Cancel that thing about Milan being a beautiful city.
After coming back to Florence, I can see that this place is indeed more beautiful.
Jiwoo agreed too.
"Get home safe!"
"Yeah. Go."
Dragging my tired body out of the car, I bid farewell to Jiwoo. A club official had given me a ride, and had offered to take Jiwoo home as well.
I heard on the way here that the neighborhood had been quite noisy because of yesterday's match.
It wasn't a game against a rival team, but since we had beaten the first-place side, everyone must have been happy.
The official said it was because of me, but who knows.
It's not that I can't imagine the scene, yet actually walking through this darkened neighborhood, I feel a strange sense of disconnect.
They said this place was bustling enough because of me yesterday, yet here I am now, merely fumbling around in my bag for my keys as I walk down a gloomy alley.
Click-
I turned the key, opened the door, and went inside. The living room light was off. Seeing that only the kitchen light was on, it seemed Dad hadn't returned yet.
Lately, Dad had become busier than me.
I wish Dad could come with me like Jiwoo does... but I suppose my weekly wage still isn't enough.
If only I could play twice as much as I do now.
Well, with those kinds of useless thoughts running through my head, I unpacked, took a moderately cold shower, and soothed my weary body.
"Ugh..."
Why can't I ever get used to cold showers, no matter how many I take?
Even though I set it to lukewarm because it's winter, the chill seeps right into my bones.
If I weren't a soccer player, I probably would have gone my whole life without ever taking a cold shower.
But it can't be helped.
There are things in this world you simply have to do.
"Phew-"
Finishing my battle of a shower, I came out, got dressed, grabbed a vegetable juice, and sat down on the sofa.
I considered turning on the lights, but left them off.
I like it moderately dark. The living room light had burned out a while ago, and when I changed the bulb, it was so bright it was blinding.
I heard it was a German product.
How ironic that a light bulb made to banish darkness could be too bright.
Slurp...
Dutifully sipping the disgusting vegetable juice, I enjoy my time alone.
Still, I like this time.
I remember when I went to school in Korea, sometimes when the kids turned off the classroom lights, the teachers would ask if we were children of darkness.
Seeing how much I like the dark, I suppose I really might be a child of darkness.
...Wait a minute.
If I'm a child of darkness, then my dad becomes the darkness.
That's not right.
...Then those teachers were taking shots at our parents?
Smirking at the absurd thought, I turned on the TV.
The house was too quiet; I needed some moderate noise.
I used to love it completely dark and eerily silent, but now I like it moderately dark and moderately quiet.
I don't really know why.
It's just that if it's too dark or too quiet now, it feels awkward. Hollow, I suppose.
My heart feels empty and unnecessary thoughts creep in, which I don't particularly like.
Especially right after a match, when I come home or return to the lodging like now.
Maybe it's because the road to and from the stadium is so bright and noisy.
Playing soccer in front of tens of thousands of people, receiving their cheers... and then suddenly finding myself alone in a dark, empty space.
Sometimes I wonder if this is the dream, or if being at the stadium was the dream.
I'm not exaggerating; I really mean it...
"-Next up. A roundup of the news that heated up this past week..."
That's why I like warm water—not cold, not hot.
If I had to be specific, it's still closer to the cold side.
Come to think of it, I used to think I wasn't the greedy type, but it seems I am.
Maybe I'm actually quite greedy.
I hate the cold bath because it's too cold; I hate the hot bath because it's too hot.
I want to play soccer well, but I don't want to become too famous.
I want to be a genius, but I don't want to hear people call me one.
What kind of absurd greed is this?
Even I think it's really greedy.
I can't have only what I want.
You have to know how to give up something...
"-The match that attracted the most attention was AC Milan versus Fiorentina's..."
"...!"
At the voice flowing from the TV, I immediately grabbed the remote.
And just as I was about to change the channel, a sudden thought made me pause.
"-Round 21, a clash between league leaders AC Milan and Fiorentina, who have risen to 3rd place with tremendous momentum. This match received a great deal of attention..."
Fiorentina's story is coming up.
Which means my story will come up too.
My face and my story, and what people think of me and how they react.
Checking that with my own eyes is a truly burdensome thing. It's cringeworthy, embarrassing, and frightening.
So much so that my entire body tenses up.
But... ignoring it doesn't make it go away.
I had wanted to become a soccer genius for just one person. However, that is impossible.
Now I know for sure. It's impossible.
I learned that to get what I want, unwanted things have to follow.
I have to give up one thing.
Then what should I give up?
...It's a hard choice.
I change the question.
What is the one thing I absolutely cannot give up?
"..."
Thinking that way, the answer already seemed decided.
"-The star of the day was, as expected, Lee. Fiorentina's ace. A player who is currently receiving attention from countless European clubs. On this day as well, Lee proved why he is receiving such attention..."
I stared at the TV with my whole body tensed.
Every time my name and my face appeared, my heart dropped, but I clenched my teeth and endured.
I could not give up my greed to become a soccer genius.
Therefore, I had to give up my greed of not wanting attention.
I had to learn to overcome the attention being poured on me, and for that I needed training.
So I faced myself on that screen without looking away.
It was the same logic as forcing myself to drink this disgustingly foul vegetable juice.
"-...And so Fiorentina pulled off an unexpected 3-0 complete victory, closely chasing down 2nd place Inter. Let's see Lee's post-match intervie-"
Beep!
"...Phew!"
Enduring like that, the moment my interview was about to come on, I couldn't stand it anymore and changed the channel.
I could somehow endure the rest, but that was something I absolutely couldn't.
Phew.
Panting for breath, I could feel my back was damp. I had broken out in a cold sweat in that short span of time.
Let's stop here for today...
"-De Bruyne moving forward, Silva receives it. Silva, shoots straight away-!!"
Sighing, I changed the channel, and by coincidence it stopped on another soccer channel.
The commentary was in English, and it clearly wasn't our league, so I left it on.
As long as it's not a match I'm playing in, watching soccer is fun.
"...Puma, win."
With the players shown in close-up, I muttered upon suddenly noticing the logos on both teams' uniforms.
The light blue uniform was Puma, and the red uniform was Adidas.
Both were teams unrelated to me, but since the cleats I wear are Puma.
Besides, I hate Adidas, so I was rooting for the light blue team.
Because Juventus's uniform is Adidas.
"-Goooal! A lovely goal!"
Oh, did my cheering work?
Right after I cheered, the light blue team scored.
An incredibly cool goal.
"-Manchester City pulls ahead 2-0! The expressions of Manchester United's home fans are darkening!"
...Huh?
Hearing familiar names, my eyes widened.
Manchester City and Manchester United.
I'd never seen them before, but I had certainly heard the names many times.
They're incredibly famous teams.
No wonder everyone seemed so good—it was a match between famous teams.
If they're those kinds of teams, then all 22 players on the pitch right now must be geniuses among geniuses...?
"...Wow."
Before I knew it, I was absorbed in watching the match, letting out an exclamation every ten seconds.
They're good. Everyone is really so good...
How can they play soccer so well?
The level is truly high.
Especially the light blue team—that is, the Manchester City players' play was impressive to me.
Everyone struck the ball so cleanly. From basic skills like simple touches and passes, I could feel they were on another level, and at the creative passes that burst forth occasionally, I couldn't help but let my jaw drop.
...How can they play soccer like that?
For a moment, I felt like I wanted to meet them and ask.
They are geniuses counted among the world's best, after all.
I have so many questions for real geniuses.
It was while I was watching soccer so engrossed like that.
Click-
Hearing the sound of a key turning, I turned my head to see Dad coming in.
"Oh, Jian, you were already here."
"Yes. Welcome back."
"Ah, I had wanted to wait for you. Have you eaten?"
"I ate before coming."
I had naturally assumed he was coming back from work, but seeing him come in without a bag, it seemed that wasn't the case.
Had he met up with a friend or something?
Not like Dad has many friends either.
"Were you watching soccer?"
"Yes."
"Let me see. Oh, it's the Manchester Derby. This is from the day before yesterday. Want me to tell you who won?"
"...No."
Dad sat down naturally beside me and burst into hearty laughter.
Except for playing it, Dad was probably better than me at watching soccer.
Dad really knows so much.
When I was little I thought Dad was Superman, and honestly, he's still not much different now.
"Keh, De Bruyne. He plays so well."
"He's a famous player, right?"
"Of course. He's famous. There's no one who doesn't know him."
"There he is."
"Isn't that right?"
Talking while looking at the TV screen, I suddenly wondered if we'd ever done this before.
Had I ever comfortably watched soccer and chatted with Dad like this? I didn't think so.
I shrugged to myself and focused on the screen when Dad spoke.
"Hey, you know."
"Yes."
"Um... you know those brands that make soccer cleats?"
"Yes."
"Which one do you like the best? Among Nike, Adidas, and Puma."
Hm?
I looked at Dad at the somewhat out-of-the-blue question.
I had just been thinking about the Puma versus Adidas matchup earlier.
"Kappa."
"...Kappa?"
I nodded.
Our team uniform is made by a brand called Kappa.
That's how much I think about our team.
"But aren't you wearing Puma right now?"
"...That's right."
"If you like Kappa, why are you wearing Puma?"
...Hm.
When I didn't answer and just shrugged, Dad smiled and said,
"Anyway, um... just hear me out. Those brands said they want to sponsor our Jian... I received those kinds of calls."
"...Sponsorship?"
"Yeah. You know, they say there are things like that. They sponsor equipment and stuff, things like that."
I looked at Dad with wide eyes.
Then Dad continued.
"Puma, Adidas, and Nike contacted me... from all three."
I was a bit dazed.
Wait, those three brands—even ordinary people who don't play soccer know their names just by hearing them, don't they?
That such famous companies would want to sponsor me, I was dazed, but... it was clearly something to be grateful for.
I wondered why Dad was speaking so carefully.
Dad said,
"I suppose this is some kind of contract too. It's not just getting a few things for free; you sign with only one brand. You receive sponsorship from them, and according to the contract, you might have to do certain things."
"What do I have to do?"
"Well... during the contract period you might have to use only their products. Maybe you might end up shooting commercials or something..."
At the word "commercials," I nearly spat out the vegetable juice I had been sipping.
The thought of me shooting a commercial—I couldn't help but find it absurd.
"Well, I'm just telling you that there was talk like this. Don't let it weigh on you too much. Anyway, the offer came to you, not me, so I had to let you know."
Perhaps because my reaction had been strong, Dad said hurriedly.
Even in my daze, I sensed from his demeanor that Dad didn't want to burden me.
It was clearly good news, but he was speaking carefully, probably worried that I might find the attention burdensome.
I felt sorry somehow.
Not just now, but Dad must always be mindful of so much.
There must have been many times he couldn't freely enjoy happy moments because he was watching my reaction.
I deliberately spoke in a cheerful voice.
"Then, shouldn't I gratefully accept?"
"Hm? No, it's not something you absolutely have to do. You don't have to-"
"I have to. Where else would a chance like this come from? I can get cleats for free, right? Since it's a contract, do they give you a signing fee too?"
"That's true, but... money isn't what's..."
"It is important."
Dad looked at me, and I shrugged.
"If it weren't important, why would Dad be working so hard?"
"..."
"I wish Dad would come home from work a little earlier."
Saying that, I felt as though I had gone back to being five years old.
"...Then, shall we talk about it when you have time later?"
"Yes."
When I nodded, Dad stroked my head.
That touch was warm.
Even in that moment, on one hand I felt like I had gained something to brag about to Jiwoo, and I almost smiled.