---
Morning sunlight spilled into Jaeven's room, warm and golden, cutting through the faint chill that lingered in the air. The ceiling above him felt unfamiliar—too peaceful after the storm of emotions that had hit him yesterday. His mind flickered back to the match: the roar of the crowd, the sweat, the rush of adrenaline when the ball had kissed the net… twice.
He'd done it.
His debut — and two goals.
For a moment, he lay there in silence, the faint smell of grass still fresh in his senses. His muscles were sore, but it was the kind of soreness that came from doing something meaningful.
Then came the soft knock.
"Jaeven, breakfast is ready!"
It was his mother's voice — warm, melodic, the kind of tone that always made him feel like a child again.
"Coming, Mom!" he called back, dragging himself up.
He dressed simply — a white t-shirt, grey joggers — and walked down the narrow staircase that led to the kitchen.
The aroma of food hit him instantly: omelette, toast, and coffee. But what really made him smile was the scene before him.
Marco Moretti — his father — sat at the table, still wearing his work shirt even on a Sunday morning, a proud but restrained look on his face. He was a man of few words, the type who let his expressions speak louder than any speech could. His thick Italian accent cut through whenever he spoke, the faint remnants of a man who grew up around Milan's rougher football circles.
Han Mirae — his mother — was the opposite. A gentle, emotional woman, her Korean heritage gave her soft features and a naturally caring presence. She had tears in her eyes the moment she saw him.
And then there was Lucia.
His younger sister sat with her elbows on the table, chin resting on her palms, eyes bright with mischief.
"Morning, superstar," she teased with a grin. "Should I start calling you Il Prodigio now?"
Jaeven groaned. "Don't start, Lucia."
She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. "You should've seen Dad during the match — he was yelling at the screen like he was the coach."
"I was encouraging my son," Marco said flatly, though the corners of his mouth curved upward. "And it worked, didn't it? Two goals."
Mirae wiped at her eyes. "We're so proud of you, Jaeven. I still can't believe I saw my baby on TV!"
Jaeven's ears reddened. "It wasn't on TV, Mom… it was a livestream."
"To me, it's the same thing!" she said brightly.
Lucia leaned in, smirking. "So, big bro, does this mean you're famous now? You should've seen the comments online. People were calling your goal 'a miracle touch.'"
Jaeven scratched his head, trying to hide the small smile forming on his lips. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It was just one match."
"One match," Marco repeated, nodding thoughtfully. "But one match can change everything. Especially when you've got the eyes of a coach like Rossi on you."
Jaeven's gaze flickered up. The name still gave him chills — Leonardo Rossi, The Midfield King, and now his new coach. The man who saw something in him that others hadn't.
He didn't say anything for a while, letting the silence fill the air.
---
After breakfast, they moved to the living room. His father flipped through the sports channel, and sure enough — highlights of Virtus Lombardia's win were playing again.
There it was: his goal.
The flick, the acceleration, the shot that sliced through defenders like wind cutting silk.
Even though he'd seen it live, watching it again made his heart race.
Lucia squealed. "There! Look at that face! You look like you're about to cry!"
"I was focused," Jaeven muttered, hiding his embarrassment behind a pillow.
Marco chuckled softly. "Focused, huh? You looked like a lion seeing its prey."
His mother wiped another tear, whispering, "You really looked alive out there."
Those words hit differently. Alive.
Because for most of his past life, he hadn't been.
---
When the highlights ended, Jaeven excused himself to his room. He shut the door behind him, leaned against it, and exhaled deeply.
Then came the chime.
> [System Notice]
Daily Motivation Boost unlocked.
Physical fatigue recovery: +15%
Mental stability increased.
He smiled faintly. Even now, the system hummed quietly in his mind — a reminder that his journey had only just begun.
He sat on his bed and opened his [Status Screen].
---
[Status Screen]
Name: Jaeven Moretti Han
Age: 16
Team: Virtus Lombardia FC
Position: LW / SS
Traits:
Double Foot (A)
Spectral Awareness (S)
Ball Control (S)
Hidden Trait: Locked (??? – "Phantom of the Field")
Stats:
| Attribute | Score | Grade | Note |
|------------|--------|--------|------|
| Speed | 42 | D– | Average youth level pace |
| Agility | 44 | D | Quick on his feet but unrefined |
| Dribbling | 46 | D+ | Promising but lacks fluidity |
| Ball Control | 53 | C | Natural touch showing glimpses of flair |
| Passing | 40 | D | Needs discipline and timing |
| Shooting | 41 | D | Improving, but inconsistent |
| Stamina | 39 | E+ | Not yet fit for full matches |
| Strength | 38 | E+ | Still developing |
| Mentality | 64 | B | High perseverance and focus |
| Willpower | 70 | A | Refuses to break under pressure |
| Charm | 51 | C | Developing presence and growing confidence |
---
Jaeven stared at the screen for a while, his expression unreadable.
It was progress, sure. But still far from where he wanted to be.
> [System Tip]:
"Growth requires rhythm. Train your instincts, not your impatience."
He chuckled. "Yeah, I know. You don't have to sound like a fortune cookie."
Still, the words hit deep.
Patience — that was something he'd lacked in his past life. Maybe this was how he learned it.
---
Later that afternoon, his father called him to the backyard.
There was a small patch of grass behind their modest home, marked with two cones and a rusty goalpost — one Marco had welded together years ago.
"Let's see those touches," Marco said, tossing a ball toward him.
Jaeven blinked. "You're serious?"
"Of course," his father replied, hands on hips. "If I don't make sure you're training right, what kind of father would I be?"
Lucia came out holding a drink, sitting on the porch like she was about to watch a movie. "Go, big bro! Don't embarrass yourself!"
Jaeven sighed but couldn't stop the grin from spreading. He placed the ball at his feet.
The first few touches were awkward — his muscles still sore from the match. But soon, the rhythm returned. Tap. Turn. Step-over. Flick.
His father's eyes lit up. "Better. But keep your knees lower during the first touch — it'll give you more control when you switch feet."
It was strange. Even though Marco wasn't a professional player, his insight was sharp. Maybe that's where Jaeven got his instinct for the game.
"Again," Marco said.
And so they did — for an hour. Just the two of them.
Father and son, chasing the sound of the ball and the echo of shared dreams.
When they finished, Marco placed a hand on his shoulder. "Remember, Jaeven — talent is just the seed. It's the discipline that waters it."
Jaeven nodded silently. "Got it."
---
That night, as the family gathered for dinner, Mirae placed a small cake in front of him.
The icing read: "To our shining star — keep burning bright."
Lucia snorted. "Mom, that's so cheesy."
Mirae stuck her tongue out playfully. "I don't care. My son deserves it."
Even Marco smiled softly, lifting his glass of wine. "To the first of many victories."
"To the first of many," Jaeven repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
He looked around — at his father's quiet pride, his mother's teary joy, his sister's teasing grin — and felt something heavy yet peaceful settle in his chest.
This was his anchor.
His reason for chasing the impossible.
---
Later that night, long after everyone had gone to bed, Jaeven stood by his window, the faint city lights of Lombardia glowing in the distance.
He clenched his fists.
"Virtus Lombardia FC… We'll rise. I'll make sure of it."
> [System Notice]
Motivation Threshold reached.
Temporary buff unlocked: Focus +5 (24 hours).
He smirked faintly. "Guess you're rooting for me too, huh?"
The wind rustled through the curtains, carrying the faint scent of the pitch from miles away.
Tomorrow, training would begin again — and with it, the next step toward greatness.
But for tonight, Jaeven Moretti Han allowed himself a quiet smile.
For once in both lives, he wasn't chasing a dream from afar.
He was living it.
---
Word count: ~1393