Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Hometown Team? (6)
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32m free kick.
It was a chance created from quite a distance.
Far from the penalty arc, it required a powerful shot to aim directly at goal.
The scoring probability from that position was significantly low.
But the Latics—most of them—were on high alert.
Those near the fence, shirts off, belting out chants, had momentarily become managers.
"Hey! Get closer!"
"What if they chip it? One of you lie down behind the wall! Huh?"
"Focus! Mark every player one-on-one! You never know when they'll dart out like moths to a flame!"
The reason was simple.
Owen had already scored twice from similar distances.
With both feet, no less.
"Will that bastard go left?"
"Or right?"
So the Wigan players forming the wall watched Owen's feet with anxious eyes.
Behind them, players from both teams were already tangled up.
"Just a nudge sent him down earlier, but now this [bleeped out] won't budge even with taps."
One player still sore from before spat curses at the star Park, who now held his ground.
Park, oblivious or uncaring, thought only of exploiting the space behind.
Meanwhile, Owen stood in front of the stationary ball.
"Huuuuh—!"
He let out a long breath.
Lifting his head slightly, he saw the wall and players from both teams jockeying for position on either side.
Lowell Gardner, watching from the technical area, felt deeply uncomfortable.
Yet he was confident.
'No way it'll lead to a goal!'
They had already completed set-piece training against Bolton's free kicks.
Even now, his players were marking opponents one-on-one.
Some were in zonal defense, narrowing the shooting lanes to a minimum.
His uneasy gaze then fell on Park.
Beside him, center-back Arthur Wood had Park in a tight grip.
As if he would never allow a run.
Gardner knew.
Park's box-crashing ability was exceptional.
In recent games, Owen had slipped final passes to Park's speedy runs multiple times.
"Or maybe it's a decoy."
Pretend to play to Park, while the whole Bolton team acts out a ploy.
Then, in the gap that opens, Owen aims directly at goal in a set-piece strategy.
Gardner knew it all.
And he was fully prepared.
Still, his furrowed brow wouldn't relax.
43rd minute of the second half.
Wigan had 27 shots on target alone.
Bolton had just 3.
They'd maintained over 80% possession throughout.
In a situation where they should've scored several, Wigan was the one hunkered down.
Worse, in the second half, they'd fallen into the opponent's mind games.
'Winning with Middle East tactics...!'
It was utterly unacceptable—Jeong-woo's lowly tactical style.
Something he'd never seen in League One, at least.
"Huu! Huu!"
Wigan keeper Samuel Jackson stomped his feet.
'Too far.'
For him, the next phase mattered more than the free kick.
Beyond the distance, it was trust in his teammates.
They'd shut down Bolton's proper attacks all game.
Wigan dominated individually too.
So Jackson saw it as an opportunity.
'After it curves, we go direct on the counter.'
In soccer, the most dangerous moment is right after losing possession on attack.
It wasn't just Jackson—everyone there thought the same.
Their faces were full of irritation and anger.
Fed up with Bolton's time-wasting all second half.
Soon, Jackson twitched one cheek.
'You bastards. Score if you dare. We'll flop spectacularly right back!'
No time for long thoughts.
Tweet—!
The ref's free-kick whistle blew,
Thwump—!
Owen Pressaig lofted the ball toward the goal without hesitation.
'As expected...!'
Jackson smirked triumphantly.
It was clear in his sight.
Park, lingering on the left edge of the box, charged but was bounced off by Wood's body check.
The ball, curving in an arc, dropped right where he'd been running.
Left alone, it'd go out of play.
Or Wood would clear it with a mighty swing.
So Jackson stood frozen in the center of the goal line.
"Huh?"
In about 0.1 seconds, Jackson sensed something wrong.
Swish—!
Someone burst through from Wood's left side.
Sensuous Ruff twisted his upper body to evade Wood's outstretched arm.
"You little...!"
Wood's furious shout rang out, but Ruff's sprint didn't stop.
Soon, he saw it.
One step ahead—the ball Owen had lofted, dropping down.
At the same time, Jeong-woo's final words flashed in his mind.
'The deadliest weapon we have is the free kick. And you, Sensuous. I want you to make the decision. Owen, Park, and the others are exposed now in many ways. You've got that burst of speed. Honestly, even if you don't score, just the threat is a win. So this time, Park's the decoy. You're the main man.'
Jeong-woo had said the free kick against Wigan would come only once.
Even if another arose, it wouldn't be this chance again.
'By then, they'll be so pissed their vision narrows.'
And he was right.
Everything was going to plan.
With Wood shoved aside, only Wigan's keeper stood between Sensuous Ruff and goal.
The panicked goalie rushed out.
But Ruff was faster.
He thought to himself.
'Sorry, Latics...!'
Unlike his thoughts, his right foot swung fearlessly at the ball just before it bounced.
Thwack—!
Clang—!
[GOOOOOOOOOOAL!]
[Sensuous Ruff!]
[A League Two player bags a late winner against Wigan!]
[It's as good as a cup final goal! Wow, insane! Absolutely insane!]
It was the moment every Latics fan in the stadium grabbed their heads in unison.
Crack—!
On the bench, Lowell Gardner kicked a water bottle in rage but missed, slamming the ground and limping.
* * *
Tweet, tweet, tweeeeeet—!
The final whistle blew.
Sensuous Ruff looked at the scoreboard.
[Wigan Athletic 0 : 1 Bolton Wanderers]
[90+4' : Sensuous Ruff]
The final score and his name etched clearly below.
Wooooo—!
Even after the game, fans who stayed poured boos.
In disbelief at the loss, many Wigan players slumped to the pitch.
Trash rained endlessly near the fence. The Latics' angry cries battered Ruff's ears.
"Traitor scum!"
"Go die! We'll never forgive you!"
But Ruff ignored them.
His gaze had shifted from Wigan and Latics to Bolton and Wanderers.
"We won! We won!"
"Did you see that? Huh? How their balance shifted all to me with my flashy moves?"
"Bullshit! Park did it all!"
Trash or no, they hugged, celebrating victory.
"Good job, Sensuous!"
"That run was perfect. Wood totally lost you."
Captain Dignity, Park, Owen, and others approached, hands out.
At the end, Ruff saw Jeong-woo in the technical area, back turned.
Amid the trash rain, he cupped hands to mouth like a megaphone, shouting something.
"Whoa whoa~ Hold up, calm down. Everyone calm. Wanna vent? Buy my doll. Rip it, burn it. Try the Deoktok challenge—gets eyes on you. Ow! Shit! Throwing bottles? I saw you! You little [bleeped out]!"
Pfft.
Watching intently, a small smile crept onto Ruff's face.
He'd brought his hometown team to its knees... yet felt strangely relieved.
* * *
"Our Bolton are true warriors."
In Jeong-woo's office.
What should've been one single tent was now five.
Beyond the open door, a few more tents lined the hallway.
In the center, under a yellow lamp, kids sat in a circle around him.
Squatting, Jeong-woo spoke.
"You all know how strong Wigan was. Rahim Strong led the scoring charts, and they had top-class players everywhere. But our boys didn't want to lose this one. As Wanderers!"
Like a kindergarten teacher reading a fairy tale, he animated his expressions.
"If you watched, you know. Wigan threatened us endlessly."
"Yeah! Rahim Strong was scary!"
"Right! Then Sensuous Ruff appeared. Latics-born Wanderer!"
The crowd of kids came from club owner office camping passes.
'Meant to be three...'
Somehow became twelve.
The winners spent the night in tents on the heated hallway floor.
'Not bad.'
No troublemakers, thankfully.
Just big eyes fixed on him.
Like gazing at an idol.
'Perfect.'
He liked that.
Jeong-woo recounted the Wigan game like a fairy tale—sternly at times, tense others.
After a while, one kid's eyes sparkled.
"Owner bro! You'll take Bolton to the Championship, right?"
All eyes expectant.
"Yay! Bolton to the Championship?"
"Owner bro can do it! Beat Wigan!"
"Yeah! Bolton's strong!"
Jeong-woo paused.
'Championship...?'
Originally, keep the team up, sell quick, leave the country.
No change there.
His soccer passion and dreams had withered in Korea—crushed.
No more love for the sport.
He'd always concluded that.
But soon, Jeong-woo smiled warmly, ruffling the kid's hair.
"Of course."
Yeah. Stick to the plan. But for now... protect their innocence.
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