It was two in the morning, but sleep fled Belt Konp like a plague. Troubling thoughts pierced his mind as he woke up with a start, his body covered in cold sweat. His heart was still marked by the remnants of that bizarre emotion caused by his recent discovery.
Unable to go back to sleep, he headed towards his small computer. It was a powerful machine, the kind secret services would use to track down an international troublemaker. Belt sat down and started tracking "Uncle Jisk": place of birth, profession, career history... He had to pierce the mystery of this man who haunted his geeky room charged with solitude.
A Fruitless Search
One hour later, the result was frightening: absolutely nothing. Not a single clue. Not a digital trace. In an era of social media where everyone exists, Uncle Jisk was a ghost.
Furious, Belt closed his computer and went back to bed. A new heaviness weighed on his mind: the feeling of having been manipulated by a living lie.
The Meeting at High School
The next day, the high school hall looked like a jungle. In the middle, he saw his only acquaintance: Quiena. She was radiant, almost unreal, surrounded by boys repeating the same line:
"Quiena, do you want to be my girlfriend?"
She declined with a polite but tired smile. Suddenly, she spotted Belt and cut through the crowd:
"Hi! My favorite sniper!"
Belt, surprised, replied coldly:
"Sniper? You are mistaking me for someone else."
She burst out laughing:
"Don't tell me you forgot your exploit yesterday? The crossbar is still shaking!"
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"I didn't know you were a monster at football!" she continued. "In my opinion, you would make an excellent vice-captain for the team. They are missing a genius like you."
Belt felt the anger rising:
"I remind you that you forced me to play!"
He stopped abruptly. That strange feeling, that mix of rage and pleasure, came back to haunt him.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," she said softly, seeing his trouble. "Let's go, classes are starting soon."
The Shadow in the Library
At noon, Belt took refuge in the library to escape the noise. The atmosphere was calm, serene.
He stood up to get a specific book in the East aisle. He saw it on the shelf, but just as he was about to grab it, a faster hand beat him to it.
It was a discreet young man, with light skin and black hair styled in a stylish afro. He held the book with confidence.
"Sorry," said the stranger with a calm voice. "I think you missed it by a second. Don't worry, I will return it to you when I'm done."
Belt did not answer. He just stared at the back of this strange boy walking away soundlessly, like a shadow gliding on the floor.
Under the Tree of Thoughts
After school, Belt sat under an old tree, headphones on. He hesitated. Should he go back to the field?
"No," he told himself. "That old man is a liar. He doesn't exist."
However, a question tortured him: "If he is a liar, how could he describe this flame inside me that I ignored myself?"
Driven by this unbearable doubt, he stood up and headed towards the sports complex.
The Field of Truths
The ball was there. In the exact same spot.
And the phantom coach too. Except this time, he was wearing an impeccable referee uniform and a black cap with the inscription: "Forever."
Belt approached:
"I am here, Uncle Jisk... or rather, the Phantom!"
The man burst out laughing.
"Incredible. In twenty-four hours, I went from unknown to social phantom."
"Don't make fun of me. I found nothing about you. Who are you?"
"Who I am matters little. The real question is: what are you doing here, kid?"
"I want to know why you haunt my nights. You are an impostor!"
Belt turned to leave, hoping for a reaction.
"Running away is the best way to remain mediocre," threw Tonton with a dragging voice.
Belt stopped dead.
"Mediocre? Yesterday, I missed twenty shots. I am useless."
"The greatest successes hide behind a mountain of failures," replied Tonton calmly. "What matters is not your technique, it's that rage. You are a monster sleeping, Belt. And I am the exorcist who can wake you up."
"I don't want to be woken up. I don't have a team. What's the point?"
Uncle Jisk stood up slowly, his gaze suddenly becoming serious, almost frightening.
"You think you don't have a team? Look at this field, kid. Soon, this will be your kingdom. But for that, you must accept to learn how to kill your emotions to use them better."
He tossed the ball to Belt.
"Come back tomorrow. And this time, bring your sports shoes. Playtime is over."