BAB 6

A few minutes later, outside Costa Cafe, Julian and Rusty Stripe faced off, surrounded by a growing crowd of onlookers. The primal urge to witness a rivalry, especially one involving a love triangle, drew them in like moths to a flame.

"This Irish kid, challenging the school team's star player? Is he insane?"

"He seemed so cool in the cafe. What happened?"

"I thought he was smart, but he practically handed Rusty Stripe victory on a silver platter."

"He's either incredibly stupid, or incredibly cunning. He probably just wants an excuse to ditch Sophie."

"That's actually plausible!"

"What a jerk!"

"Rusty Stripe, crush him!"

"Anyone taking bets? I'm putting money on the Irish kid not even hitting thirty!"

"I'm in!"

The air crackled with negative energy, a symphony of disbelief and anticipation. Julian sighed inwardly. If his daily pickup limit hadn't been reached, he could have harvested a goldmine of skills and emotions. He'd have to figure out how to upgrade the system later.

Rusty Stripe, seeing Julian's slight shake of the head, puffed out his chest. "Scared, Irish boy? Admit defeat now, and you'll save yourself the humiliation."

Julian smiled. "Let's get this over with. You go first."

"Hmph! Fine!" Rusty Stripe grabbed the football and began juggling. His gang counted loudly, their voices echoing through the crowd.

"One, two, three, four..."

Rusty Stripe's technique was mediocre at best. His bulky frame lacked the finesse required for delicate ball control. He managed a paltry 19 juggles.

The crowd murmured their disapproval. Even for a non-professional school team, that was a dismal performance.

Rusty Stripe wiped the sweat from his brow. "That was just a warm-up. Now, watch this!"

"One, two, three, four..."

He managed 50 juggles this time, a slight improvement. The crowd remained unimpressed, but the numbers were what mattered.

"Those were warm-ups too," Rusty Stripe declared, wiping his nose. "This is my true strength."

"One, two, three, four..."

His third attempt yielded only 37 juggles.

Rusty Stripe, unfazed, shrugged. "Fifty is enough. Your turn, Irish boy." He tossed the ball to Julian.

Julian caught the ball, a wave of emotion washing over him. In his previous life, he'd loved football, but never had the chance to play seriously. Now, reborn, a new opportunity lay before him. He could barely contain his excitement.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm his nerves, and began juggling.

Immediately, he sensed something was off. His muscle memory from his previous life was fighting against his current body's stiffness. He managed a measly eight juggles before the ball slipped away.

Sophie's face fell.

Rusty Stripe grinned. "Eight? Just give up now! You'll never hit fifty!"

Julian ignored him, focusing on regaining his composure. The muscle memory was kicking in, and the ten hours of free ball-juggling training were activating.

He moved his limbs, loosening up, and tossed the ball high into the air, at least four or five meters.

The crowd gasped. Sophie's heart pounded. This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Rusty Stripe and his gang roared with laughter. For someone unfamiliar with football, judging the ball's trajectory and timing was impossible.

"Unless you're Ronaldinho or Messi..."

Snap!

Before Rusty Stripe finished his sentence, the ball landed perfectly on Julian's raised foot. The impact was absorbed, the ball bouncing only a few centimeters off his shoe.

The crowd was stunned. Rusty Stripe's jaw dropped.

Was this a fluke? Or... was it some kind of Irish magic?

Julian, with fluid movements, began juggling the ball, alternating feet, applying subtle forward pressure to create spin and stability. His touch was delicate, precise. The ball seemed tethered to his feet by an invisible string.

Sophie's eyes widened, filled with surprise. Julian was a revelation. From clumsy novice to football prodigy in seconds.

She blushed, remembering her earlier promise.

In less than thirty seconds, Julian surpassed Rusty Stripe's best. Rusty Stripe and his gang stared, their eyes following the ball's every move.

In less than a minute, Julian hit 100 juggles, and he wasn't slowing down.

Rusty Stripe stammered, "How... how is this possible?"

Julian ignored him, lost in the rhythm of the ball. The feeling was exhilarating.

He switched techniques, using the inside and outside of his feet, then his thighs, head, and shoulders. The crowd, initially skeptical, erupted in applause.

When Julian hit 361 juggles, the ball finally bounced off his shoe.

The crowd cheered.

Julian frowned. "I messed up. I'll do it again."