Another day had passed. The ordinary flow of the school continued, but... there are some moments... that look ordinary from the outside... but are actually the beginning of something. Today was such a day.
It was lunch break. The sun was at its zenith. Its light was sharp but not scorching. A light breeze wandered across the pitch, making the grass ripple. There was activity on the sidelines. The football team... was doing warm-up exercises. Runs... stretching... short passes with the ball... Everything was progressing in a certain order.
But this order... looked incomplete from the outside. And there was someone who noticed that deficiency: Paul. This time, with Violet by his side... he wasn't on the slopes opposite the pitch. They were right by the sidelines. Much closer... they were watching everything from a much clearer angle.
Paul had his arms lightly folded. His gaze was locked onto the pitch. He was examining every move. Every mistake... every shortcoming... he was analyzing it as if reading a book. Finally, he spoke.
"Are they going to play a match among themselves again?" A short pause. He sharpened his gaze a bit more. "It's obvious why they're bad."
The sentence was quiet but heavy. Standing next to him, Violet... was looking at the pitch. But not like Paul. There was no analysis in her gaze; there was worry. Her brows were slightly furrowed. She brought her hands together.
And she spoke. "Are you sure you want to do this?" She continued without taking her eyes off the players. "They all look very tough."
Paul's lips curled up slightly. It was a smile, but there was mockery in it. He tilted his head slightly. "Tough?" He took a short breath. "I see nothing but kids."
Those words... drew Violet's attention directly to Paul. She turned her face to him and raised her brows. "Aren't you a kid too?"
A moment of silence... then a wide grin formed on Paul's face. "Hahaha." He threw his head back slightly. "You're right."
This short dialogue... showed the natural ease between them. But on the pitch... another story was beginning. Marc was also on the pitch. He was doing warm-up exercises along with the other players on the team. His movements were a bit more controlled than the others. More disciplined. More conscious.
Just then... another player from the team approached him. He leaned in slightly, standing next to Marc. And he spoke. "Marc, there are people watching us." He gestured slightly toward the sidelines with his head. "Do you know them?"
Marc stopped his movement. He slowly turned his head. His gaze drifted to the edge of the pitch, and he saw them: Paul and Violet. A brief expression of recognition formed in his eyes. Then his lips moved slightly. "So he came." He turned to the player next to him. "Yes, I know them." A short pause. "I invited him."
Following these words... Marc began to walk. His steps were determined. He was advancing toward the edge of the pitch. Meanwhile, Violet... noticed him coming. Her eyes widened. She took a step back; panic was clearly reflected on her face.
"The boy you argued with is coming toward us." She quickly turned her head to Paul. "He won't get angry again, right?"
Paul's expression didn't change. Calm... controlled... even a bit indifferent. "Don't worry, nothing will happen." Then he looked at Violet and gave a small smile. "If Marc allows what I want to do." A short pause. "I'll score a goal for you."
That sentence... caught Violet off guard. Her eyes opened slightly. "What you want to do?" She furrowed her brows. "Like fighting?"
Paul's face suddenly turned into a blank expression. He looked at her without blinking. "Did you not hear my last sentence? Or are you making fun of me?"
Just then... Marc had gotten very close. The distance between them had almost closed. He stopped and spoke directly. "Did you come to join the team?"
Paul turned his head. They locked eyes. "No." But that answer... wasn't the end. A slight smile appeared on Paul's face. "But let me show you firsthand how bad you are."
The sentence... changed the tone of the atmosphere. Marc raised his brows slightly. He couldn't make sense of it. "And how is that going to happen?"
Paul shifted his eyes to the pitch, scanning the players. Then he spoke. "Let me go one-on-one against the best defender on your team." He took a step forward. "If he can take the ball from my feet even once, I'll admit you're good."
There was a silence. Marc paused for a moment... then... he suddenly burst out laughing. The sound spread across the pitch. Other players turned to look. Marc was laughing—long... uncontrollably. Finally, his laughter subsided. He wiped a tear from his eye.
"I figured you were crazy." He took a breath. "But even this was too much for me." Then he spoke again. "I accept your request." His gaze hardened. "I hope you're as good as your words."
He turned around and began walking toward the players. Meanwhile, Violet... let out a deep breath. "Ugh." She shook her head from side to side. "Somehow, you managed to make me worry again." Then she looked at Paul, scanning his outfit. "Can you play comfortably in school clothes?" She furrowed her brows. "And you don't have cleats."
Paul began walking toward the pitch. His steps were slow but determined. "I can win against them even without the things you mentioned." He turned his head slightly. "You just watch me."
Violet sighed. "No matter what I say, you're not going to stop, are you?" Then she smiled slightly. "Good luck."
Paul entered the pitch. Now he was completely in the game. Marc had explained the situation to the players. Suddenly... all eyes turned to Paul. The tension was palpable. There was anger in the players' eyes. But Paul... stayed calm. He thought to himself:
This is how a footballer should look.
Marc went to a player's side, put his arm around his shoulder, and looked at Paul. "This is your opponent." A short pause. "The best defender on our team."
This player... was tall. He was strong. Physically impressive. Paul examined him carefully. And spoke. "Great, that's exactly what I wanted." Then he smiled. "In that case, let's begin."
Positions were taken. Paul... ball at his feet... stood a bit away from the penalty area. His opponent before him... the goalkeeper in the net... everything was ready. Marc called out from behind. "You can start whenever you want, Paul."
And in that moment... Paul didn't wait. He dribbled the ball directly toward his opponent. The boy was surprised; he wasn't ready. But Paul... had already approached. The boy immediately took a position—knees bent, balance set.
Paul pulled the ball to his right. It looked like he was going to shoot. The boy extended his left foot, blocking the path of the ball. He thought to himself:
Your only strength was your courage against us!
But at that moment... Paul moved in an instant. He got under the ball, flicked it forward, and... suddenly accelerated. He went past the boy's right side. As if... he wasn't even there. The boy froze. "What?"
Paul was moving fast, toward the goal. The boy ran after him, but... the gap was growing. This kid. How is he so fast?
Paul approached the penalty area. The goalkeeper came out, closing the angle. He was ready. Paul looked like he was going to shoot. The keeper thought to himself:
I've covered every spot. Shoot and let's see.
But... Paul didn't shoot. He suddenly chipped the ball. The ball rose, passing over the goalkeeper. The keeper could only watch. The ball... slowly... entered the net. Goal.
Silence fell. Paul turned and looked directly at Violet. He pointed at her and smiled. "I told you I'd score a goal for you."
Violet... blushed. She looked away and murmured: "You dummy..."