Meanwhile.
Devon, of course, was rooting for the first-years.
That was a given.
But still, a teacher couldn't openly take sides…
'Wait, why not?'
It wasn't like he was a referee or anything.
The first-years had reached out for help, so what was wrong with showing a little favoritism?
'If they don't like it, they can fire me.'
With that bold thought, Devon strode confidently into the teachers' office.
Since it was Saturday, there weren't many people around.
Might as well kick back and watch Queensman, then head out around game time.
But just then—
"Huh?"
A shopping bag caught Devon's eye.
W-Wait, was that Ultimate?
And it was sitting right on top of his desk…
'No way, this is for me?'
There was no one around to chase him off, but still—
Swoosh.
Like a leopard, Devon darted forward and snatched the shopping bag.
Inside, a specially made 4XL rugby shirt sat proudly.
A note was included as well.
Oh. My. God.
An Ultimate x Gucci collab? That alone guaranteed it would be impossible to get, but now—what?!
They were giving one to the coach?!
'Totally worth playing favorites!'
Grinning in pure joy, Devon yanked off his shirt without hesitation.
Then, he grabbed the rugby shirt.
"Ooooh!"
The fit was incredible, as expected.
"Why is it so soft?"
Even the material was on another level.
Seriously, what kind of luxury was this, all thanks to the kids?
Just as Devon's grin was stretching ear to ear—
Murmur, murmur.
A commotion started outside the teachers' office.
Moments later—
Knock, knock.
A brief knock, then suddenly, a flood of people burst into the room.
"You're the rugby club's advisor, correct?"
"The first- and second-year match is gaining massive media attention. What's the students' reaction?"
"Some see this as a showdown between Grosvenor and Harris. Has there been any internal conflict at school?"
"What are your thoughts on today's game?"
A barrage of reporters' questions came all at once.
Devon, as was his nature, only responded to the ones that caught his ear.
"If I had to bet my entire fortune, I'd put it all on the first-years."
"T-That much of a skill gap?"
Not really.
'Not like my entire fortune is worth much anyway.'
Might as well place a friendly bet now that he got an Ultimate out of it!
"The first-years will definitely win!"
As Devon boldly declared his prediction, cameras flashed from every direction.
***
We had gathered in the locker room early.
We weren't even an official rugby team.
It wasn't like we needed a locker room.
'But we do need to change.'
Thanks to Faber's preparation, each locker held a large Boston bag inside.
"…Wait, are these for us?"
"You think they'd hand them out and then take them back?"
"But it's Gucci… They're just giving these away?"
"Didn't you see The London Times takeover? If they were gonna be stingy about a few bags, they'd just hang up some banners instead of buying out the newspaper's entire front page."
"Oh? There's clothes inside too?"
But the conversation ended there.
Jack, looking like a soldier heading into battle, set the mood.
"Get changed. Now."
Soon after—
Once we were all dressed, the team naturally gathered around me.
At some point, I had gotten used to this.
"There'll be a lot of cameras outside. The crowd will be massive too."
But that didn't change anything.
"Don't get nervous. Just focus on the fact that we worked way harder than them."
"..."
"Trust the sweat we've shed. We can do this, right?"
No one needed to answer.
I reached out my hand first.
One by one, my teammates stacked theirs on top.
The last to place his hand was Tennessee.
"One, two—!"
With my lead—
"LET'S GO!"
Our voices rang out loud and strong.
***
Pre-game, on the field.
The number of cameras had multiplied compared to yesterday.
"FIRST-YEARS, FIGHTIIIIIING!"
"FIRST-YEARS, CRUSH THEM!"
Cheers erupted from all around.
But completely unfazed—
Calmly, Carl called his teammates over.
"If Park Ji-hoon gets the ball, take him out. No exceptions."
"...!"
"I don't just mean shut him down. I mean make sure he can't walk off the field."
Carl's eyes burned with cold fury.
If the match ended and Park Ji-hoon was still standing?
Then someone else would be paying the price.
Sensing that, Ralph hesitated before cautiously speaking up.
"But… with this many cameras around…"
"You idiot."
"…Huh?"
"That's your alibi."
"A-Alibi?"
"With all these cameras, who's gonna believe we deliberately fouled him?"
It was the ultimate twisted logic.
"..."
But since when had Carl ever backed down from his own orders?
Ralph had no choice but to nod along.
"Defense is one thing, but what about our attack strategy?"
"Who needs strategy?"
"…Huh?"
"If you get the ball, pass it to me. I am the strategy."
Right then—
A commotion broke out near the stands.
Soon after, the sound of cameras clicking filled the air.
"KYAAAAAAAAA!"
"TENNESSEEEEEEEEEE!"
The moment the first-years stepped onto the field, the crowd exploded.
Tch.
Not only were they decked out in full Ultimate gear, but they were also carrying massive bags.
"TENNESSEE, YOU LOOK AMAZING!"
Here came the main character.
As the entire stadium focused on Tennessee—
Carl Bernstein's eyes were locked on one person.
Park Ji-hoon.
The guy casually walking behind Tennessee.
So this was all your doing, huh?
'Fine. I'll break you today.'
Crunch.
Carl clenched his teeth, his fighting spirit blazing.
***
The moment the game started, Ultimate's new collection would drop in Gucci stores.
They had to sell 50,000 units of a single item—each one costing more than a month's salary.
No, just selling them wouldn't be enough.
They needed to cause a sensation.
They had to make Gucci shareholders see hearts in their eyes every time they heard the word Ultimate.
And for that to happen—
'We have to win this in style.'
Motivation? More than enough.
I quickly turned my head and looked toward the bench, where Devon was sitting.
"If you avoid physical contact, you're no student of mine!"
Yeah, yeah. As expected.
That aside—
The rugby shirt he was wearing… Even though it was made in an extra large size, it still looked a bit tight.
'Did he gain even more muscle?'
Tsk.
I turned my gaze back.
Tennessee stood expressionless, waiting for the whistle.
The moment our eyes met, he quickly looked away.
'With Tennessee covering my back…'
I could focus entirely on the attack.
Just as I steeled my resolve, the referee called the team captains over.
That brought me face-to-face with Carl at the center of the field.
"The first-years will start on offense in the first half. The second-years will have the kickoff in the second half."
Carl didn't even pretend to listen, his glare locked onto me in an intense stare-down.
Did he think we were stepping into an MMA ring or something?
"Minor fouls will be resolved through scrums. But if the play gets too rough, you may receive a two-minute suspension."
Even as the referee spoke, Carl kept provoking me with his eyes.
'So dramatic.'
Once the rule explanation was done—
"Take your positions."
The referee handed me the ball.
Then, after glancing at both teams, he gave the signal.
Hoo…
As cameras flashed between both sides—
Beep!
The whistle blew, and the game began.
Thump.
I passed the ball to Leo.
Immediately—
Rumble!
The opponents rushed in aggressively.
They were trying to establish dominance right from the start.
A solid plan, sure.
But even their key defender, Ralph, was pushing up?
'Then who's covering the backline?'
Leo seemed to have the same thought.
A quick glance—
Before anything else, he checked my position.
Dash!
Meanwhile, Ralph was already charging at him at terrifying speed.
In the past, Leo probably would've panicked and blindly passed the ball away.
But now—
Tap!
He swiftly sidestepped to create some space.
"..."
After another quick check of my position—
Whoosh.
He passed the ball at the perfect timing.
A level of composure that would've been unimaginable a month ago.
And that wasn't all.
Dash!
Leo immediately sprinted to my opposite side, positioning himself to receive a return pass if needed.
That forced one of the defenders to follow him, creating an opening.
Because of that—
Tap.
I received the ball on the flank, in a relatively open position.
Was it just my imagination?
The moment I caught the ball—
"...!"
The opponents' expressions instantly froze.
Their eyes held the same grim determination as bomber pilots about to take off.
And then—
"Get him!"
This time, they came charging at me.
With no chance for a forward pass, they were going all in.
"If you avoid physical contact, you're no student of mine!"
Recalling my teacher's words—
Dash!
I plunged straight into enemy territory.
Right from the start—
Bang!
I smashed shoulders with one defender, knocking him down.
Flash!
Then came a flying tackle—
Grip!
I grabbed the opponent's shoulder and withstood it effortlessly.
Two players taken out in an instant.
'Wait… is he really a first-year?'
'What kind of freshman is this?'
Shock filled their eyes.
Too late to be surprised now.
Weren't these the same guys who barged into my class room, shouting, "So you're Park Ji-hoon?!"
'I remember every single one of you.'
Without hesitation—
Dash dash dash!
I tore through their defense.
"Stop him!"
Ralph came charging at me with a roar.
His massive frame was intimidating, no doubt.
But come on—
My practice partners were way scarier.
Boom!
Ralph came in hard, leading with his shoulder.
Though technically a shoulder charge, it was basically a full-body slam.
Wobble.
Of course, I staggered slightly.
'This is nothing.'
I immediately regained my balance.
Then—
Flash!
Another tackle flew at me.
If both my feet had been off the ground, it might've been trouble.
But—
'You're tackling when my feet are firmly planted?'
Predictably, the angle was off.
It was aimed too high—above the waist.
A deliberate foul to stop me at any cost!
'Not a chance.'
Grip.
I grabbed the back of Ralph's neck.
Fake right!
Pretending to dash to the right—
Flip!
Instead, I hurled him in the opposite direction.
Just as I was about to break through again—
"...!"
A fierce figure blocked my path.
Carl Bernstein.
His expression was pure murder.
'Everything is your fault!'
His eyes practically screamed those words.
'My perfectly fine life started falling apart… all because of you!'
A killing intent so strong it made my hair stand on end.
At that moment, I knew for sure.
His goal wasn't defense.
As expected—
Flash!
He lunged at me like he wanted me dead.
His target—my knee.
Specifically, my ACL.
Ah, I see how it is.
I instantly dropped the ball to the ground.
Then—
Thud.
I took a giant step forward.
If Carl had actually been trying to intercept the ball, he would've adjusted his body to block the pass.
But his eyes never left my knee.
Flash!
He extended his tackle with reckless abandon.
A dirty hit disguised as defense!
I didn't back down.
Boom!
Instead, I swung my foot and slammed the ball.
'You really are naturally talented, huh?'
Using the ankle strength even Steve acknowledged—
Wham!
I unleashed a brutal shot.
Whoosh!
To my own surprise, the ball—
"...!"
—rocketed straight into Carl's face.
Smack!
A direct hit.