NOVEL WEB Chapter 6: Chapter 6: “Welcome back”
Dmitry looked at me, gritting his teeth as if he were ready to beat someone. Although he looked angry, I wasn't really intimidated. At most, he could only scold me. If he laid hands on me, that would be a whole different story. Finally, he looked at me helplessly without saying a word.
"Alright, stop babbling. Let's move on to the endurance test," he said.
No one dared to say a word after he spoke. The kids could see that he was angry, and only a fool would dare to go against him.
When it comes to endurance, I've always been among the top. If I weren't so good, why would I be called the strongest prodigy in Russia—or even in Europe? Endurance isn't just about stamina; it's also about willpower. No matter how much I slack, how could I let younger children surpass me in this?
We lined up as usual. I could see Dmitry's eyes on me before he blew the whistle. Normally, I would start at a steady pace, overtaking my teammates one by one, but today, I wanted—and needed—to be first. From the very start, I accelerated until there was no one in front of me, then steadied my pace. This advantage lasted until the end of the 1500-meter run.
This time, even if they were surprised, it didn't show as much as during the 100-meter race. As for Dmitry, his face seemed to say, "Sure enough, I expected it." After all, I'd already said before that I never gave my best. Sometimes, the best response isn't to complicate things but to keep it simple and let others draw their own conclusions.
Geniuses have always been incomprehensible, but this time served as a warning. It would be fine if I came up with something new suddenly, but if I did it too often, there would be problems. For example, as a football player, if I suddenly woke up one day and invented a smartphone or created something entirely unrelated to my field, anyone would see that something was off.
I should prepare before making any moves. For instance, if I wanted to become a singer, I should first enroll in singing classes for a while so that when I started, everyone would simply think I was a genius. But if I had never been involved in singing and suddenly released a clip with a singing level comparable to Andrea Bocelli—well, I don't even need to think about how strange and suspicious that would seem.
Just like that, during the rest of the training session, I dominated every event, proving why I was called the strongest talent in Russia.
After the training session ended, although I wanted to stay and do some additional training, I wanted to return home even more. My parents—well, my mother—would be worried because they hadn't even slept at home the previous night, so I had no choice but to leave.
Despite having just finished training, sweating, and it being the afternoon, Russia's cold was still something else. I tightened my jacket around me and watched my breath visible in the frosty air. In my past life, I would never have imagined that I would one day live and get used to this kind of life, but here I am. Life is truly unpredictable.
Since it was the weekend and around noon, the streets were much quieter, with most people probably at home relaxing and enjoying the warmth.
My home is a bit far from the training ground, but it's only about a 45-minute walk, which for an athlete isn't considered far. When we first evacuated to Moscow, we didn't even have a house. It wasn't until I showed some talent that the club decided to invest in me, which, to be honest, is one of the reasons I chose to stay and not be ungrateful.
Now, I should prepare for my future. What can I do currently to build some reputation? Writing? Although I was good at it, I must admit that part of my success was thanks to AI and smartphones. Even if I have knowledge of the future and know which books will succeed, writing them would be too time-consuming, especially since novels struggle to gain popularity in Russia.
Singing? I have to say, when it comes to this, I have too many songs in my head that would become popular. In my past life, where I didn't drink or smoke to relax, music was my biggest spiritual helper—more so than anime or web novels. Unfortunately, I only know how to play the guitar, and the same problem as writing applies: I'm in Russia, where the national language isn't English or French.
Still, that's no excuse. Since I know how to play the guitar, maybe I could create a band? It's not a bad idea.
As for plagiarizing, I wouldn't write songs, novels, or anything else that came out before 2010—only those that came out after. I'm sure those works would never exist in this life. Why? Because I plan to subvert the future: create the first modern smartphone before Apple, buy Marvel, digitize media, revolutionize the tech industry, and change the course of history. The world I knew in my past life would no longer exist in the same way, so those works would never be created by their original authors.
It might seem hypocritical for me to think this way, but I'm not just stealing someone else's work; I'm preserving it in a world where it would otherwise be lost. Still, I would help anyone whose work I took in some way or another.
I took a deep breath after convincing myself. For now, it seems I should focus on the sports industry and wait for the right time. I shouldn't rush anything.
When I reached our family apartment, there was no sign of anyone outside. In fact, I'm the oldest child, with a younger brother and sister—twins, to be precise, who are seven years old. Unfortunately, our family, which should be happy, has some tension.
"I'm home!" I called out as I stepped inside, kicking off my shoes and hanging up my jacket.
The first person I saw was my father, holding a bottle of alcohol, sitting and watching TV. This is the image that makes me sigh the most. I still remember my first few years as a baby when he was an energetic person. Now, he looks so decadent and seems unable to live without drinking. The only thing I can be grateful for is that he and my mother haven't separated, although their relationship is too tense now.
"Welcome back," my father muttered without looking away from the TV. His voice was low, almost dismissive, and his grip on the bottle tightened slightly. I could smell the alcohol from where I stood, and it made me sigh internally again.
I nodded silently and moved past him, heading toward the kitchen, where I knew my mother would be at this time. Sure enough, she was there, standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot. The kitchen was filled with the smell of borscht, and my mother looked at me and smiled.