Three Years Ago – U18 International Invitational, Tokyo
The sun baked the artificial turf as two teams faced off, tension crackling in the air. On one side: Nei, playing for the England U18s. Calm, methodical, surgical in his play.
On the other: Chon Bayek, the South Korean prodigy. Quick, explosive, unpredictable.
They were drawn to each other from the first whistle. Every time Nei touched the ball, Chon was there to press. Every time Chon ran with it, Nei cut across his path like a phantom.
But it wasn't just about football.
It was personal.
Nei still remembered the words before the match, that arrogant grin on Chon's face.
"You're good," Chon had said. "But you play like you're scared to break something."
"And you play like you've got something to prove," Nei shot back.
The game had been war. Sliding tackles, no-look passes, shoulder clashes that left both of them bruised. In the 89th minute, it was 2–2. The ball fell to Nei at the top of the box. He turned, shot—
Blocked. Chon had tracked all the way back.
Then, in added time, Chon countered. Blistering pace. Cut inside. Fired.
Goal.
South Korea 3 – England 2.
When the whistle blew, Nei hadn't moved. He just stared at Chon as the boy sprinted to his teammates, roaring.
That moment stuck.
Not because Nei lost—but because Chon made sure he remembered. That smug wink during the handshake. The headline the next day:
"Bayek Shines Brighter Than English Starlet in Thriller."
Present Day – Halftime, Tunnel
Back in the present, Nei sat on the bench, soaked in sweat. It was 0–0, but Bavaria were hammering them.
As the team gathered around the coach for instructions, Nei's eyes drifted to the stands again.
Chon wasn't clapping.
Wasn't smiling.
Just staring.
Like he was waiting.
And Nei knew—it wasn't just a game anymore.
It was the rematch.