The Eternal Era dorms buzzed that evening with the noise of players reviewing footage from their second match. Jason had told them to rest, to clear their minds before preparing for the next opponent. But Dante couldn't shake the heaviness pressing down on his chest.
Two matches. No wins. A debut goal that meant nothing in the end.
He needed air. More than that—he needed her.
So he slipped out quietly, hoodie pulled low, and made his way through the neon-lit streets of the capital. His footsteps carried him instinctively to the one place where victory and failure both lost their meaning.
His mother's apartment.
The door clicked open after three soft knocks.
"Dante," Sang-hee's voice, warm as ever, filled the narrow hall. She stood wrapped in a light sweater, her hair tied up carelessly. Her smile was soft, but behind it he caught the faint shadow under her eyes.
