I am rotten. Rotten to the very core of my soul. That doesn't mean I'm a criminal, though.
In a way... That makes it even worse. . .
# New York, New York City
#-1. Waldorf Astoria New York
This is my favorite place. The most famous luxury hotel in the world. In this very spot, I have met many women.
"...."
Beyond the hazy clouds of cigarette smoke, a woman is staring at me. Her gaze is both meaningful and greedy. I know exactly what that look means.
Normally, I would have played along and accepted the advance. But today, I just don't feel like it.
I pushed myself up from the sprawling bed, threw on a robe, grabbed my cigarettes, and stepped out onto the terrace.
"Phew—"
On the surface, it's not a bad life. In fact, it's closer to a highly successful one.
I was the first Asian head coach in the NFL. But I didn't stop there. Over the past six years, I've led my team to four championships. I know I'm good at what I do.
I have a damn smart brain and sharp instincts. The tactics I created were revolutionary.
I also had an eye for talent. I found players and helped them maximize their strengths. I turned an average quarterback into the NFL's biggest star, and I secured free-agent contracts for wide receivers and tight ends that were large enough for them to live in luxury for the rest of their lives.
Before I knew it, everyone wanted a piece of me. But to me, none of it meant anything.
Not from the very beginning.
Tch. I carelessly flicked the short cigarette butt off the terrace and pulled out a second one, placing it between my lips.
"Phew—"
Watching the cigarette smoke makes my heart feel a little more at ease.
["Now, even I don't know who you are anymore."]
["What is your true heart?"]
["Have you ever even been sincere?"]
["You son of a bitch."]
Five marriages and four divorces. The women who lived with me were all miserable. They said it felt like I didn't love them.
I never gave them a proper answer. But they were right.
To look into a void that could never be filled—no matter how much you poured in. It must have been an unbearable agony for them.
["You're going to spend your whole life alone."]
["No one can ever truly be with you."]
I remember the final words they left behind vividly.
After paying out alimony to those four ex-wives, I poured all the remaining money into alcohol and women.
I know it's stupid. I've thought about stopping. But I couldn't. I don't even know why. If I knew the reason, I would have stopped a long time ago.
Is it a lack of will? Well. Maybe.
Trickle— Standing on the top-floor terrace of the Waldorf Astoria and urinating gave me a brief, petty sense of catharsis. But the mood quickly darkened again. I didn't want to live like this. Truly.
A normal family. A normal day. I dreamed of a warm dinner with a loving family when the holidays came around.
But all I have left now is…
"Fuck you."
Suddenly, I raised my middle finger toward the sky. Yes. I absolutely hate that sky.
Ever since I was five, when my parents died in an accident and I was left with relatives, I have hated the existence of "Heaven."
A woman who only wanted money. A man who had a sickening interest in me.
On my sixth birthday, I suffered the horrific act that became the catalyst for the broken man I am today. I remember the nauseating stench coming from that man's mouth. Come to think of it, doesn't that same smell come from my own mouth now?
Him or me. Maybe we're the same.
Anyway. I have never truly received love. It was just a cycle of abuse followed by more abuse.
While spending those days helpless and surrendered to violence, I met the person who changed my life completely.
["Why don't you try playing football?"]
["What?"]
["Football. It'll make you strong."]
Sophia. My only love. And my first wife.
She was a year older than me, and we met in elementary school. Sophia had also lost her parents at a young age and was left with relatives, but unlike me, she had met good people. Because of that, she was always someone I admired.
Sophia became a single ray of light in a life of total darkness. Because she was there, I endured those horrific times.
Sophia, whose dream was to become a lawyer, entered Columbia University a year ahead of me. I followed her the next year, entering Columbia as a football recruit.
Finally, I gained my freedom. And two years later.
["I do."]
["I do."]
We held a modest wedding at a church near the house we shared, celebrated by our college classmates. The happiest day of my life. The happiest days followed. That lasted for exactly three years.
In the winter of my 24th year, Sophia was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Even then, she held on quite well. She was a strong person.
But one year later, Sophia closed her eyes right in front of me.
It was from then on. I clung to football like a madman.
As an Asian man, I had my limits and wasn't good enough to play in the NFL, but I managed to get a job as a low-level staffer for the New York Jets. The time spent studying football and being at the office was the only time I could forget Sophia.
Slowly, I caught the organization's eye. Every year, I moved into slightly more important positions. By the time four years had passed, everyone in the franchise knew who I was.
And at thirty, I became a coach for the New York Jets.
As I spent every day in fierce competition, the pain of thinking about Sophia gradually lessened—but looking back now, I was just burying the pain under work. Without realizing it, I searched for women like Sophia. But they weren't her.
And they, too, were hurt by the fact that I, who they thought loved them, was actually longing for and projecting someone else onto them.
My emptiness... Came from losing the person I loved most.
Rattle— An empty liquor bottle rolled across the terrace floor. It stopped after hitting the wall.
At the sight of it, the intoxication surged all at once.
Suddenly, I thought the moon looked beautiful. The moment I reached out toward it, the ground supporting my feet ceased to exist. Slowly, the world began to tilt. The wind brushing past my body grew violent.
Oh. Am I falling? Feeling the pull of gravity, I closed my eyes.
Sophia. If you had stayed by my side, would I have been happy? Could I have become normal? Living a normal life with you? Growing old together normally?
Just as I felt a tear escape my closed eyes, an indescribable pain surged through my entire body. And just as intensely as it came, it vanished. Along with my consciousness.
'Finally.'
I've ended this damn life.
….
Knock, knock.
…?
…!
-! ….
What is this?
Ah. I see. I definitely fell from the top of the Waldorf.
Wait. There really is an afterlife. But hold on. Why can't I open my eyes…
"~~~. ~~~ ~ ~~~~~~."
"~~~~"
I hear sounds, but I can't make them out. It feels like I'm listening to something underwater. I concentrated with all my might to listen, and slowly, bits and pieces began to come through.
"…pretty …baby."
What?
"Tomorrow again… your parents…."
What?!
Wait a minute.
What I just heard was English. I couldn't hear the whole sentence, but a few words were clear. They definitely said "parents."
What the hell is going on? And why can't I speak?
I tried my hardest to make a sound, but only something resembling a groan slipped through my lips. Soon, something warm wrapped around me. A cozy feeling. I thought I smelled something pleasant.
And again, a voice drifted in.
"He 'ehu kai uâ i na pali."
What on earth is…
"Ke nihi a'ela i ka nahele."
I knew it was a language I'd never heard before. And I knew it was a song. There was a melody.
But strangely enough, the moment that unknown language reached my ears, my heart felt at peace and sleep washed over me.
I'm already dead, and I'm going to sleep again? Well. They do say death is an eternal sleep. So am I just going to close my eyes like this? Forever?
If so, maybe this is the final stage before being sent to hell.
How cruel. To feel this kind of coziness before going to hell. Something so nostalgic and warm. Something moving. I didn't expect to feel a sensation that reminds me of a distant, forgotten past before heading to the underworld.
"Aloha 'oe, aloha 'oe."
Huh?
Aloha?
That's Hawaii. Funny. To think the language of the afterlife would include "Aloha."
"Until we meet again."
What?
The sudden return of English made me want to snap my eyes open, but my will was too small and fragile to overcome the encroaching slumber. In the end, I succumbed to instinct. Even in death, I'm still the same.
Really. I truly hate this side of myself.
# December 26, 2001
#-1. Hawaii, USA
#-2. Maui Memorial Medical Center
"My goodness, how can he look so much like you?"
"That's because he's my boy."
"Honey…"
"I love you, honey. I'm going to work even harder from now on."
"Yes. Together. Let's work hard together."
At 12:07 AM on December 26, just after Christmas, a healthy son was born to Noah Stone and Jessica Stone.
The child was the spitting image of Noah Stone, who was of mixed Korean and Samoan descent. At the sight, Jessica Stone,shed tears of joy.
Noah Stone, tenderly pushing his wife's wheelchair into the hospital room, announced the baby's name in his characteristically boisterous voice before the gathered crowd. His face was full of pride.
"Dwayne Moi Stone! Yes! My son's middle name will be 'Moi,' the Hawaiian word for King!"
Dwayne Moi Stone. The man who will change the history of the NFL. At the same time, a man reborn.
The story of a man who was once the NFL's greatest coach, living his second life while retaining fragments of his past memories and emotions.
Though the protagonist knows nothing yet.
"Oh—look at our beautiful baby. Look at how he's sleeping."
"Honey. Look over here. I'm taking a picture."
Click.
Soon, he too will realize the situation.