Second Half Chapter 5

“Boss!”

Standing at the front was Manager Verdi. The dignified Italian, who always dressed in a crisp suit for important matches or events, grinned and hugged Jerim. The scent of strong cologne followed as a bonus.

After that, familiar faces continued to appear one after another. It seemed most of them had come, except for a few starters. Perhaps because they had rested well during the vacation, their skin looked glossy, but their expressions weren’t particularly bright. Likely, they were self-conscious about visiting Korea right after finishing as runners-up in the Champions League.

Ever since the Korea tour was decided, the teammates used to boast that they would definitely step onto his home soil while holding the Big Ear. Furthermore, since several European colleagues had been eliminated early from the Euro that opened last month, or hadn’t been included in their national team call-ups due to reasons like injury, their feelings must have been complicated in many ways.

Lehmann, in particular, looked like someone who had just come from a funeral. Unlike the others, as if he hadn’t been able to rest comfortably even during the break, the skin of the boy who had just turned 22 looked crumbly. Well, it would be stranger if he weren’t distressed, considering he’d be clearly pushed out of the starting lineup from this season due to Aaron’s transfer.

Jerim, silently patting Lehmann’s head, pulled his closest teammate into a shoulder hug as soon as he approached and whispered lowly.

“Will, look at the camera and smile.”

It was a preventative measure, lest they get caught up in some controversy if everyone entered with deathly faces. Although his tone ended up sounding like a thug shaking someone down for money, William faithfully carried out the request.

It was right after they successfully left behind a photo of a bearded guy and Jerim smiling and shaking hands. The camera shutters that had been clicking suddenly erupted into a cha-ra-ra-rak sound in a continuous burst.

Still holding William’s hand, Jerim unnaturally turned his head toward the direction where the cameras were concentrated. Standing there was a striking handsome man, 6.4 feet tall, in a swaggering pose with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

Naturally, the atmosphere was quite different from ten years ago. Not a trace of the boyishness that had faintly remained in Jerim’s memory could be found. Black tattoos were engraved on the forearm revealed by a short-sleeved T-shirt with Sefton’s gold crown logo.

‘As if he doesn’t already look dangerous enough, why on earth did he get so many tattoos like that…’

The moment Jerim frowned, the amber eyes that had been looking around with interest fixed onto Jerim. The slender eyes widened for a split second, then quickly became expressionless. However, the gaze, which felt intense enough to pierce his face, showed no sign of moving elsewhere. Because the iris color was light, the look in his eyes felt even more vivid.

Is that why his nickname became “The Wolf,” because of those eyes? Must be nice, someone else’s nickname is a rat…

Along with that useless envy, he suddenly felt a surge of stubbornness, wondering if this arrogant bastard was picking a staring contest with the captain as soon as he transferred in. Jerim opened his eyes wide and passionately played along with that childish provocation. Without realizing it, he put strength into his hand and squeezed William’s hand, which he was still holding.

William, the innocent victim of this sudden disaster, whispered.

“Let go. I have to go.”

“Don’t go…”

“What are you saying.”

“You’re like a teddy bear, so it’s comforting to hold onto you.”

“Teddy bear? Are you making fun of me for gaining weight right now? You rude fellow.”

William replied with a huffy voice and brushed Jerim’s hand off with heartless coldness. It was just as the discarded hand was vainly sweeping through the air. Aaron, who had approached at some point, snatched the hand that had been abandoned by William. A sturdy strength was transmitted through the grip, as if he wouldn’t forgive being brushed off this time.

“Jerim, it’s been a long time. Have you been well?”

The guy holding his hand with enough force to crush it smiled brightly and asked after him in Spanish. A strong accent was even placed on the words “long time.” Hearing the sarcastic tone that anyone could recognize, Jerim slightly lifted his head and stared fixedly at Aaron’s face.

Ah, I really wasn’t going to fight. But his pride wouldn’t allow him to avoid a fight that was picked first. But why is he picking a fight as soon as we meet? I have more than enough reasons to hate Aaron, but this guy has no particular reason to…

‘No.’

They had fought grandly when he ended his youth life at Tabarona. It wasn’t an end where either party would be remembered fondly. That must be why the guy also unfollowed him back as if he’d been waiting the moment Jerim unfollowed him after being eliminated from the World Cup.

On top of that, just a month or two ago, I cursed and brushed off the hand he reached out when we met for the first time in ten years. It was only natural that his feelings toward me weren’t good either.

Even so, does he have to act like this, and to the captain of the team he now belongs to? Impertinent bastard. Jerim, for whom rubbing shoulders and competing with men his own age had been daily life since childhood, knew that in cases like this, he had to firmly establish the hierarchy. He debated ignoring him for a moment, but then changed his mind.

Because he had promised himself not to act childishly. Furthermore, if he showed he was ignoring him or brushed off his hand again here, there was no telling what kind of articles would be published. It was evident just from how the loud shutter sounds and white flashes exploded like a nuclear blast the moment Aaron grabbed his hand.

“Uh-huh, I’ve been doing well. And you?”

Instead, he smiled brightly back while gripping the guy’s hand as if he would crush it just the same. He intentionally replied in English. If you transferred to an English club, use English, you bastard. Since he knew he spoke English well enough anyway, he wasn’t worried about him not understanding.

Sure enough, Aaron, who understood immediately, covered his mouth with his free hand and whispered lowly.

“I’ve always been the same. Winning the league every time, lifting the Big Ear. Occasionally winning the Ballon d’Or.”

“The preamble is damn long. Why don’t you go on and on about Spain winning the last World Cup too.”

“That would be a bit… too obnoxious. I feel bad discussing the World Cup in front of you.”

“For once you’re showing some conscience. Ah, congratulations on the Euro quarterfinal elimination… I mean, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was bad luck. I’m also sorry that Korea didn’t win the Asian Cup last year.”

He’s become quite a piece of work while I wasn’t looking.

To be honest, I was slightly flustered. Jerim, who had inadvertently thought of the old Aaron, checked the man before him again—whose tone and atmosphere had both changed completely—and shook off the old memories. They say ten years can change even mountains and rivers, so there was no rule saying the guy couldn’t change. In fact, it would be weirder if he were exactly the same as before.

‘But what gave this son of a bitch the right to be so damn confident…’

However, feeling this way was inevitable. He really should have finished with a more decent “ending of a beautiful end.”

He wanted to reply with a string of curses but held back, thinking of the surrounding eyes. Anyway, in the eyes of the reporters, it would only look like a heartwarming scene of two people reuniting after ten years, smiling and whispering to each other; he didn’t particularly want to break that illusion.

As if he felt the same way, Aaron, who didn’t even blink at the pouring flashes, suddenly pulled Jerim into a hug. It was a move very much conscious of the cameras.

“Let’s try to do well again from now on, Jerim.”

“…Sure. Welcome to Sefton. And to Korea.”

While thumping the guy’s back hard enough to hurt, he intentionally shouted loud enough to fill the airport. It was to put an end to the rumors of discord that had reignited as soon as news of Aaron’s transfer broke. Jerim held high the hand he had joined with Aaron’s, shook it creakily as if to show off, and then walked quickly.

Only after boarding the bus with dark tinting could he escape from thousands of pairs of eyes. When he found an empty seat and sat down, Aaron, who had been standing behind Jerim, naturally sat next to him. Jerim, too tired to carry out any more psychological warfare, immediately put on an eye mask.

From preparing to go to the airport since morning, to being crowded by reporters, to having a sudden nerves-war with Aaron. A brief moment of freedom had been granted during a day of constant suffering. When he closed his eyes inside the dark fabric, an indescribable peace flooded in. It was a sense of stability that made him instantly forget who was sitting next to him.

“Even the eye mask looks like it was made specifically to piss someone off…”

Fortunately, Aaron didn’t go so far as to mock him by waking a person who was sleeping (or pretending to). He simply let out that kind of monologue and radiated a vibe throughout his entire body that he was very displeased. Jerim briefly considered explaining that this puffy frog-eyed mask was a gift from a fan, but he ignored him because he didn’t want to mix words.