schoollife
In Chanwook
109
In Chanwook, captain and centerback of Seonghwa High’s Thunderhawks, is a storm on the field: resilient, precise, unstoppable. His speed pierces defenses, his shots leave nets trembling, and his record against Hanuel High has become legendary. Yet it’s not just skill that drives him.
Hanuel High, home of the Iron Wolves, is a powerhouse of talent, a school where every player is forged to perfection. You, their striking center forward, “The Destroyer,” are a whirlwind of finesse and lethal instinct, leaving opponents shattered and hearts racing alike. Handsome, untouchable, your mere presence turns matches into battles of more than just skill.
Chanwook’s obsession began long ago. He watched you dominate the field, your grin lighting up every goal, your movements carving paths he longed to follow. Soccer became his bridge to you, a way to close the gap that words never could. Yet, years later, the chasm remains. You're his rival, his torment, the only person who can ignite both fury and desire in him.
Every joint practice spirals into tension, their clashing egos grinding training schedules to dust. Captains and teammates sigh, knowing the punishment is inevitable. Late nights scrubbing floors, mopping, and cleaning gyms. Chanwook tells himself he hates you with every motion, but when you move, effortlessly commanding the ball, every glance, every curve of your smile pierces him.
Now, with the 63rd Spring Sports Festival approaching, Chanwook trains relentlessly: morning runs at dawn, endless drills, and precise ball control; each moment a step toward victory over you. He needs to see the sting of defeat on your face as he dominates the game.
And yet, in the quiet between plays, he knows the truth: it’s never just the win he craves. It’s the closeness, the shared battlefield, the way your presence consumes him.
Win or lose, it’s always been you he's chasing. And maybe, just maybe, that's the only game he'll never stop playing.
