Second Half Chapter 44

“It was a joke. If you still feel nauseous after drinking the water, tell the medical team immediately.”

Aaron replied calmly, as if he was now accustomed to Jerim snapping at him, and stood up first. Left alone, Jerim scratched his head awkwardly while pointlessly shaking the bottle that was still half-full. It was because he realized Aaron had remembered he gets motion sickness and gave it to him to soothe his stomach.

He stuffed the water bottle into his bag and got off the bus. The teammates who had disembarked first were not heading straight into the hotel but were looking around the surroundings, constantly pouring out exclamations of admiration.

“Oh, the view is great? It wouldn’t be bad to come here for the next vacation.”

“I’m telling you, the towns along the Mediterranean are definitely pretty.”

“Kkeuu, places like this should be visited with a darling, not with a bunch of guys. Don’t you think so, Aaron?”

At the same time Jesus poked Aaron’s side and joked around, Jerim and Aaron’s eyes met. Aaron curved the corners of his eyes slightly and shrugged.

“Well, I like it even now.”

“You’re from Tabarona, so you probably don’t feel much of a thrill from this kind of scenery, right?”

“That’s true. But it has definitely been a long time since I’ve seen a white sandy beach like this.”

Aaron gazed at the vast white beach stretching out right in front of the hotel. Unlike his eyes that looked like he was in a good mood, his gaze was quietly sunken and somewhat strange, so Jerim reflexively followed Aaron’s line of sight. However, due to the manager’s order to assemble that came just in time, he entered the hotel in a dither without finding the reason for that strange look.

The players, who gathered in the seminar room after only unpacking in their rooms, strengthened their resolve while listening to Manager Verdi’s passionate tactical explanation. After that, without a moment to catch a breath, they finished a tour of the opponent’s stadium and a short training session; by the time they returned to the hotel, it was dinner time again.

Jerim intentionally ate a light dinner and came out to the beach. He tended to try to keep his body as light as possible the day before a match. He figured he could just walk slowly until his stomach settled and then wash up and go to sleep.

The way his feet sank deep into the sand with every step was annoying, but he was facing the sea breeze without taking off his shoes for fear of stepping on a seashell. It was then that he saw a figure in the distance presumed to be Aaron. He had wondered why Aaron got up from the table faster than anyone else; it seemed he had come out first and was strolling along the beach.

‘Should I just go back in?’

It’s awkward when it’s just the two of us… Didn’t I desperately pretend to sleep even on the plane because it was uncomfortable to see his face? But while Jerim was debating whether to leave or not, Aaron was already approaching Jerim’s way.

If he turned his back and ran toward the hotel now, it would be no different from advertising that he was running away because he didn’t want to be alone with him. Jerim had no choice but to stand there with a sour face, but then he spotted Aaron’s bare feet and suddenly shouted.

“Hey, put some shoes on. The match is tomorrow, what if you injure your foot!”

“…That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Aaron stopped approaching and hurriedly put on the slippers he was holding. Jerim peered closely at Aaron’s shoes, wondering if they were for women this time too. Fortunately, they were normal men’s slippers. Aaron, now fully shod, approached closely again and asked.

“Why did you come out?”

“A walk. What about you.”

“Me too. This beach, doesn’t the feeling seem a bit similar to the beach back in Tabarona?”

“The sea is the same everywhere.”

Since both Tabarona and Messina were on the same Mediterranean, it was natural for them to feel similar. Jerim answered apathetically and looked at the sky beyond the horizon. At the edge of the sky near the horizon, traces of the orange sunset still lingered and wavered, but the area around it was being dyed entirely in dark purple.

It’ll be pitch black soon, Jerim thought, when a truly out-of-the-blue question reached him.

“…When you were young, you didn’t read a single literary novel, did you?”

“Why are you picking a fight again? If I haven’t read a single one, then what, are you going to tease me for being an airhead?”

The reason he took a simple question as a provocation was that it was a statement of fact. As Jerim flared up, Aaron chuckled again as if something was funny.

“No, objectively you’re not on the stupid side. I just asked because it seems your sensitivity is all dried up… You didn’t read even one? Really?”

“…I didn’t have time to look at them. Because of training. Training in Korea was incomparably tougher than in Spain.”

The Tabarona youth team’s training intensity was on the tough side, but they had to essentially participate in school classes on weekdays, and weekends—except for match days—guaranteed complete free time. Weekday training also took place only at a level that wouldn’t hinder growth during adolescence.

Compared to that, he had almost no memory of properly taking school classes since elementary school in Korea. He went on to schools that had soccer teams for elementary, middle, and high school, and as is common for schools that pour their energy into sports departments, the teachers did not force sports members to participate in classes.

Go to school and train, go to the academy after school to kick the ball again or play practice matches, and since he only exercised all day long, he would fall asleep during class time, soaked in fatigue. He would often only open his eyes wide during lunchtime to finish his meal and go back out to the field. In his remaining time, he was busy taking English tutoring. So there was no way he had the leisure to read things like books. Jerim hadn’t even finished looking at his textbooks.

When he briefly explained the training system in Korea, Aaron frowned.

“Isn’t that basically abuse?”

“It’s probably changed a bit lately though. My time was a long time ago.”

Even so, Aaron’s expression did not soften. Man, he’d probably faint if I told him about getting hit with a bat by sunbaes or coaches as a form of “admonition.” Even in Europe, a bit of hierarchy exists in sports, but it was nothing compared to Korea.

Was it in 5th grade of elementary school? The memory of ditching training with Yeobin to eat a 300-won slushie that was only sold after school, only to get hit with the bat together, surfaced faintly. Along with the memory of returning home with a battered backside and turning the house upside down saying he didn’t want to play soccer. Toward that Jerim, Aaron suddenly asked.

“Jerim, why did you become a soccer player?”

“Because soccer was what I was best at.”

Jerim answered succinctly. It was what his mother had repeated while crying and hugging Jerim on the day he came home after being hit on the butt and made a mess.

Because you are best at soccer, you must absolutely go down this path. If you do that, a wonderful life incomparable to others will unfold before you. Mom and Dad are sacrificing this much for you, are you going to quit here?

At that time, Jerim had replied that he didn’t know what a wonderful life was, but since he hated seeing his mom cry, he would reluctantly work hard. Now that he’s at this age, he could roughly understand how his mother must have felt. He still doesn’t know if it’s a “wonderful life,” but it’s certain he is living a life without money worries thanks to things working out miraculously, so he wasn’t in a position to complain.

Despite thinking that, for some reason, a surge of irritation welled up at Aaron’s following words.

“What a simple reason.”

“Don’t speak so easily. Guys like you, who can make a career out of it for the sole reason that you like it, are blessed.”

“Blessed? Me?”

“What do you think the probability is of being good at the thing you like?”

“That was only when I was young. Unfortunately, I don’t like soccer itself that much anymore either.”

“Anyway, the fact that you could start for a reason like that is a blessing in itself.”

Furthermore, his nationality is Spanish, his physique is that of a Northern European mixed-race, and his family has close ties with Tabarona FC, known as the most prestigious club—a rich young master with no worries about making a living even if he doesn’t play soccer. His talent for soccer was so overflowing that even the expression “blessed” would be insufficient.

It wasn’t that he was jealous of the conditions Aaron was born with, but he couldn’t help but get heated at the words thrown around without thought by a guy who was born and raised in such a blessed environment. However, he also knew he shouldn’t vent this formless anger toward Aaron.

It was a thought and feeling he could fully harbor alone, but the moment he revealed it outwardly, he would be no different from the pathetic losers who leave malicious comments while intoxicated by an inferiority complex. He didn’t want to fight with a teammate right before tomorrow’s match either. Jerim tried his best to refine his words that were about to turn harsh.

As the atmosphere that was about to overheat gradually cooled, Aaron spoke again. It was evident that he, too, was paying more attention to his tone than at first.