Goal! Extended Version

Shanghai Yellow

Formation 4,3,2,1

ST - Sun Tzu *Main Character* LB - Qui

CAM - Mao *Captain*. LCB - Lee

CAM - Yoshou RCB - Wei

CM - Haifang. RB - Liu

CM - Goe. GK - Gajou

CDM - Han

Shanghai Black

Formation - 2,4,3,1

ST - Gin. CDM - Kiev GK - Chen

LW - Shun CDM - Chiao

RW - Ryungo*captain*. CM - Toji

CAM - Tendai. CB - Taijo

CM - Fushong CB - Reji

Chapter 1: Reprieve

During one of the most eventful nights of the year, on the 1st of February 2018, the eager fans could be spotted under the moonlight—the grey clouds gazing down upon the masses with envy. The fans were scrambling into the huge stadium from various entrances, some with food in hand, others clenching instruments and trinkets which would surely be put to good use in the upcoming game. China’s most promising young footballers, representing two different provinces, about to go head to head in the most anticipated youth game in China—no, dare I say, the World! That year, it was gracefully hosted by the coastal city of Shanghai—the largest city in China, and an economic powerhouse worldwide. The tournament's prestige has risen exponentially during the last eighteen years. The publicity from the final game was widely sought after, so the competition between potential hosts was fierce, I think, in previous years, other cities like Beijing and Hong Kong had the honour of hosting the tournament final. The event did have humble beginnings, with the tournament being hosted in the smaller city of Taizhou in the year 2000; a young business prodigy, Nikolon. funded the small tournament, and with his ingenious marketing scheme of the generic four team tournament, which he called "Zen," he somehow made it a huge success, attracting a lot of attention from Shanghai especially, thus, it continued to evolve to its current stage, which now includes the "entrance course"—a system which was in its infancy at the time and not used till 2007.

By 2018, even with all the expansion of the training academies, the final deciding game was still, by far, the most highlighted part of the tournament. However, unlike in the past, it was merely the tip of the iceberg and gave an incomplete representation of the whole tournament. What made this competition fundamentally revolutionary in the world was not the large stadiums, modern technology, and fervent fanbase—although those did help—it was the unusual period of learning before the actual playing, which was technically still a part of the tournament. The uniqueness of this system, designed specifically to train young players, took the earth by storm. The foresightedness of Nikolen was apparent, and his creativity was recognised by many professional footballers and even large football associations. Why, you ask?

Well, to briefly explain: There were few, if any, Football Academies in China, but quite a lot of talent in the country, which boasted the largest population in the world and the greatest draw factor—no dominant football organisation has been able to take root here, with government regulation, meaning...no competition and plenty of dormant customers. Nikolon being an ambitious and driven 17-year-old, decided to use his vast inheritance and succeed where many others have failed. However, while Nikolon was metaphorically frothing at the mouth, he understood that, if he just hastily gathered the best talent and made them play in a standard tournament, it would not be extremely successful. The players wouldn't know enough about team tactics, formations, structure, and would lack chemistry. There would be teams of individuals doing their own thing, playing their own football, which of course, in a team sport, is laughably stupid at a professional level. They need...the opportunity to learn, he thought to himself

Thus for the first three generic “Zen” tournaments, he personally went searching the provinces near Shanghai and Beijing for promising players with the right attitudes to compete. He spent little money on himself, living in a caravan and roaming the lands. During these times, he focused his finances to the construction of four small academies and the employment of new training staff around for each academy, along with other employees whose jobs were maintaining the academy: cooks, cleaners, electricians, and the like. In mid 2006, after the third Zen tournament finals, which were held on the first of January, he spent millions on advertising the new system and promised a larger stadium from 60,000 seat capacity to 90,000—gained lot of momentum. He even found 100 applicants whose families were willing to pay the absurd entrance fee. Only only of the small academies were used, and the course began on the first of January, 2007. By now, Nikolon had invested about five to eight billion on his idea, but this laid the groundwork for all his future exploits—it was to be worth every penny.

The turnout to the stadium in the finals was huge; tickets had sold out, which meant around 90,000 people attended. A standard ticket costs £50, so he got back at least 4.5 million. This figure does not account for the quarter and semi-final income values, parking tax, premium tickets, and other variables, so I could only guess how much he earned. Although, ultimately, he would not have made back all the money he spent on the investment. The projected income for future years was incomprehensively high and his net worth skyrocketed. It was a complete success. Or was it?

Unfortunately for Nikon, many people were thinking short term, and the fact was, he did have a net loss at the time—it caused him to receive great scrutiny from other so-called expert entrepreneurs, some of whom arrogantly predicted that his plan was unsustainable and that he would be bankrupt within the next ten years unless he called off the project. Nikolin was labelled a failure, called an idiot, an inexperienced child. The media was craving the drama and fanning the flames through the spread of misinformation and planting the seeds of doubt into the western populace's doubts of his success, but the young man did not even bat an eye to them, understanding that the media would eventually burn out the trending topic and move on. Best to let it pass than argue adamantly. It would be an uphill battle if he did, one which he was unwilling to partake in. Why would he? He had everything planned out and was far too proud to be driven into backing down no matter what. He was onto something, he could sense it. If he dare stopped, he would never forgive himself.

“I will see this through to the end,” was his closing statement in an interview regarding the state of affairs of his organisation and its seemingly "grim" future. What would come of it, you ask? Well I guess you already know by now...

To sum it all up: by 2006, Nikolin finalised the plans for the initial learning stage, which aimed to improve players' technical know-how and team chemistry. It was then successfully implemented to Zen tournament, which, did I mention was also renamed to the Nikolin Cup in 2007? With the turnout to the final game being 90,000, it was a sell-out, showing great promise for the future of the event.

But now, what exactly was this master plan of Nikolin's? Where is this all going...Well, the training course was my kick-start; the beginning of my journey to becoming one of the best strikers in China. This is my story—the story of Sun Tzu.

The entry course before the tournament, since its implementation has become well-known and respected by sports bodies worldwide—it provided high-end physical/mental exercises and dietary training designed to bring out the best qualities of each individual and the elite tutoring we received from renowned sports coaches, fitness, and football trainers was nothing short of perfection. They were extremely organised and very critical thinkers. Before we got a chance to kick any sort of ball, they solidified our fundamental understanding of team dynamics and taught us the techniques used to achieve and maintain high levels of concentration. It was only once they were satisfied that we started progressing into more physically-oriented activities involving our greatly neglected football. One of my favourite tutors was Coach Pascal. He was so philosophical at times, one of his most memorable teachings was, “Not only does one's will control one's strength, one's will can also control and draw upon the strength of others.” I’ll leave you to figure out that one...anyways, we were very well taken care of. The employed doctors were always on standby during games to handle any injuries, and through the year, the staff were very helpful and professional, continually pushing our boundaries. It was amazing, yet terribly taxing on the body, but in the past, this system caused a lot of stigma in the country.

You see, the greater the hospitality, the larger the cheque required, and participants received a lot of hospitality...this paywall prevented many families who had supposedly talented children from participating, and was by no means overlooked by the general public. There was massive controversy over the matter; most families have a small income from their city jobs after migrating from the countryside for better wages, but it's not enough to afford the course before their kids reach adulthood. The organisation refused to bend to the pressure, claiming that the tournament would no longer be recognised as highly by large football associations if they hired cheaper staff and used simpler training methods and that it was impossible to rectify without large financial support.

After around four years of complaining, monotonous interviews with company spokespersons, and botched fundraisers, people realised it was no use, and focused mainly on questioning politicians and influential government officials about the problem. At first, they simply dodged the questions, cautiously responding to the press in order to avoid saying the wrong things and causing an uproar, they deliberately continued obscuring their position on the matter.

As the months went by, they confirmed how successful the competition was and its significance to football enthusiasts. This was clearly a great opportunity to improve their reputation both globally and with civilians. Action was promptly taken, and they began contacting the enterprise, thus developments were planned behind the scenes and the enterprise staff soon began mentioning a “promising partner." However, the government's involvement was to be kept under the radar until plans were complete.

By early 2015, the deal was made public in a conference speech given by their CEO, Nikolin Tiesla, the polish born entrepreneur. By now, he had gotten back around 80 percent of the billions he invested in his Nikolin Cup—silencing most cortices who dared demean his sheer brilliance. A post on their Twitter and Facebook site stated, “Due to Football's rapidly growing popularity in China through The Nikolin Cup, the Chinese government has decided to begin funding economically and providing additional assets. We will continue to strive for the best within our squad and with the incredible number of resources extended to us. That is nothing short of guaranteed, now at a more reasonable price than ever before! Thank you all for your continued support and desire for positive change. Without you, our beloved supporters, none of this would be possible. Follow us on Facebook and Twitter to be informed of the latest news concerning the Nikolin Cup before any major news outlet. This has been an incredible journey and we hope you will continue sharing it with us.”

The organisation running the extremely successful programme thus lowered the entrance costs significantly to around £5,000 per participant. This expectedly caused a huge increase in entries during the three month application period, thus extra assistant teachers and maintenance staff were hired. The organisers also decided to make the “adjustment course” more difficult to compensate for the increase in participants...

Where it all began for me...the "revisited adjustment course"—launching on the 1st of January, 2017, it aimed to heighten participants' cognitive ability, strengthen their bodies, and hone their skills. Lessons would be taught at several sports academies or training camps, and attending was mandatory. Contestants would be sent to one of the four rigorous academies, located in the provinces; Zhejiang, Jiangsu, Jiangxi, and the municipality of Shanghai (province and city). Each academy hosted 250 participants—they were by no means luxurious, but were practical. They had several large gyms and football pitches. The canteens only served low fat foods with the weekly special dessert every Monday and Friday (I loved the chocolate fudge sundae). The camp grounds were very open and welcoming. We would be living in these camps for 11 months. It was very accommodating—so much so that, during my first week, I almost forgot only 20 people would be selected to represent my camp known as the Zhejiang Kinsmen, in the bout for the championship against the other four the Jiangxi Patriots, Jiangsu conspirators, and Shangia Legislators.

Everyone tried put up an aura of bravado and confidence, but we were all scared or nervous. How could we not be? All of us carried the weight of our nation's expectations. Hell, the staff was intimidating enough in their own way. There was a rumour going about that one of the trainers kicked 23 students from the course—on the same day! Apparently they weren’t interested in the class lessons and were wanting to play football outside instead. They obviously couldn’t hide those feelings very well or just didn’t care. Their sacrifice served as a good warning to all the others. This was a fight for survival, and only the most adaptable and talented would get through.

Its a bit hazy, but in about seven months, 850 people had fallen prey to the constant standardised fitness tests and football IQ tests. They were efficiently identified and evicted from the academies by the hundreds every month. They were transported by a conglomerate of busses to the largest city in the region of the academy, their families were informed of the time they would arrive, and had plenty time to contact them long before the journey. The former students got to stay within the campus till all the necessary preparations were complete. Once they were dropped off, they would be left to their own devices. Their rather brief journey had ended.

There was no room for leniency. The rule of law was simple and crude. If one did not display enough potential during the training phase, they would be cut. The passing grades were very high. Many simply gave up and broke off, leaving by their own will, Others were forced to vacate due to lacklustre performances, but there was some good news—it was stated that 50 percent of fees would be refunded if a participant left/ was ejected prior to the first of July, 2017. Those who would remain after the date would get nothing back. The stakes were even higher. Fortunately for me, I was able to stroll through the Football IQ tests and was fit enough to get satisfactory results in the fitness tests. By October, only 100 of the total 1000 participants remained—25 in each camp. "The chosen" was the title given to us by the public. Our success was founded upon the shattered hopes and dreams of many others as well as our own hard work and dedication. That is competition—that is the unchangeable nature of sport...

The staff chose the starting line up, the other 13 "chosen" were reserves who were rarely called upon during the tournament matches. It's been that way since the Zen days. However, it wasn't all doom and gloom for them. We all gained a lot of respect from the Chinese citizens, being "chosen" was considered a huge achievement—recognised by many sports bodies. Everyone got to know each other through those 11 months. We figured out our various quirks, play styles, backgrounds. Our chemistry with each other couldn't have been better...We ate together, slept together, had interviews together—we were brothers.

The gruelling Qualifying rounds were no joke: There were four teams playing two full-length matches every week (against each other) for two months. Every match was filmed and the footage was later analysed by the staff members who had been observing our progress at the camp. There were around 20 of them at that point. As number of participants declined, less staff was required, so the initial number from day one had dwindled.

And that's how they decided which players would be selected for the finals game. Qualifying teams were of the player's choice. Any problems that came up would be handled by the staff as was necessary. The two finalist teams had the best players from the highest ranking clubs, with the follow-ups on the bench in case of any injuries.

Now, it's very obvious why intrigued men and women from all corners of the globe, but mainly Asia, came to view this large, well-funded event in the thousands. It was an opportunity for these young talents to showcase their raw ability to the world, and I was not prepared to pass up this opportunity...

"I'm finally here," I sighed.

"Let's give em a good show," Mao, our captain, said earnestly, riling up the lads during the team huddle. As we were making our way out of the tunnel, I could see the bright light at the opening ahead of us. The crowd was making a racket, but it wasn't comprehensible as the tunnel walls blocked out most of the sounds, but as soon as we exited that tunnel, we were all engulfed in the sounds of the stadium; its intricate heartbeat.

Walking onto the pitch felt incredible, as my studs were digging into the astroturf. I felt a jolt of energy run through me. A flame kindled in my heart, an urge to succeed, a primal craving for victory. The pitch quality, zeal of the crowd, lights—everything cumulated harmoniously. The end product? An absolutely breath-taking atmosphere. The viewers were jubilant, doing a multitude of things. Some waved their flags and blew their horns, others simply chatted with their friends and family. There were also large groups of people phrasing well known songs—I swear, I even heard someone shouting "I'm a barbie girl!" It wad a comedic attempt to get others in the crowd to sing the theme song. As expected, he got a few laughs, but nothing more. The spectators enjoyed watching the young stars of the show during the warm-up period, theorising our play styles and attitudes. They got a rough idea from the interviews, but seeing the players in person is more convincing. I could tell numerous people were already choosing favourites before the match even started! A few players reveled in the attention, clapping and showboating to the crowd before beginning their warm-up, Others simply focused on preparing themselves for the game, immediately starting their warm-up and drills. I was part of the latter group.

During the line-up where players on the opposite teams shake hands, along with the game officials (referees), the crowd was deafening; undoubtedly eager for the highly anticipated game which was starting soon. It was to be the climax of the tournament, the whistle blows kickstarting the game: Shanghai Black VS Shanghai Yellow.

The stadium's ambience intensified to an even higher plateau after the starting whistle. Itt was absolutely absurd! After moving to position (in front opposition's defensive line), I was scouting for openings (one of my duties as the forward of my team). As I looked around, I just happened to notice one person in particular standing on the sidelines, other than the horde of cameramen. This individual was observing us so closely, it was a bit unnerving. There were many onlookers, but she, in particular, was extremely attentive, emitting a sort of pressure. She was just in her own zone.

The first goal of the game was a header from seven yards out. I was in the right place at the right time. In the 28th minute, I was fed a powerful corner which was beautifully whipped in by our left-footed captain, Mao, Leaping high above the defenders as they descended. I had just reached my peak.

I connected with my forehead by leaning back and then contracting my core muscles. This jolted my upper body forward, dishing out a fierce power header. The ball flew in right above their keeper, Chen's, head, too fast for him to react. His hands went up, clasping nothing but air.

To celebrate, I high-fived some teammates and the crowd clapped and cheered in appreciation for the set piece—1:0 Shanghai Yellow. The defenders were baffled by my vertical jump, but were by no means disgruntled. I was but another challenger to overcome—no one would back down, and boy, did they frustrate me later on...

I believe they attempted to locked me down for the rest of the game. I continued to distinguish myself by using fake runs and positioning to the wings in order to create space in other parts of the pitch. They eyed me like a pack of starving wolves, noticeably two midfielders Kiev and Fushong, who worked tirelessly—intercepting many balls to me, forcing me to use more energy to make opportunities. 27 minutes in and they weren't any less famished from all the interceptions they racked up. They kept me contained so I couldn't personally impact the game in any meaningful way. It was devilishly tricky to counter. They were dissipating all pressure with fearsome efficiency. Truly class defending.

Their retaliation goal came in the 46th minute. Beforehand, our defenders were also on point, blocking many of the goal-scoring opportunities that Ryungo, their right winger, created, reading runs, predicting thorough balls. But one slip was all it took...Their left winger named Shun made an amazing run down the wing. He used two quick stepovers, making Liu off balance. He then quickly burst past our right back, briefly striding towards our box before taking a shot with his right foot from 20 yards out. It was a powerful low—near post shot. Our keeper, Lin, dove strongly (when a keeper plants his feet into the ground and forcefully pushes his body in a direction) with his body perpendicular to the ground and one arm reaching towards the corner. He somehow managed to reach it, deflecting it with his fingertips, the ball then hits the post bouncing back into play. The crowd was silenced—the majestic save resonating in their spirits.

However, as fate demanded, their striker, named Gin, was a clinical poacher (forward in the box waiting for goalscoring opportunities). He reacted almost instantaneously and toe-poked the ball into the open goal. Reviving the dormant crowd, the keeper was still on the ground recovering (getting back up) from his dive and could do nothing. Our left centre back, Han, executed a sliding tackle (a defensive move used to try to steal the ball from an opponent or knock the ball away), but was split second to late. He put his hands on his head mid-slide in disappointment. Gin had to jump over Han as his momentum took him forward. The grieving LCB lay still for a moment before re-focusing and standing upright, then raising his right arm along with Liu (admitting his fault). The crowd was cheering for the Gin, Lin, and Shun, as they did amazingly that possession. Gin ran towards the left corner flag, jumping while doing a fist pump to the sky as his celebration before turning to his teammates, who patted him on the back, praising his finish.

I took charge of the game in 57th minute. I knew I had to do something...special.

Our two centre midfielders, Haifang and Goe, were able to outwit the oppositions midfielders, finally getting the ball to me. I was standing at the halfway line near the right side of the pitch about to receive the low ball from Goe. I spotted one of their centre defensive midfielder's, called Chiao, charging at me. With my back to him, using my right foot, l lifted the ball into the sky behind myself. It went over both our heads. This move is known as the sombrero flick. I simultaneously turned around and dodged the aggressive player, softly controlling the descending ball, then dribbling forward at full speed, outpacing the surrounding midfielders Kiev and Fushong (Toji their third midfielder was across the pitch, no threat to me). Surprised by my flawless motion, Chiao tried to stop and turn, but ended up slipping and collapsing on his back. The fans were delighted.

"Ouch, that must've hurt," "Did you—did you just see that mum?" I was then confronted by the last line of defence they had. Taijo and Reji, a solid centre back matchup, they caused me quite a bit of trouble during the qualifications, but had I learned a thing or two since previous meetings.

While slowing down to a jog, I did the BODY FEINT to my right and one of the defenders (Taijo) responded, moving in that direction, consequently creating a small space in the middle of the pair. That was it, the opportunity I seeked, but I was not naive. I took a touch towards the gap, anticipating Reji would take the bait...

He did. As soon as he moved towards the opening, I did the ELASTICO to my left (his right) where the new gap was and burst past them both, leaving them in Lalaland.

The crowd lost themselves at this point—all these thoughts were spurring forth at once; "That's insane!" "So skillful!" "He murdered them," "Could he be the next big thing?" They struggled to catch me. Reji used a dirty trick, clasping and pulling on my shirt in a vain attempt to halt my run, but I was too fast—forcefully escaping his grasp, entering their box seconds later.

Glancing up, I saw the faces of the fans behind the goal; a couple covering their mouths, breathless from what they were witnessing. Others had a look of anxiousness, hoping that I scored, and didn't miss the chance I carved for myself.

Chen was composed, advancing forwards, trying to close the gap. He was doing the best he could. I bore a sly smirk on my face, because even though they couldn't understand , I knew I would not be stopped...there was no hesitation.

I hit the ball crisply with the inner sole of my right foot, delivering a vicious finesse shot towards the bottom right corner. My technique was as fluid as my breathing, striking the ball with pinpoint accuracy. I curled it around the helpless keeper, the ball stretching the back of the net.

Chen didn't even make a futile attempt to dive... Feeling unstoppable, I simply started sidestepping towards the left corner flag, continuously pointing at the name at the back of my shirt with my two thumbs before turning to face the crowd with my arms raised triumphantly. The two exhausted defenders could be seen slouched forward, leaning on their knees in the background, panting heavily, sweat dripping from their pained faces. He got us, they thought.

The crowd started chanting my full name: "Sun Tzu, Sun Tzu, Sun Tzu." I was engrained in their memory. The fans, while viewing my celebration, grew wild with fervour and dangerously high levels of excitement. "You're the best!" "What a shot!" "He's alright, I guess..."

In the 57th minute, I completed my hat trick (when a player scores three goals in a single match) with a casual tap in it was classic sweaty goal... Served to me on a plate by Youshu, our other centre attacking midfielder. Celebrating now would be more of an insult, so no player really celebrated...only some clapping directed at fans and high fives amongst our team members. Me, Mao, and Youshu huddled in a circle, exchanging kind words. Our keeper, Gajou, ran across the pitch to celebrate with us. The crowd was ecstatic, feeling content as I finally got my third.

"He did it, he got three goals!"

"Oh my, what a player!"

"Game over!"

"One of the best youngsters I have ever seen!"

Despite the crowd's mood, the other team still persevered. They still had an intense aura. We could not let our guards down, we knew that yet...

In the 80th minute they got a goal back. Their passing was almost unreadable at the later stages of the match. Our team barely kept up the pace. During one of their attacks, their sole centre attacking midfielder, Tendai, received the ball. He proved to be quite the playmaker in the qualifiers. He flicked the ball to his waist height, then quickly volleyed it high through our two centre backs, Lee and Wei. The ball reached Gin, who I admit made a meticulously-timed run through our defence. He calmly chested the ball down and sprinted to the edge of our box, then attempted to slot it in the top left corner with his right foot, but to everyone's shock, it flew straight into the bar and out. You could see Gajou's relief as his stern face relaxed. He pat the post twice as a sort of thanks. It would have been a stunning finish. Gin could not believe it, but he held his head high and carried on playing—an important quality for a striker. He and Tendai received great praise from fans.

"He has got potential."

"That run was timed perfectly."

"What a ball by the midfielder. He's a wonder kid".

Their final goal came from an extremely quick counter attack in the 84th minute. They used the tikka takka method (one-two, passing) to push into our box, slowly opening up our defensive line and eventually finding the open centre; defensive midfielder, Toji. He received the ball in the proximity of Han, our centre defensive midfielder. With the little space he had, Toji drove the ball (low shot) with his left foot. The ball launched forward, sprinting past Han and through Gajou's legs. Our keeper ended up falling backwards awkwardly from his attempt to react to it. Angry at conceding a second goal, he slammed his left fist on the pitch in frustration before he was consoled by me and the other players.

"Don't mind," we repeatedly told him. The goal-scorer immediately ran towards the left corner flag before sliding on his knees with his arms outstretched horizontally in celebration. He laughed wildly before his teammates joined in, the group piling on top of him.

Near the end of the game came my final scoring opportunity. In the 89th minute, I was receiving a lobbed ball curled in by Qui, our left back. I jumped in the air, hoping to do a textbook overhead kick. My marker, Taijo, was too intimidated to oppose my flight and backed away. He was inwardly prepared to witness something incredible. The crowd also went tense, quickly grasping my plan from my movements. Their collective gasp echoed throughout the stadium.

You know what amazes me? All this happened within a fraction of a second; an epic moment of bliss, which was abruptly cut short.

I misjudged the ball's flight path, landing on my back with a loud thump with nothing to show for it. I was too foolish.

"He missed it completely. Wow."

"Well that was disappointing."

"Unlucky kid."

Mao helped me up and patted me on the back saying, "Haha you're quite brave to try that." Briefly after my shameful display, the referee signaled for the end of the game. Because of my blunder, I did hear some murmurs and groans of discontent, but the majority of fans were very lenient with me and impressed by the match quality. I received the Man of the Match award and was sure to gain much recognition in Asia, along with my teammates—being the winning team. I was ecstatic. A variety of celebratory and comforting statements could be heard around me.

"We did it! We are the champions!'"

"Yes, we won!"

"Well done, boys."

"You got the better of us. Well played."

"We gave it our best shot, guys. Good effort."

After the players finished mingling with each other, both teams went round the pitch, thanking the fans for their very much appreciated support. After the post-game celebrations and awards ceremony, I was on my way out to meet my dad who was waiting for me outside when...she approached me. The woman from the sidelines.

Brimming with professionalism, she asked in a polite tone, "How did you learn to play like that?" She looked welcoming, so I didn't hesitate to speak to her.

I replied, "If you want to be the best at something, the quickest way to do so is to observe those at the top, learn their techniques, becoming a copy, then improve your own skills even further. In essence, become a copy before evolving into into an original."

She seemed genuinely impressed with my answer...

"My—my father told me that," I embarrassingly blurted out afterwards, casting my gaze to the floor, deliberately avoiding eye contact. Her reaction, a faint smile on that round face of hers, accompanied by a hearty laugh. I used the time allocated to me wisely, regaining my composure...She was a petite, light-skinned woman who looked like she was in her early 30s. She had glistening hazel-coloured eyes, and long, silky, black hair, the strands stretching down well beyond her shoulders. It looked incredibly well-kept considering how difficult it is to maintain such bedazzling hair.

"Here, take this card," she said. "Call me if you're interested... "

She then smiled again, shook up my short, dark hair, and then left. I was confused. Why would she...? And In that instant, the text on that card made sense to me...

Chapter 2 - Preview

He just kept nodding with a great big grin on his face, but once I went on to describe the woman's appearance and stature, it was only for an instant, a split second in time, his face made a almost microscopic contortion. Something I had not seen in...well, ever. Was it sadness, fear, or relief? There was no way of knowing. Wait...What was her name? I carefully look at the card again...

End