A sudden shout jolted me awake.
"Hey! Open your book! Stop sleeping in my class!"
I blinked, my vision still hazy, as the voice of a slightly chubby man in his thirties echoed right in front of me. His face was twisted in irritation as he glared down at me, tapping the desk impatiently.
Book?
Why was he telling me to open a book?
And more importantly—
who was this man?
My head throbbed faintly as I slowly lifted my gaze. The moment I took in my surroundings, my breath caught.
Rows of desks stretched across the room. Students sat in their seats, some whispering, others staring at me with thinly veiled amusement. A blackboard filled with chalk-written equations stood at the front.
A classroom.
I was sitting in a classroom.
Before my thoughts could catch up, my body reacted on instinct. I reached into the bag beside my chair and pulled out a math book—the same one resting on every other desk in the room. The cover felt unfamiliar beneath my fingers.
The teacher snorted.
"At least try to look awake," he muttered before turning back to the board.
I stared down at the open pages, the numbers blurring together.
None of this made sense.
Why was I here?
Who were these people?
And why did my hands look smaller than they should?
Just a short while ago, I had been forty-five years old.
A construction worker.
I remembered the weight of steel beams on my shoulders, the constant ache in my joints, the exhaustion that never truly faded. My life had been nothing but early mornings, endless labor, and coming home too tired to think about anything else. No dreams. No ambitions. Just survival, repeated day after day.
Then there was that moment.
I had been walking home, my mind empty as usual, when I saw two small children running across the street, chasing a ball. Their laughter echoed faintly as a car sped toward them from around the corner.
I hadn't thought.
I hadn't hesitated.
I ran.
I pushed one of the children out of the way—
And then the car hit me.
The impact had been overwhelming, my body thrown aside like it weighed nothing at all. Pain, noise, darkness.
I hadn't expected to survive.
Yet here I was.
The bell rang sharply, snapping me back to reality. Chairs scraped against the floor as students began packing their bags. Without thinking, I grabbed mine and stood up, my heart pounding.
"Hey, where are you going?" a voice called out behind me.
"I don't feel well," I muttered, already moving toward the door. "I'm leaving."
I didn't wait for permission.
The hallway outside was empty, eerily quiet compared to the noise of the classroom. I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, trying to steady myself.
This wasn't a dream.
Dreams didn't feel like this.
I raised my hand and slammed my fist into the wall.
Pain shot through my arm instantly.
Sharp. Clear. Undeniably real.
I clenched my teeth and hit the wall again.
And again.
Each impact hurt just as much as the last. My knuckles burned, my arm trembled, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears.
It was real.
All of it was real.
Reincarnation.
The idea was absurd. Impossible. Something that belonged in cheap novels, not reality.
But no matter how much I denied it—
this was happening.
I had been reincarnated.
Whether I deserved it or not.
Whether I understood it or not.
Life had given me another chance.
Eventually, I left the school grounds and took a deep breath. I needed to think—calmly, rationally. Checking my wallet, I found a small amount of money inside and decided to head to a nearby café.
The moment I sat down with a drink in front of me, my thoughts turned to the phone in my pocket.
If I was really living someone else's life now, then this device might tell me who I was supposed to be.
I took it out and pressed the power button.
A lock screen greeted me.
"…Of course."
Any hope I had vanished instantly.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, letting time pass as I thought.
I was young again.
Fifteen, judging by my appearance.
What was I supposed to do with this life?
I didn't want to return to harsh labor. I didn't want another future filled with exhaustion and regret. Maybe I could study. Find a decent profession. Live comfortably.
Then a thought crossed my mind.
What if I became a football player?
I glanced down at my body. Fifteen wasn't exactly early to start seriously, but it wasn't impossible either. In my previous life, football had been my one true passion. I'd spent countless hours watching matches, analyzing plays, following players' careers.
Before I could dwell on it further, a thin, unfamiliar voice echoed in my head.
— Initializing growth system.
My breath caught.
A glowing screen appeared before my eyes, hovering in the air like something out of a game.
RYAN MILLER (Level 8)
• Agility: 5
• Strength: 9
• Endurance: 6
• Resistance: 7
Stats may vary depending on growth path.
My own face stared back at me from the display.
So this body's name was Ryan Miller.
I tried speaking to the screen, but it didn't respond. No one else in the café reacted, confirming that only I could see it. After a few attempts, I realized I could open and close the interface just by thinking about it.
My heart raced.
If this system was real…
Then maybe football wasn't just a fantasy.
Maybe I could actually do it.
After checking the system's details, I learned more about this life—where I lived, who my family was. Following the address provided, I returned home.
A woman in her thirties opened the door. Clara. My mother in this life.
She was a seamstress, working tirelessly to support her two children. Besides me, there was my twelve-year-old sister, Sofia. The system made it painfully clear how difficult their lives had been—and how irresponsible the previous Ryan had been.
Dinner was tense. Sofia's glare was filled with resentment, and I couldn't blame her. The old Ryan had been selfish, constantly demanding money without considering Clara's struggles.
When I stood up to help clear the table, Clara froze in surprise.
That alone told me how low expectations had been.
That night, I explored the system until exhaustion finally claimed me.
The next morning, Sofia woke me for school—reluctantly, clearly forced by Clara. Before leaving, I checked the system.
— You have earned 6 points for sleeping 6 hours.
So simply living earned points.
As I explored further, I discovered professions. Naturally, I tried selecting "Football Player."
A warning appeared.
— To acquire the Football Player profession, all stats must be at least 10.
My goal became clear.
Earn points. Grow stronger. Become a football player.
This world was massive—far larger than my previous one. Billions of people, all capable of growth. Football here wasn't just a game anymore. It was a battlefield of stats, professions, and talent.
The challenge would be overwhelming.
But as I walked toward school, one thought stayed firmly in my mind.
In this life—
with this system—
I would climb to the very peak of football.
No matter how difficult it became.