All Soccer Talents Are Mine!!

When I was young, my father used to ask me a question during dinner.

"Hoyoung, what’s your dream?"

And I would always answer.

"I want to be a football player. I want to be as great as Park Jiseok."

Then my father would smile and say:

"To become a football player, you need talent. And from what I can see, Hoyoung, you have something special."

That’s right.

At one point, I truly believed my father’s words.

I believed I had a special talent.

Everyone in the neighborhood would say the same thing.

"Hoyoung is a football prodigy. He needs professional training."

It was 2002.

With the aftermath of Korea’s legendary semifinal run in the World Cup, football fever was at an all-time high. I played with the weight of adults’ expectations on my shoulders.

Eventually, I realized the truth.

The idea that I was some kind of football prodigy…

Was nothing more than a ridiculous illusion

3rd grade.

When I joined the school football team, I immediately hit a wall.

There were kids far better than me.

Those who had been professionally trained were on a completely different level.

On top of that, I was small. Before I could even touch the ball, I’d get knocked over again and again.

Then one day, the coach called me over.

"Hoyoung, go train over there separately."

Where he sent me was a group of kids deemed not good enough.

I was scared.

It felt like an insurmountable wall had been placed in front of me.

And just like that, my passion faded. I quit the team as if I were running away.

I gave up.

When I got home, I cried my heart out.

My father comforted me, saying:

"Hoyoung, flowers bloom at different times. Just because a bud sprouts early doesn’t mean the flower will bloom first."

At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant.

I was just relieved to be free from fear. I stuffed my face with seasoned fried chicken that my mom ordered and moved on.

But now, looking back, I feel a lot of things.

What if I hadn’t given up back then?

Did I ever really have talent?

If I had worked hard—truly given my blood, sweat, and tears—would I have bloomed and borne fruit by now?

"Ah, fuck."

"Hey, Hobang, what the hell are you mumbling about? You drunk already?"

A traditional bar with a quiet, nostalgic atmosphere.

Hoyoung, lost in thought, clinked his dented tin cup against that of his elementary school friend, Lee Yongsoo.

"It’s nothing. Anyway, congratulations on your job."

"You already said that. Why are you congratulating me again?"

"When else am I going to do it? Gotta celebrate the good things while we can."

Tonight was about celebrating Yongsoo’s success.

He had just been recruited by a semi-pro football team.

"Tsk."

The alcohol tasted bitter.

It was 2016, and at 24 years old, Hoyoung was just working part-time at a convenience store while his closest friend was moving up in the world. It made his chest feel tight.

‘I wanted to be a football player too…’

That fucking idiot… I shouldn’t have given up.

"Tsk. If you’d kept playing, you’d be on the field with Ronaldo and Messi right now."

"Shut up with that bullshit. If that were true, I’d have won the Ballon d’Or already. Besides, what’s the point of regret? It’s too late."

From elementary school to now, regret had followed Hoyoung like a shadow.

I shouldn’t have let football be just a hobby.

I shouldn’t have run away back then.

It was the greatest regret of his life.

Sure, he had plenty of chances to try again after that.

But every time, he convinced himself it was too late—and so he just kept repeating the same regret.

‘I want to go back. I want to go back to the past. I want to start over… You idiot!’

As Hoyoung was drowning in self-loathing, Yongsoo, who had been fiddling with his phone, suddenly spoke.

"Hey, wanna go kick the ball? Sangho’s looking for two more players for a 4v4 futsal match."

"Right now?"

Outside, rain drizzled down steadily.

But that didn’t matter.

Because Hoyoung was still crazy about football.

"I’m in."

"Yo~ Long time no see!"

Hoyoung greeted his old friends at an outdoor futsal field nearby.

They were the same friends he had played football with since elementary school. But one stood out.

‘That bastard Yoon Jungho isn’t even saying hi.’

Yoon Jungho.

A former player who had once received the Cha Bum-Keun Football Award, proving his exceptional talent.

People used to say he might carry on the legacy of Park Joohyung. But due to an injury, he had to quit football.

He and Hoyoung had clashed several times as kids, so their relationship was strained. And it seemed Jungho still held onto that grudge.

Hoyoung ignored him.

"Hey, it’s raining harder. Why’d you pick this place instead of an indoor field?"

"Indoor’s full. Let’s just get this game started before the rain gets worse."

The match was simple.

4v4, first to 5 goals.

"Hey, Hobang! You’re forward!"

"Got it."

As always, Hoyoung played as the striker.

Even in his father’s football club, he was known as a decent goal scorer.

Though never formally trained, he was above average in terms of stamina and skill.

Still, compared to former players, he was nothing.

"Ack!"

Just as Hoyoung was about to take an open shot, Jungho appeared out of nowhere like lightning and stole the ball.

Then, with a smirk, he scoffed at Hoyoung.

‘That bastard…’

It kept happening.

Jungho would lure Hoyoung into a false sense of security, then use his speed to snatch the ball away.

A predictable trick—but one Hoyoung still couldn’t counter.

Because a former player was on a different level.

Yet Hoyoung welcomed it.

Real football.

‘Yoon Jungho… I’m breaking through you tonight.’

Every time he got blocked, his determination only burned hotter.

Jungho smirked and taunted him.

"What a joke."

Hoyoung clenched his teeth.

And at that moment—

Boom!

Jungho sent a powerful shot aimed right at Hoyoung.

The ball, heavy with spin, struck Hoyoung’s knee and flew out of the field.

Hoyoung, unable to hold back, charged at him.

"Watch your fucking mouth, asshole."

Though only 170cm tall, Hoyoung wasn’t the type to back down from a fight.

Just as a brawl was about to break out, their friends stepped in to separate them.

"Tsk… I’ll let it go. Go get the ball. You kicked it out."

"Tch. Idiot."

Muttering under his breath, Hoyoung walked off to retrieve the ball.

Amid the falling rain, the soccer ball lay alone on the wet ground.

He reached out to grab it without a second thought—

"…?!"

A blinding light flashed before his eyes.

"Gyaaahhh!!"

Boom!

Thunder roared across the city of Seoul.

And just like that—out of nowhere—Hoyoung was struck by lightning and died.

"Aaaaaaahhhhh!!"

Dying from a lightning strike.

He’d heard that about 200 people died from lightning strikes in the U.S. every year.

But for him to die in such a ridiculous way?

Of course, he screamed in frustration.

It was unfair.

He had barely even lived.

"Give me my life back! GIVE IT BACK!"

After shouting for a while, a thought struck him.

"Wait… then where am I?"

The futsal field was gone.

Instead, there was only darkness.

And within that darkness, a pale figure began to appear.

"Heh heh."

A sinister voice whispered in his ear.

"No way… You’re not a demon, are you?"

"You’re quite perceptive."

"…You look the part."

"Indeed. I am Mammon, the demon of greed."

And just like that, Mammon smiled and whispered:

"Would you like to make a deal?"

Ho-Young needed time to calm down.

He couldn't just recklessly make a deal with a demon.

And more than anything, he still couldn't fully believe this situation.

It was quite a while before he finally parted his lips to speak.

"Alright… I'll hear you out first."

"Good. You have two things you can trade with me. First, time. Second, an ability."

Time and an ability.

Mamon then explained those two things in an easy-to-understand manner.

First, time.

"You can rewind time by a minimum of 10 years and a maximum of 23 years—back into the past."

"Oh…"

"But of course, there's a price. Nothing in this world comes for free."

"And what exactly is that price?"

"For each year you go back, you will lose one year of your lifespan. If you choose to rewind 23 years, you will die 23 years earlier in your next life. However, no one knows when they will die in the first place."

"Haha… What a perfectly balanced deal."

Ho-Young nodded without hesitation.

'As long as I don’t end up impotent or bald, it’s fine. Besides, we live in an age where people reach 100. Even if I only make it to 80, I'd rather live short and intense than long and dull…'

Of course, there was no guarantee he’d live to 100, but he chose to think positively.

"Alright, then. What about the second option? What exactly is this ability?"

"I shall grant you my power."

A demon’s power—now that was an enticing offer.

"And what kind of power is that?"

"Greed."

"…Greed?"

"The ability to obtain what you desire."

"…Huh."

Just from hearing it, Ho-Young couldn't quite grasp the concept. It seemed like something he’d have to experience firsthand to understand.

'Whatever the case, it means I can obtain things I covet, right?'

A glint of excitement flashed in Ho-Young’s eyes.

'This isn’t a deal—this is practically a charity giveaway!'

Mamon spoke again.

"Now, tell me. What point in time would you like to return to?"

"Haha… As ridiculous as this all sounds, if this is really happening…"

Ho-Young took a deep breath and answered.

"I want to go back to when I was in third grade."