Independent Athletes from Quebec (IAQ) - World Cup 93 Team
PLAY-OFF SECOND LEG - vs. PASARGA,
THE RENEEGRAD, JOONGYEONG FEDERAL PROVINCE
26-PLAYER ENTRY
GOALKEEPERS (3): Seung-Myeon Kravitz-Hyeon (Montreal Koreana), Sandra Middleton (Brinemouth, NPH), Leopold Shim (Megabrantid, SRS)
DEFENDERS (9): Pierre-Karl Cizeron (CDSA, MYT), Kira Dormann (Kingsbury United, TMB), Coralie Higgins-Mah (CSKA Quebec), Hannah Kim (Damogran, SRS), Pierre-Karl Miller (RGS Athletic, EFL), Benoit Nianzou Jr (Deportivo Junin, VLD), Benoit-Richard Ukaleq (Mipojoseon), Klara Verlaan (FC Inter Nantwich, TMB), Frederic Yabusele (Atletik Tezia, MYT)
MIDFIELDERS (7): Jean-Christophe Babin (Sabrefell Moths, NPH), Mathinna Bouck (Montreal Koreana), Joelinton Dyxkeson (Brantisvogan, SRS), Arsene-Michael Litt (Liria Prirzen, MYT), Samuel McTavish (Lakewood City, TMB), Camille Oh-Chainey (CSKA Quebec), Jean-Philippe Vaillancourt (Couno Rangers, TMB)
FORWARDS (7): Hannah Currie-Masson (Leaside Lions), Kate Huitema-Omeasoo (Istria City FC, BNJ), Anna Korniloff-Kouyate (1896 Ebor, MYT), Eloise Kweon (Sabrefell Moths, NPH), Johan Ludvigsson (Admiral Storevik, SVJ), Oberon M'bah-Pinho (Kingston FC), Zinaida Woodcarver (Crisisbless, NPH)
'What do you think, miss Moran?' asked Henri VIII, as he looked back at Hannah Moran. 'From what you have seen so far, he's wondering in the crossroads of his afterlife, one that lies in a conflict between life and death, as he was drowning that snowy, mid-November afternoon in 2013 Cornwall.' He then continued. 'And at that moment, it felt certain that he, had he actually drowned himself to that moment at age 22, would have lived a thousand more years in limbo. That one enjoys while neither dead nor living, of being the next Yeomra The Great, the Lord Almighty of the Underworld.'
'So he could have been Yeomra The Great, instead of coming back to life and be with...' said Hannah, as she noticed the flowers glow further and further, their pollens heading towards Dr. Heo's half-submerged body. 'I would assume his late wife. Maureen Turner. Was it?'
'Not so fast,' answered Henri VIII, stopping but to emphasise what had happened afterwards. There was a sense of irony in here for Henri, especially when considering that he, who's recounting all of this, ended up being the last-minute, adjunct appointment to the Yeomra position (wait what?????) for next forty years after Dr. Heo's refusal to assume the position. 'But you are getting there. A good friend, who he had told all about the late Maureen, had noticed that he wasn't receiving to his call, and went out to the gigantic, tabletop rock by Lake Mahan. He dived to save his friend from being appointed.'
Hannah was stunned. In the very era that had coincided with the matter of life and death, where the world was under the crazies of the COVID-ae crisis and the Quebecois soldiers, including that of the Narrator's very own son Jacques IX, were busy liberating the oppressed souls of Nazi Felix...the fates of millions were left in the device of a college senior. Stuck in the circular chronotope of Cornwall, where the well-rolled, high-character humanities of the Queen's College were playing with the topic of life and death, the weight of the all-encompassing narrative of the Shingoryeoite state were very much left in the hands of Dr. Heo, who was close to accepting it all. Henri VIII's observations of the tragedy while in the earlier days of the Underground, while he was still getting used to the no-contact, all-desire afterlife, were all that had kept him in balance and check as well, as he would remind himself the weight felt ifferently by those who had shared the pieces of Creator's soul after him.
'I see,' said Hannah in a deeper tone, reflecting more into the calm, chilly timbre of her mother's singing voice, as she opened her left hand. 'Your Majesty, will you please give me the flowers?'
'Why, yes,' answered Henri VIII, as he formed a slight grin to suggest approval. '이덕춘 (李德春) Hannah Moran, drop the flowers to see what were left in waiting for him then.'
This was a gigantic blow for Dong-Woo. Admittedly, by the end of the 2012-13 school year, Dong-Woo's yearning for Maude Turner had remained to some degree, even if she had tried to deny her own part in the saga that had quietly left those of his world, whose shock at the damage the 'red-haired dancer girl' had done to their darling, in shock and disgust. But by the end of it all, all had come to a realisation that Dong-Woo, no matter how much he had tried and what he had won in that glorious year for the 'immortals' men's fencing team's threepeat in the nationals, had lost it all. Perhaps too much. Likely not enough. There was no chance, or at least we thought, that they would collide into the circle of fate again.
Occasionally her world of dancers, models and funnily enough, wannabe politiques would notice him on the streets, and so would his world of future barristers, scholars and parliamentarians, and they would attempt to use each other's flaws - that of her insensitivity and seduction, and that of his heartfirst romanticism - to set a war of unspoken war. I still remember those days and wonder how such a small, minor object like Dong-Woo's love could cause the deafening silence on a small city of 150,000 people. Their occasional encounters, usually in the city's downtown located just minutes away from the hilly campus and 'The Lake', were a charged sight...Nobody left off happy in those by the end, almost as if our normal selves could just turn into fiery angels in defence of our respective companies.
In an attempt to resolve himself, Dong-Soo sought himself in studies of the Novopetrogradian intelligentsia a century prior, whose thinkers wrote like novelists and whose novelists wrote like philosophers, then in sword. He would make himself noticed, and that spring would see his name not only being approved for admissions to the University of Kingston's Slavonic Studies program, but also earn selection into the eight members of the national men's sabre team.
The sudden arrival of fame, one that would arrive in the new year after his suicide attempt, had brought him a sense of hope, but also a surge to let her know. The words of his success would reach Maude, who would think twice about her mistake, and in a last-ditch attempt, would send invitation to her 21st birthday to him and Sam Laetner on July 18th. Only one of them would make, however, for the evening of her birthday party, he nearly died.'
Hannah noticed that the scene changed. Freed from the binding of the End of Maude, whose dimensions had loosened up and slipped into one of the normal times where everything had fallen back into the normal narrative, Dr. Heo was still in attendance by the Huyramarcan librarian in his cloaked form, the parchment of his life-changing moment in visibility.
The room was still dark with no change to the furniture. But now, Dr. Heo was wearing the dark, long-tailed coat of a Gangrimdoryeong (강림도령, 降臨道令 - crown counsel of the Dead in Shingoryeoite underworld. And at the farthest end of the very long wall, there stood the emerald-made Schottic Torch with its golden handle and pole. It emitted little light, reflecting the mental state of all those present, near and far.
'The name changed from that of Dong-Woo to Dong-Soo, from Sam Laetner to Don Lautner, and of course Maude to Maureen,' Dr. Heo pointed out. 'And all of the sudden, the details reflected like that of my own life...almost as if the document had started documenting stories back into our world. I still remember the feeling of driving along the Lakeshore Expressway, in the hopes of seeing her, in a rented car...the wheels broke down and so did the brakes...'
'Yes, it was you who, after all, could have died like me, your dear Creator. But was saved thanks to a friend,' said the voice from the dark void. 'That, admittedly, denied you the opportunity to become the Yeomra the Great, but at the same time, allowed you to have a second chance at putting your life back...'
At that very moment, The Creator emerged out of the dark void and towards them, holding the Schottic Torch in his left hand while wearing the large-sized indigo 'University of Toronto' hoodie. His glasses were slightly messy and his hair had grown a little bit since their encounter just hours ago (which had meant days, if not weeks, ago on The Creator's side), The Creator smiled at the elderly, still feeling amused with how similar their facial expressions showed, even with over three decades of age difference between the three of them.
'I see that our Gangrimdoryeong has made a long way around,' said The Creator, as he looked at only his second-latest creation made from his soul's pieces in satisfaction. 'Not the Yeomra the Great he was offered, but still no less of a position. Rather, one that fits the fulfillment of life he has long needed in those dark days without Maureen Turner....' He then offered the torch back to Dr. Heo, as he looked back at them. '천년을 다닐 준비가 됬느냐? (Are you ready to serve for next thousand years?'
'For the next thousand years of quest? To punish those who has outlived the threads of their lives, and to reward those who have earned those rights?' Dr. Heo asked in a rhetorical matter, remembering his knowledge of the Shingoryeoite world of spirituality. 'I mean, it's inevitable for me, wasn't it?'
'Let's say it's better late than never,' The Creator smiled at him, before looking back to the void. 'We have a world to fix. You, Hannah Moran and Jang Joon-Gweon has to mend these walls that crumble on these waters,' he coughed. 'And it cannot be done without retrieving most painful and yet joyful of your memories...so we could obtain the peace that is required for the Tribunal.' Then he asked him again. '준비가 됬느냐? (Are you ready?)'
'Who else could be,' was all that Dr. Heo said.
