The Former Soccer Emperor's Simplicity
Sewang High School was a fresh-faced institution, born from the rise of a new town, and thus carried little history on its shoulders.
Naturally, the soccer team suffered the same fate.
No roots to speak of.
"Yeah, we're short on history and tradition, that's true."
Jeong Tae-ho, manager of the Sewang High soccer team, let out a hearty, good-natured laugh.
"But Tae-hwan-ah, are you seriously trying to uproot the whole damn thing just because we lack roots? Huh? Is our Tae-hwan rebelling 'cause our record's in the shitter? Why not just recruit that girl walking by over there? At least it'd brighten the mood. Right?"
His words, however, cut like a knife.
Cold sweat trickled down Kim Tae-hwan's face. Even he knew it sounded insane—pushing for a second-year high schooler with zero soccer experience, let alone the top student in school, to join the team.
If anyone else had said it, he'd have laughed his ass off and called it bullshit.
"No, Coach, that's not it... Seriously, something's different about him. No flash, but he just... plays weirdly well. For real."
"For real, my ass."
Jeong Tae-ho's gaze shifted sideways.
There sat the recruit, yawning nonchalantly amid the tension.
"Name's Jo Se-jin, right?"
Rodrigo, casually scanning the office, only remembered it was his new name when Kim Tae-hwan nudged his side.
"Yeah."
"...?"
What the hell was this guy? Acting like his own name was some stranger's?
Whatever else, one thing was clear: the kid had balls of steel.
"Looking at you, never played soccer... What other sports you done?"
"Nah."
"Fine, so what have you tried besides soccer?"
"Nothing."
"...Not a single one?"
"Probably not?"
Kim Tae-hwan, fidgeting beside him, squeezed his eyes shut and blurted it out.
This bastard... Quiet type had me fooled. He's a total psycho.
"Ha, haha. Hahahaha."
They said absurdity just brought laughter, and damn if the old saying wasn't spot on.
Jeong Tae-ho, in his fifty years, had never laughed from sheer bafflement before.
"Join? If you wanna, join. Kid wants in, he's in. Hey, Kim Tae-hwan—round up the boys."
Kim Tae-hwan bolted from the office like a man scolded in a mob flick.
"Alright, Se-jin-ah. You wanna join? Let's test you out. What position?"
"Forward."
"Oh man~ Forward? Then run wherever our Se-jin's heart desires. Go wild, try everything."
"Free role?"
"Free role's casual talk, punk."
"Sir."
"Ha, haha. Hahahaha. Hahahahaha."
The soccer team ran scrimmages often enough.
But none had ever carried this heavy an air.
"Yo, why's the coach acting like that?"
"What d'you mean? Obvious, right? That cocky new guy's trying to join."
As kickoff loomed, the team's starting center-backs whispered, eyes locking on the player at the front of the opposing side.
"Where's he from? Face like that, you'd think we'd heard rumors, but first time seeing him."
"From where? He's one of ours."
"Bull. From another club's team, right?"
"Nah. Regular class. Second-year, top of the school."
"No wonder the coach looks ready to blow."
Their murmurs died with the coach's whistle as referee. It was a recruit tryout scrimmage, sure, but a game's a game—they'd half-ass it at minimum.
Still, their focus strayed from the match to the newbie.
Pass him the ball quick, see what he's got.
There was a gulf between pro and amateur, just as between aspiring pro and total noob. Walls varied in height, but against a regular kid with zero formal training? Pros or hopefuls alike were untouchable gods.
No way the players trusted Rodrigo.
"What the hell! He's wide open—why no pass?!"
No trust meant no passes, snowballing into awkward handoffs. Only when the coach bellowed did Rodrigo finally receive the ball.
"Kick it right back!!"
Even that came with a shout.
And swift pressure piled on.
Rodrigo pondered for a split second.
Two-on-one pass?
Pass and move was basics to shake marks. His body was wrecked anyway—muscle aches from that waddle days ago, plus lungs that quit at a jog.
But he ditched the pass idea.
Two-on-one hinged on teammates, and these guys looked liable to ghost him on the return.
Sure, stamina sucked, cleats pinched, but this was the body once dubbed soccer emperor.
"Uh...?"
Park Jung-gyu, pressing lightly, gaped as Rodrigo slipped past on first touch, smooth as silk.
Weight was forward on touch... how?
No amateur fake like that.
His run wasn't lightning, though. Jung-gyu chased, stretched a foot—only to see it glided away soft.
Confusion hit. He'd read the move...
"What're you doing!!"
Teammates swarmed as Jung-gyu flubbed again.
Yet none stripped the hopeful. No flair, no tricks—just impossible to stop.
A light upper-body feint and pivot blew by three. He faked a shot to fool the center-back, then nudged it sideways, casual, to the overlooked teammate.
The net rippled. No celebration.
Silence blanketed the pitch. Even the scorer stared, dazed, at his assist man.
"What was that."
"How'd he break through?"
"Upper body was too natural—fooled us all."
The stone-faced coach quelled the buzz.
"Standing around like idiots! Playing or not? Back to positions!"
Jeong Tae-ho hadn't left much mark as a player. Pro leagues? Barely second division.
Third-rate, through and through—even as coach now.
Most peers with his resume scraped by as neighborhood kids' coaches; landing a high school gig made him lucky. Very lucky.
And Lady Luck smiled again today.
"Coach, this..."
"I know. Watch close when we restart."
No career didn't mean no eye for talent.
Plain on surface. No dazzling skills, no flair, average speed. Yet: three bypassed, assist.
One or two? Luck. Three? No complacency explains that after the first breaks.
Had to be skill.
He recalled Kim Tae-hwan's words.
Doesn't even seem that good, but can't stop him.
A dry chuckle escaped.
That fool—blind as he was, calling that nothing? Restart, and no one touched his ball, let alone marked tight.
A shoulder twitch, light turn, subtle shove—no one dispossessed him. Jeong Tae-ho got it: different level. Another dimension.
"Damn, insane. Coach, you see? Even Chang-hyun got nutmegged. Handles it like a soccer sage."
Soccer sage?
That sparked a fave Bayern legend, Arjen Robben's interview on Messi: few wielded flair well, but Messi didn't need to.
At the peak, it simplifies... No need for tricks.
Crazy.
Comparing to Messi? But that concise, nimble play... And the net shook again.
Two more breached, aggro pulled, casual pass to space—goal.
Scrimmage or not, the scorer beamed, bolting to hug his assister. Jeong Tae-ho marveled.
"This... is genius?"
Body's worse than expected.
Rodrigo would've scoffed: This impresses?
A month later.
Jeong Tae-ho grinned at the assembled team.
"Good news today. Korea Football Association just confirmed Se-jin's player registration."
"Wait, so...?"
"Yep. Tomorrow's match—he's in."