Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Let's Secure the Gains (4)
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Black-Haired Tactical Genius
Preseason Undefeated: Bolton's Local Media Buzzes with Anticipation.
Even on Bolton Wanderers' official YouTube, the preseason footage played as highlight reels.
Complete with inserted narration in between.
They'd gotten copyright permission from the away teams in advance, so there were no issues whatsoever.
Bolton held the final say, after all.
Even days later, the highlight views were closing in on 6 million.
"Man Utd carried us on their back."
Jeong-woo muttered as he sprawled back in his worn executive chair.
Creak!
The chair groaned in protest.
It wasn't just any Man Utd game—they'd won it.
Most folks called it luck, but it only happened because they were prepared.
‘We trained like mad for Man Utd. Tailored perfectly to that team.’
And it wasn't prep just for Man Utd.
Post-Man Utd friendlies had all been crisp, organized wins too.
Even against weaker sides, their teamwork and other elements stood out.
It made sense, really.
Having prepped against Man Utd as the benchmark, every opponent after felt easier.
The whole process, Man Utd included, had been a forging fire.
Thanks to that, they hit Korean news, and multiple YouTube channels featured Bolton.
Subscribers flooded in like the tide.
"Already a million."
His lips twitched upward involuntarily.
In his rough hand, he clutched his phone.
The screen replayed the Man Utd game, the Turton match, and other preseason clashes.
Whenever players appeared, Korean narration overlaid with English translations.
[That's Shearer Kane. A striker from the fifth tier, joining Bolton Wanderers for 400,000 pounds—about 800 million won! And this young lad's already threatened the net six times!]
Jeong-woo had narrated the first episode.
But as an amateur, it felt awkward and off.
So he'd recruited a veteran Korean narrator through Richard Geers.
"The Kingdom of the Jungle narrator, no less."
He'd never imagined it.
That made it all the more immersive.
The deep, resonant voice paired with the players' dynamic moves.
In the heat of battle, they looked like lions vying for dominance.
[David Dignity is Bolton Wanderers' captain. He has this special ability to lead the whole team... pure leadership!]
[He's growling now...!]
[Claws out! Spotting prey nearby? He's in position to intercept the ball in one go!]
Jeong-woo burst out laughing.
"Knowing it's the Kingdom of the Jungle guy makes the pitch feel like the actual jungle."
How much time passed?
Jeong-woo set his phone on the table and reached for the documents on the other side.
His eyes scanned the text rapidly.
Out of habit, he grabbed a cigarette from the pack and stuck it between his teeth.
"How does it look to you, Executive Director?"
"What do you mean?"
Richard Geers had quietly settled on the guest sofa, sipping tea.
Jeong-woo flicked his lighter, lit the tip, and spoke.
"Cole Palmer and Frank Gerrard."
Geers glanced at him smoothly.
Through the open window, the red sunset bathed the office.
Jeong-woo stood there under it, white shirt rumpled, tie half-loosed, reviewing files.
Stubbly beard, tousled hair.
Brows furrowed in focus, naturally sharp eyes.
Cigarette dangling from his teeth...
Just that look screamed anything but club owner or manager.
‘But no one's more passionate.’
And that binder held detailed records of each player, based on preseason and practice games.
Eight months working together, and Geers knew Jeong-woo was a perfectionist.
Even after going undefeated, that uneasy expression said it all.
Geers answered curtly about the two players.
"They still feel like raw prospects."
That was enough for Jeong-woo.
"Right? Exactly. Still young. Whew—!"
Smoke billowed from his nose and open mouth, cigarette clamped in his teeth.
He narrowed his brow slightly.
"Even in League One, men's soccer and youth are worlds apart. They can dominate skill-wise, but physically? There's a wall they can't climb yet. Reserves are half men, half boys."
In practice matches, 168cm Frank Gerrard (18) got physically outmatched by everyone—not an exaggeration.
Preseason masked it against bigger gaps, but still.
"His grit, though—that I respect."
Even outgunned, if an opponent had the ball nearby, he'd charge in.
Problem was, he usually bounced off.
Jeong-woo winced like he'd tasted something bitter and added,
"Cole Palmer's not great physically for his height either."
"Same here. Reminded me of a sunflower."
"Sunflower?"
Geers replied with a faint smile.
"The kind that sways in the slightest breeze."
Unlike Gerrard, Palmer stood 189cm tall.
But growth had thrown off his balance.
"Grew a spurt during injury time—balance all messed up."
Like Adnan Januzaj, Man Utd's one-time wonderkid savior.
"Still, ball skills and sense are there."
Fix the flaws, and their strengths could shine.
But the team couldn't cover for that.
"City let them go cheap for a reason."
Even these 1.5 mil and 1.2 mil pound prodigies weren't flawless for League One.
But they were gems.
An opportunity.
Develop them, mold them into League One material, and broader signings open up.
‘Loans, whatever it takes.’
Jeong-woo was already jotting notes on the back page.
Training sessions for them had popped into his head.
He suddenly looked up.
"Tomorrow's the Food Corner event, right?"
Geers nodded slightly, reaching for his teacup.
"Yes. A day for the owner, players, and Wanderers fans to connect—over food."
New emotions stirred in Jeong-woo.
He hadn't planned for the Food Corner to launch on his watch, but here it was.
He'd already sent invites—sampling tickets—to all season ticket holders via marketing head Daniel Shay.
Plus YouTubers and the official site spread the word.
A festival for the season.
A kickoff for Bolton's economy too.
‘All potential Wanderers fans.’
* * *
A sunny afternoon.
Bolton University Stadium teemed like opening day.
Club parking overflowed; streetside spots filled too.
Sizzle!
Flour batter hit the griddle, frying with a hiss.
"Ooh...!"
Nelson Oakley, second-gen Wanderers family, drooled at the unfamiliar pancakes.
‘Smells amazing already...!’
He'd come to the stadium's Food Corner with his son.
Word spread easy: Bolton YouTube, official site announced the opening.
Bonus: surprise meet-and-greet with players.
Oakley grabbed a K-food pancake and headed to the shade, waiting.
Curiosity struck.
"What's in this?"
Not big on veggies, the green flecks in the batter puzzled him.
Right then—
Flip!
Whoosh!
"Ooh!"
Oakley jumped.
His kid below echoed with awe.
The Food Corner chef had wrist-snapped the spatula just as the bottom browned palm-sized.
The round pancake flipped airborne, spun five times, landed perfect uncooked side down.
"Whoa! So cool!"
His son gazed up like the chef was a hero.
Nelson Oakley thumbs-upped in delayed admiration.
But,
"Huh?"
He blurted blankly.
Something familiar about the guy.
Chef mask, hat, crisp whites—threw him off at first...
‘Name tag...!’
Left chest: big letters.
[Owner cum Manager]
Tourists recognizing him late, Jeong-woo grinned.
"Seafood green onion pancake. This one's kimchi with cheese topping. Give it a try."
* * *
The surprise event: players and staff cooking alongside chefs, serving fans.
‘It’s working.’
Lines snaked every Food Corner stall.
Word of players cooking spread online—crowds swelled.
Photos everywhere.
"Heh."
Jeong-woo chuckled.
No forcing it.
He'd personally recruited volunteers.
Players: Shearer Kane, Chong-a Pak, Owen Fraise, David Dignity, Sensuous Ruff.
Clack!
"Hey, why're you griddling eggshells?"
"Mistake, mistake."
Sensuous Ruff's corner next door was a disaster.
Staff: analyst Neil Rose, strategy head Charlotte Emma, marketer Daniel Shay.
The trio sold simple Korean hot dogs at the far right.
Charlotte Emma's line was longest.
‘All guys.’
Gawking, mouths agape, at her focused cooking.
When things went wrong, she'd delicately furrow her brow.
Some blushed.
‘Well now, already married with three kids?’
One guy's face screamed househusband.
Jeong-woo shifted gaze.
There, Hee-won and his wife manned skewers and fish cake stew.
Lines decent there too.
They bickered mid-cook.
"Honey, that's not how you do it."
"Then how?"
"Here."
"Nooo~ I wanna help."
"You sitting still helps more."
"But I don't wanna? I wanna hug my pretty wife right now, yeah?"
"We gotta sell! Get over there! Quit sticking!"
Jeong-woo nearly hurled.
He slipped back, plopped on a plastic chair.
"Heh, looks good from every angle."
Then—
"You! No slacking on that chair! We're swamped!"
A 50s Korean lady spotted him in the corner, bellowed.
He'd just sat.
"Yes, ma'am."
Jeong-woo stood sheepishly, grabbed the spatula.
She'd signed via ad—18 years frying in Korea.
Pity, though.
She clearly didn't know he was the owner.
‘Contract via Geers... no soccer interest... still, sold merch, hustled everywhere.’
Efforts falling short.
Hence the name tag: Owner cum Manager.
‘Auntie must've missed it.’
He'd pinned it for some fun undercover time.
Plan failed.
"Young man! It's burning!"
"Sorry!"
Felt a swat incoming.
But Jeong-woo owned any room.
Pro wrist snap: pancake spun loops, landed.
He fired back.
"Burnt a bit's tastier, they say."
"Who says?"
"My late grandma."
"Making your dead grandma look bad?"
"..."
Countered hard.
He shut up, focused on flipping.