Naturally, the fans' reaction was explosive.
└Me, a 46-year-old geezer. Crying because of a 16-year-old kid.
└That kind of backbone though. Daaaaamn.
└This is it, hahaha.
└This kid's a real man! Love the confidence!
└Now Fiorentina's new king is Lee!
└I put down the spanner I was holding after seeing Lee's face.
└Come to think of it, we don't need Blahovic. Yeah, we just need Lee, lol.
└Fr, watching the game, we don't even need Blahovic? Playing around Lee, the team actually works better.
└You're not wrong. It felt like the performance got better the more Lee's influence grew.
└Maybe 'that bastard,' who sucked up all the team's resources, was actually a suppressor.
└Just a suppressor GOAT... Good riddance, Fucklahovic!
└How is it that only a 16-year-old brat has this kind of ambition? You old farts who've done nothing but age should reflect for once.
└Please, I want us to take a higher position just like Lee said and see 'that bastard' regret it.
└If we go to the Champions League next year and Juventus goes to the Europa, that'd be a sight to see, hahaha.
└I really want to see that bastard bawling his eyes out.
The Fiorentina fans gave a standing ovation.
It was cathartic, it was comforting, and it brought tears to their eyes.
It was a single sentence like glue that pieced back together feelings that had completely shattered.
Of course, by a reflex effect, curses toward Vlahović and the club only increased, but support for the remaining players—and especially Lee Jian—exploded.
Even before this, Lee Jian's popularity had been skyrocketing.
But through this incident, Lee Jian ascended not merely to the position of the team's adorable future, but to the seat of a hero.
It wasn't simply a matter of popularity.
So, to put it into perspective...
└It's okay if Lee waters down his espresso♡
To the point that people said it was okay even if Lee Jian drank an Americano.
To Italians, this held tremendous meaning.
···
"What, you? Surely you weren't secretly practicing because of me?"
"What?"
"To speak prettily, I mean."
"...Suddenly?"
"Everyone's gone crazy because of you. They're calling you Fiorentina's hero. Wow, our Jian. Guess I can't even hang out with you anymore?"
"..."
Honestly, it's a little bewildering.
Because things... got bigger than I expected.
That damn interview caused a scene again.
During yesterday's interview, I had simply answered honestly. They asked what I thought, so I just said what came to mind.
Honestly, I did feel a bit betrayed, and I just didn't want to lose to Juventus, so that's how I answered.
But hearing Jiu, she said there was a huge uproar because of my comments.
It wasn't an uproar in a bad direction... but the positive reaction was so overwhelming that I was mortified.
No, apparently people are calling me a hero and whatnot.
Why am I a hero?
I'm seriously dying from the pressure.
Pretending to be a genius is already killing me, and now I have to play hero too?
Anyway, my mouth is the problem.
This stupid mouth, this mouth, this mouth...
"What are you doing?"
"...Huh? Ah, it's nothing..."
I had been hitting my own mouth without realizing it, and Jiu looked at me with strange eyes.
I don't even know how far the lie I told just to avoid humiliation would end up rolling.
"Anyway, our Jian. You'd better do well in the next match too. The way things are, it'll be a huge deal if you don't."
"...I'll do well."
Since this is something I started, I have to take responsibility too. Well, I've already come far... but now there's really nowhere left to run.
Since people are calling me a hero, I have to become a real hero.
"I'll do well."
Jiu, standing beside me, bent down to meet eyes with me as I sat.
When I nodded slightly, Jiu smiled and patted my shoulder.
"You've done well until now. So you can keep doing well going forward. And, huh? So what if you mess up a little? You can have an off day. You've done so well until now. If someone would curse you just because you have one bad day, you don't need that kind of person. So don't worry."
...Why is it?
Is it because Jiu has a nice voice?
Like hearing birds chirping in the mountains puts your heart at ease.
Hearing Jiu's words made me feel at ease.
I might mess up... honestly, I don't know.
I still don't have the courage to be hated.
I still don't have the courage to show myself failing, and my heart hasn't grown broad enough to brush off curses coolly.
I'm still far from becoming a damn adult.
But that's why I'll try to do well in the next match too.
"I can't afford to mess up."
"Huh?"
Even though things turned out like this because of my bluff, it seems I still haven't come to my senses.
Seeing Jiu say it's okay even if I fail only makes me want to do better.
"Because I'm a genius and a hero."
"...Ugh."
...I guess I was just born this way, unable to help it.
· · ·
The world is truly difficult.
It would be nice if everything flowed the way I wanted, but that isn't always the case.
Rather, things flow into unwanted directions more often.
That's why life seems so complicated.
"Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee! Lee!"
After entering the stadium.
While lined up with my seniors, I heard my name here and there.
The spectators had fierce looks on their faces, even waving their fists as they chanted my name.
...It was a scene where I couldn't tell if it was support or not.
[Fiorentina's Hero, LEE!]
[LEE, the Most Beautiful Lily of Florence]
The banners shown at last week's match seemed to have all been cleared away. Different banners had taken their place instead, and most displayed my name.
Honestly, from the youngest player's perspective, standing beside my glaring seniors while seeing something like that, I was too embarrassed to lift my head.
The seniors were snickering, telling me to look, and I was dying of embarrassment.
In this situation of a hundredfold pressure, if only today's opponent was an easy one.
Life does not flow the way you want.
Today's opponent was Napoli, sitting in 3rd place in the league.
"Forza-!"
"Viola-!!"
As always, shouting victory, we scattered to our positions.
I too shouted Forza and walked toward the center circle for the kickoff...
When a sudden curiosity arose.
Why do we shout Forza before every match like this? I had never thought about it once until now, but today I was suddenly curious.
What's the reason we start by shouting this?
It's not like we can win just by shouting victory.
To win a match, you have to play soccer well; you can't win just by shouting this, can you?
Then why do we always shout this?
...Belief?
To have the belief that we can win, do we shout that we can win?
"Beep-!"
With the whistle, I erased the useless curiosity from my head and started the match with the kickoff.
*Honestly, there is no easy opponent in the league.
No matter which team you face, matches are never easy, and to win, you have to give everything you have.
It's just that Napoli was especially strong among them.
"Close the gap! We're spread out!"
"Hey! Drop back! I'm telling you to drop!"
Fast, powerful, and direct.
That was my first impression of Napoli.
Against us, who had come out in a somewhat defensive 4-4-2 formation, they pressed with the classic 4-2-3-1.
Because of the opponent's aggressive pressure, we had to concede possession to some degree, and when they had the ball, they always advanced toward our goal.
Their advancement from the sides was especially good.
The opponent's wingers on both sides were not very big—players with small physiques—but their speed was considerable. Especially, you could see they had good dribbling ability that made them feel even faster when they had the ball.
But what doubled the threat from those sides was the opponent's center forward.
He was a tall, lanky Black player, and I had heard in the pre-match briefing that he had already scored nine goals.
His movement inside the box was extremely threatening.
The coach had said we absolutely had to stop him, but it didn't look easy.
Thanks to that, from the start we were exposed to dangerous scenes several times, and in the uneasy flow of the match, the mishap finally happened around the 15th minute of the first half.
"Ah..."
We had conceded a goal.
Allowing a dribble breakthrough from the left was the first mistake, and getting our attention drawn there while losing track of the center forward's movement was the second mistake.
That player we had been warned to watch out for pushed in the winger's low cross and shook our net.
Perhaps because it had brought him into double-digit goals, he looked incredibly happy.
"It's okay, it's okay!"
"Let's go again! Focus a little more!"
The seniors shouted that it was okay, but the situation didn't get any better afterward.
It was because the opponent, having scored early, raised their momentum even more and began to push us.
The opponent's movements became faster, and they began threatening us by aiming at the goal even more aggressively.
In soccer, there is definitely something called flow.
And the game of soccer is one where the team that seizes that flow wins.
We had to somehow break this opponent's flow now. If we got swept along by it as is, the match would clearly only get harder.
To do that, I kept thinking about what I should do, but there was only one conclusion.
I had to get the ball first.
The opponent kept intercepting the ball in high positions, so defensively there was a limit to the help I could provide.
To contribute to somehow changing the flow, I had to wait for the ball to come to me.
"Hoo-"
I felt impatient.
I had to do something, but the thought that all I could do was wait was a bit stifling.
But I couldn't afford to get impatient.
So to control that impatience, I tried to trust my seniors.
Repeating to myself that if I didn't get impatient and trusted and waited for my seniors, the ball would definitely come to me, I strove to maintain my composure.
Trust the seniors.
The seniors will send the ball to me.
Believe, believe...
And in that moment, I felt like I understood why we shout Forza before the match starts.
Because I trusted my seniors, and my seniors truly responded to that faith.
Belief was more important than I thought.
Swish-!
Senior Milenković dove in front of the box. A clean tackle cutting off the opponent's pass in the middle.
After quickly getting back up, he glanced forward and immediately sent a pass.
It was toward me.
Swish-!
While watching the ball come, I checked the surroundings. My position wasn't very high. It was well below the center circle.
But even so, I was in the highest position on our team. My teammates were positioned much lower for the sake of defense.
I thought about whether I should slow the tempo... but then I realized that wouldn't bring back the flow that had shifted to the opponent.
I had to somehow bring the flow to our side.
To do that, I felt I had to reach the opponent's goal.
It was a judgment close to pure instinct.
Tap-tap-tap-!
The moment I received the ball, I turned.
I saw three or four defenders. For now, finding a relatively open space, I dribbled the ball toward the right half-space.
At that moment, a huge roar from the stands pierced my ears.
"Let's go-!"
"Show us-!"
Funny people who believe I'm a hero.
But... the power of belief may be greater than I thought.
All those people believe in me.
Maybe I'm the only one who doubts myself.
But I have to believe.
If you believe with all your heart, you can even deceive yourself.
Maybe that's what believing means.
Tap-tap-tap-!
The goal is far, and many defenders block the way ahead.
To break through this, I too needed to believe in myself.
It happens as you believe.
Believing that I was truly a hero, I dashed with the ball.
Then, in that instant, I felt something strange.
Was I always this fast?
I felt as if someone was pushing my back from behind.