Lunch break... The sun was directly overhead. It was neither scorching nor uncomfortable; a light warmth made the outdoors more livable. The small grassy slope opposite the school's football pitch... was quiet as usual. It was a more peaceful place, away from the noise of the crowd. A light breeze spreading over the grass cooled the area and softened the sounds coming from afar.
Paul and Violet were sitting here again. In their usual spot on the grass... side by side but leaving a natural distance between them. Their lunchboxes were open in front of them. Both were eating their meals.
This time, there was something different accompanying the atmosphere: the sounds from the pitch. The thud of the ball hitting the ground... the sound of feet scuffing the grass... shouts... the sound of running... A match was being played on the football pitch. Two teams were facing each other. One side wore red vests, the other green.
Players were running on the pitch, trying to control the ball, but there was a lack of order in their movements. Coordination was missing. They were playing disconnected from each other. Violet spoke without taking her eyes off the pitch.
"Which team do you think will win?"
Paul was looking at the pitch, but his gaze wasn't attentive. It was more of a superficial observation. Suddenly, he yawned. His eyes closed slightly—a short yawn without covering his mouth—then he returned to normal. He spoke.
"The ones in the green vests will win." His voice was calm. Certain. As if he hadn't given it any thought... but in fact, he had said it without needing to think.
Violet turned her head toward him, her brows lifting slightly. "How can you be so sure?"
Paul looked at the pitch again, but this time his eyes were more focused. He was analyzing every player's movement—their positioning, their running paths, their approach to the ball. He thought to himself:
There's a world of difference between the two teams. A brief analysis... Most likely, those in green are the first team, and the reds are the substitutes. His eyes drifted from one player to another. But the difference between them is only that one is better than the other; in reality, both teams are quite bad.
This thought was clear. Certain. There was no doubt. Paul turned his head toward Violet. "I assume the green team is the first team; that's why I said that."
Violet smiled, but this answer didn't fully satisfy her. "Is that the only reason you said that? I was expecting a long explanation."
Paul turned back to the pitch and gave a slight shrug. "They're not good enough to be worth a long explanation."
The sentence was like a sharp knife—unembellished, direct. Violet's eyes widened slightly. "Wow." A short pause. "That was harsh."
Paul smiled faintly, but the smile wasn't playful. It was more the expression of someone who knew the truth. "It might seem harsh to you, but it's a normal sentence in the football world." His eyes drifted back to the pitch. "If you don't learn to call bad things bad, you'll never improve."
This sentence applied not just to the players on the pitch, but to his own past as well. Violet looked at him—this time with a different gaze. More serious. More thoughtful.
"I think I understand what you mean." A short pause, then she continued. "So, if you get an average score on an exam and are satisfied with it, you stay at the same level. Is that right?"
Paul tilted his head slightly. The analogy was more fitting than he had expected. "An interesting perspective, but you're right."
At that exact moment... something unexpected happened. A football... came flying fast and hit Paul on the head. The sound was clear—short but sharp. Violet started, her eyes wide. The ball hung in the air for a brief moment before slowly falling toward the ground.
And then a voice came from behind them. "I accidentally overheard what you were saying just now."
Paul's expression didn't change. He didn't react at all, as if this situation were ordinary for him. He slowly turned his head and looked back. The boy standing there was striking. He had long black hair and blue eyes. His gaze was sharp, full of self-confidence.
He spoke. "I'm the captain of the team you're criticizing." A short pause. "If you're better than us, come to the pitch and teach us a thing or two."
His voice was challenging but entirely under control. Captain of the high school football team: Marc Davis. Position: Right back.
There was still no change in Paul's face. He maintained his composure. "I didn't say I was better than you."
But in the next moment... his expression changed. His eyes grew sharp, his voice hardened. "I only said you were very bad, that's all!"
This sentence instantly heightened the tension. Marc moved, beginning to walk toward Paul step by step. His steps were heavy but determined. Paul stood up immediately. The two were face to face, only a few steps apart.
Marc spoke. "Tell me where we're bad so I can learn."
Violet had stayed on the sidelines, watching silently, but there was panic on her face. Paul's gaze was steady. "No one even knows where they should be standing." He spoke without hesitation. "Make your team watch some football matches. But tell them to watch to learn something, not just to watch."
Marc said nothing. His face didn't change, but there was something in his eyes. Acceptance... or suppressed anger? Then he turned and walked past Paul, heading toward the ball. Paul looked after him and spoke.
"Since you're their captain, why aren't you on the pitch with them?"
Marc stopped and slowly turned his head. His eyes were cold. "That's none of your business!"
Paul's expression hardened as well. "Then my thoughts are none of your business either."
The two looked at each other for a short while. Silence... but a heavy silence. Then... Marc's expression changed. It softened. "You're right, I apologize." This was an unexpected shift. He continued. "My name is Marc. If you'd like to join the team, please don't hesitate."
Paul adjusted his expression too. "Paul. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested."
Marc didn't say anything else. He took the ball and walked toward the pitch, moving away. Violet took a deep breath, then let herself fall back onto the grass.
"I was so scared! I thought you were going to fight..."
Paul turned toward her slightly and made a gesture with his hand. "I'd never lose in a fight, don't worry."
Violet looked at the sky. "That's a relief..."
Paul looked at the pitch again, his eyes wandering over the players. But this time, his gaze was different. More thoughtful. He thought to himself:
A football team, huh? A short pause. I might consider teaching them something rather than joining.
And in that moment... an idea was born.