When I was young, my father used to ask me something during dinner from time to time.
"Ho-young, what's your dream?"
I answered, "I want to be a football player. I want to become a great player like Park Ji-sung."
Then my father would smile and say,
"To become a football player, you need talent. And from what I've seen, our Ho-young has something special."
He was right.
At one point, I really believed what my father said.
That I was gifted.
Even the people in our neighborhood all said the same thing.
"Ho-young is a football prodigy. You should train him professionally."
It was 2002.
During the feverish days following Korea's legendary semifinal run in the World Cup, interest in football was at an all-time high. I became one of those kids who carried all the adults' hopes as I chased the ball around the field.
But later, I realized something.
That being called a football prodigy was nothing more than a hollow illusion.
When I joined the football club in third grade, I felt a massive wall in front of me.
There were kids far better than me.
Kids who had received professional coaching, at a level I couldn't even compare to.
On top of that, I was small. I would get knocked over before I could even touch the ball.
Then one day, the coach said to me,
"Ho-young, go over there and train separately."
That group was where all the underperforming kids were sent.
I was scared.
It felt like an insurmountable wall was blocking my path.
My passion faded, and I quit the team like I was running away.
I gave up.
When I got home, I cried my eyes out.
My father comforted me and said,
"Ho-young, every flower blooms in its own time. Just because a sprout comes up early doesn't mean the flower will bloom early too."
At the time, I didn't understand what he meant.
I just felt relieved that I no longer had to face my fears. I brushed it off as I gnawed on the seasoned fried chicken my mother had bought me.
But now, looking back, I feel so much more.
What if I hadn't given up back then?
Did I really have talent?
If I had worked myself to the bone, would I have finally bloomed and borne fruit?
"Damn it."
"Hey, Ho-bbang, what's with you muttering to yourself? Are you drunk already?"
A cozy traditional pub.
Lost in thought, Ho-young clinked his dented bowl-shaped cup against that of his old elementary school friend, Lee Yong-soo.
"It's nothing. Anyway, congratulations on the job."
"You already congratulated me earlier."
"Well, when else would I get to celebrate? You've got to say it as much as you can when good things happen."
They were there to celebrate Yong-soo's achievement.
The guy, who still played football, had just been recruited by a semi-professional team.
"Haa..."
The alcohol tasted bitter.
It was 2016, and at twenty-four, he was just working part-time at a convenience store. Seeing his best friend move up in the world made his chest feel tight for no clear reason.
"I wanted to be a football player too..."
Damn it. I shouldn't have quit back then.
"If I'd kept playing, I'd be playing alongside Ronaldo and Messi by now."
"Yeah, right. Don't talk nonsense. In that case, I'd already have a Ballon d'Or, idiot. What's the point of regretting it now? It's too late."
From elementary school to now, Ho-young had always lived with regret.
He should've never let football end as just a hobby. He should've never run away back then.
It was a lifelong regret.
Of course, there had been chances to try again later.
But each time, the thought that it was already too late stopped him.
"I want to go back. Back to the past. I want to start over... Damn it!"
While Ho-young was cursing himself internally, Yong-soo, who was fiddling with his phone, suddenly spoke up.
"Hey, want to go kick the ball around? Sang-ho said they're short two players. 4-on-4 futsal."
"Right now?"
He looked outside. It was raining steadily.
But it didn't matter.
Ho-young was crazy about football.
"Sure, I'm in."
"Yo, long time no see!"
When Ho-young arrived at a nearby outdoor futsal field, he greeted his old classmates.
They were all kids he used to play with since elementary school, but one of them immediately caught his attention.
'That jerk, Yoon Jung-ho, not even saying hi.'
Yoon Jung-ho.
A former player, talented enough to have once won the Cha Bum-kun Football Award.
People used to say he might follow in the footsteps of Park Joo-hyung, but his career ended due to injury.
He and Ho-young had clashed several times in the past, and it seemed Jung-ho still held a grudge.
Ho-young decided to just ignore him.
"Hey, it's raining harder. Why didn't you book an indoor court?"
"They're all full. Let's play quickly before it gets worse."
The match started right away.
The rule was simple: 4-on-4, first to 5 goals wins.
"Hey, Ho-bbang! You're up front!"
"Okay."
As always, Ho-young played as the striker.
Even in his father's amateur football club, he was known as a reliable goal-getter.
He'd never trained professionally, but both his stamina and technique were above average.
He could hold his own in most games.
But against a former professional, he didn't stand a chance.
"Argh!"
Just as Ho-young created a clear scoring chance, Jung-ho appeared out of nowhere and intercepted the ball like lightning.
Then he smirked, curling one corner of his mouth in mockery.
'That bastard...'
The same thing happened again and again.
Jung-ho deliberately left space open, then used his speed to steal the ball every time.
It was predictable, but impossible to stop.
A former pro was on another level.
But Ho-young actually welcomed this.
Real, competitive football.
'Yoon Jung-ho, today I'll break through you no matter what.'
The more his attacks were blocked, the more determined he became.
Seeing that, Jung-ho taunted him openly.
"Pathetic level of play."
Ho-young sneered.
And then, suddenly.
Thud!
Jung-ho fired the ball straight at Ho-young.
The spinning ball struck his knee and bounced out of the pitch.
Unable to hold it in, Ho-young charged at him.
"Don't mess with me, you jerk!"
Though only 170 cm tall, Ho-young had never been the type to back down.
As the situation threatened to turn into a fight, the others quickly stepped in to stop them.
"Sigh... Fine, I'll let it go. Go get the ball. It went out off your leg."
"Idiot."
Muttering under his breath, Ho-young walked off to retrieve the ball.
Through the falling rain, the ball lay there alone.
Just as he reached out to grab it.
"...?!"
A blinding flash of light erupted.
"Aaaaargh!!"
Boom!
Thunder roared across the Seoul night sky.
And just like that, Ho-young was struck dead by lightning.
"Aaaaaaaaah!"
Killed by lightning.
He had once heard that about 200 people in the U.S. died every year from lightning strikes. And now, he had become one of those impossible statistics. Of course, he screamed in outrage.
It was unfair.
He hadn't even done anything with his life yet.
How could someone die so suddenly?
"Give it back! Give me my life back!!"
After crying for a while, a question popped into his head.
"Then... where am I?"
The futsal pitch was gone.
All that remained was a pitch-black void.
And then, through the darkness, a faint, pale figure began to take shape.
"Hehehe."
A chilling voice whispered in his ear.
"Don't tell me... you're a demon or something?"
"How perceptive."
"Well... you look like one."
"Correct. I am the demon of greed. People call me Mammon."
Just like that, Mammon appeared and whispered.
"How about making a deal with me?"
"..."
Ho-young needed time to think.
He couldn't just jump into a deal with a demon.
And more than that, he could hardly believe what was happening.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"Let's hear it first."
"Good. You can make two kinds of deals with me. First, time. Second, power."
Time and power.
Mammon explained both clearly.
First, time.
"You can turn back the clock. A minimum of ten years, up to a maximum of twenty-three. You can return to the past."
"Oh..."
"But, of course, there is a price. Nothing in this world comes for free."
"What's the price?"
"For every year you go back, you lose one year of your lifespan. If you go back twenty-three years, you will die twenty-three years earlier in your next life. However, no one knows when exactly you will die."
"Haha... what perfect balance."
Ho-young nodded readily.
'As long as it's not something like impotence or baldness, I'm fine. Besides, it's the age of longevity, right? Living a short but intense life until eighty doesn't sound so bad...'
Of course, there was no guarantee he'd live that long, but he decided to think positively.
"Then what's the second one? The power?"
"I will grant you my ability."
A demon's ability. It was an enticing offer.
"What kind of ability?"
"Greed."
"Greed?"
"The power to obtain what you desire."
"Hmm..."
Just hearing it wasn't enough to understand. He would have to experience it firsthand.
'Still, if it lets me obtain something I desire... that's basically a free gift!'
Ho-young's eyes gleamed.
'This isn't a deal, it's a charity donation!'
Mammon spoke again.
"Now then, tell me. Which point in time do you wish to return to?"
"Haha... It sounds crazy, but if this is really true, then I..."
(To be continued.)
This is the start of our new football fic. Hopefully, you'll all stick with it until the end, like SWR, because this is also a really good book. Looking forward to your support.
Special thanks to DragonnX for providing the full RAW for this : )