Ties (3)
“Agh, get the hell out already?”
Ignoring Kang Dosik's shrieks from inside the house, I pondered the passcode. He must not have drunk today—his voice had some real energy to it. This guy wouldn't pick anything too complicated. 1230? Beep-beep-beep. Hmm... 1240? Click. There we go.
“You crazy bastard. How the hell did you crack that again?”
I spotted Dosik trying to slam the door shut and jammed my foot in just in time.
“Eek...”
He gritted his teeth and yanked, but a Viking like me? No contest. I shoved the door open effortlessly and stepped inside.
“Whew, what a stench. Don't you ever air this place out?”
“What's it to you?”
I left the raging Dosik alone and cracked open a window. Fresh air rushed in, cutting through the musty funk, and it felt pretty damn good.
“Agh, seriously. I told you, I'm not doing this personal trainer crap.”
Facing his outburst, I couldn't help but ask in disbelief, “Come on, don't I have some talent? Why not?”
Dosik put on a mock-exasperated face at my words, then snorted a laugh before continuing. “You don't know what talent is? T... A... L... E... N... T.”
“You spelling it out in Korean doesn't help.”
“Ahem... Anyway, you've got no talent. That's an ancient, unchangeable fact. The talent was in Yoon Jongmun, the guy you injured. Heaven gave him that gift. Too bad his luck was utter shit. Teaching him was fun as hell—it gave me this rush.”
Agh, look at this soccer pervert. For a split second, life flickered in Dosik's eyes, then faded just as quick. I felt a twinge of inspiration myself, only for it to fizzle out.
“And you, playing like that in Jeonnam—what talent? Get out.”
“I transferred to Gimpo Green UTD this season. And I'm good.”
“What?”
“You haven't watched my games.”
“Doesn't matter, you're still a brainless Viking. Out!”
“That's racist.”
I easily blocked Dosik as he tried shoving me toward the door. “If I'm racist, you're a criminal. Trespasser. Out now!”
“No, seriously, this season? Four games, four goals, two assists.”
“Four goals or eight, no talent. Out!”
We tussled like that for a while before I finally got booted. He looked ready to actually call the cops if I pushed it. Still, he seemed a bit more lively than last time. We'd only known each other a few months in this life, but persistence like this would spark his curiosity. He'd look me up eventually. Then he'd get it—my sudden growth. Would that soccer-obsessed weirdo just let a mystery like that slide? Whatever. I'd drop by after training tomorrow too. His reaction would tell me everything.
The transfer window's final reinforcements had beefed up the squad a touch. Or more like patching holes with paper until it looked decently thick. And the thickest patch was the new guy, Kvirin Moll.
Thwack! Kvirin's casual pass dropped perfectly onto the receiver's foot. Bundesliga pedigree, huh? Even a light touch carried real power, arrowing straight to the target.
“Leo!”
They called me Olmunt so much I'd half-forgotten my full name was Leo Olmunt. But the ball always found my feet, no matter what.
I glanced at Kvirin in admiration, and he pointed at himself with his index finger, yelling proudly, “Munich!”
Dad joke much? You barely played a game for Munich, bouncing around second- and third-division leagues. Impressive, sure, but at 37, you couldn't hide the mileage—mobility was lacking. How'd a midfielder like this end up in the second division? Gimpo was a puzzle. They nailed some deals, then botched basics like clearing garbage balls.
I brushed off the Munich uncle's endless old tales and focused on the other changes. Yoon Chaewoo's shift to winger was going smoothly, as I'd hoped. We were drilling isolation plays: dragging defenders left, then switching right. With Kvirin feeding switches and Lee Eunsang beating marks on the flank, it could get dangerous.
The real victim? Chaewoo, smack in the middle of it all.
“Haven't shot without defending in forever—it's tough. And my winger comeback's an away game at Suwon Red Motors? Talk about pressure.”
The coach had piled it on, and Chaewoo's shoulders sagged under the weight. Fair enough. Away at Suwon Red Motors was brutal—nearly double the average second-division crowd. A fallen K-League 1 powerhouse, their relegation was like a natural disaster. They always snatched a promotion playoff spot. No wonder Incheon MacPies were soul-crushed in the race. Why stick around here?
Still, seeing our captain fret wasn't great. Time for some cheer.
“Captain Utility Player looks badass. I wanna nail multiple positions too.”
I flashed a thumbs-up for good measure.
“What the—quit being creepy. Fine. You just don't choke.”
“Precedent, Vikings don't choke.”
“You're kimchi-fying so much, you might.”
We bantered nonsense like that until the final Suwon prep session wrapped. Good—Chaewoo seemed lighter by the end.
But a new worry hit me. Chatting with him made it clear: my speech was Viking-izing for real. Started as a gag, but now the concept was consuming me. Felt natural with Dosik, but with others? Stuck like this. Like a awkward Korean-Swede mashup had been born.
So today, I sought someone to remind me I was Korean at heart.
Beep-beep-beep-beep.
“Agh, that crazy Viking's back.”
Click. Oh, didn't change the code? Green light?
“You total psycho. What, you love me? Stalker?”
I ignored my old pal's gleeful trash talk, aired out the place, and picked up the rolling beer cans for recycling. Dosik, chasing me while venting, finally eyed me with weary resignation. It cracked me up, stirring old memories. We'd both changed a ton.
“Fine. You win.”
Unexpected words from Dosik.
“Watched the footage. You've got some talent after all. I get why you're cocky. But what was that crap from last year? Why hide your skill?”
“The path suddenly opened. Like a wuxia novel epiphany.”
“Epiphany? You sure you're Swedish? Not some Odin vision?”
I shrugged at his skepticism. “Need technique advice. Wanna embody it with my physique.”
Dosik stared, then sighed. “No clue why you're hounding me. Did Yoon Jongmun sell you drugs or what?”
Tell me about it. Felt like it. I swallowed hard, waiting.
“Alright, I'm a little intrigued. Looks like half of Yoon Jongmun's talent. Fine, one condition. Next game's Suwon Red Motors, right? Log three assists, and I'll help you three times.”
“Three times? Not full-time coach?”
“We'll see. Yoon Jongmun could've hit three assists, assuming no injuries. Prove it. Now scram.”
Booted again. But this time, it felt good—best talk with Dosik yet. Three days of persistence, and I could see him improving. Fewer cans on the floor. From total shut-in to respectable NEET. Bet he kinda enjoyed my visits. Typical tsundere.
So I'd shine against Suwon. As an old friend, I owed him that. Three assists? Piece of cake. I trusted Paulo and myself. Minus Chaewoo.
The next day, the team bus rolled silently toward Suwon Stadium. Quiet didn't mean doom. Our loudmouth mood-killer had shipped off to Japan. Everyone itched to end the winless streak.
One win, one draw, two losses. Decent for Gimpo, but underwhelming after the opener. Time for a turnaround—even against four-time winners Suwon Red Motors.
The Big Wings Stadium—Suwon World Cup Stadium's nickname—glowed red and blue.
Rooooar!! Strongest! Clap-clap! Suwon! Clap-clap!
Heat like Incheon's, tops in the second division. Why were they here? Massive energy swirled, rare for K2.
First faced Suwon Red Motors in the first division. Now both in second. Bittersweet facing them. Nostalgic for me, tense for the kids unused to it.
“Heh heh, time to show 'em again. No losses allowed!”
Kim Donghan seemed right at home—most fired up. Ah, ex-Seoul Dongdaemun FC. Makes sense; they're rivals.
“Ugh... Guess I gotta represent as a Suwon native.”
Please, Kim Heemun, don't stir controversy. You're turning into Donghan's clone. And you don't even like Suwon Hwaseong FC.
Every game felt high-stakes. Cheonan, now Suwon. Crucial even without Dosik—Suwon Red Motors and Incheon MacPies dominated. We needed to crack it. Head-to-heads like this were prime chances.
Recognition from Dosik and jumping back into the title race? This match. Plus, I was confident. Four games, four goals, two assists. Peak form.
Beep! Three assists locked in.