The Soccer Goddess Who Added a Dash of Ugliness

What matters most in life?

Wealth, status, looks, athleticism, intelligence, physique? Ask around, and every person you meet will give you a different answer.

Seven Ballon d'Or trophies. Ten Goal of the Year awards. Nine Premier League Golden Boots. I, Kim Chan-ki — a legend of the game who turned a glittering career into both fortune and fame — will tell you the truth.

The most important thing in life is overwhelming good looks. Looks alone crush talent. Looks crush everything.

I grew up in an orphanage, and that ugly face of mine was everybody's favorite punchline.

"lmao what's with that face?"

"Ugh… I'm actually gonna be sick."

"Ew, stay away. Ugliness is contagious."

Those words circled and circled around my ears, and I never cared. There was only one reason: I had an outrageous gift for soccer. The kind that made the whole world sit up.

I poured everything I had into it. Ugly as I was, I believed that if I earned money and glory, the women would follow on their own. And in the end I got it all — they called me a legend of the game, a man who had mastered soccer, the GOAT.

What I got back was this.

"Fuck!"

I flopped onto the bed and tossed the phone aside. In that moment, even the title of the world's best soccer player, even the mountain of trophies and medals, felt like nothing at all.

"What's the point of any of this…"

I stared at the ceiling and let out a long breath. I had believed soccer could buy me everything in the world. The things I actually wanted — recognition, love — still sat just out of reach.

"I'd rather be a little worse at it and just look ordinary."

Bzzzt—!

The phone chimed. "Ha… I really am ugly." Before the screen even lit, my own face stared back at me from the black glass. That familiar disappointment, the one that hit every time I looked in a mirror, pressed down on my chest all over again.

"No, wait. Am I not just ugly — am I actually repulsive?"

I let out a bitter little laugh and shook my head.

It was the number-one soccer web novel on Nobel, and word was it would be getting a webtoon adaptation soon. I wondered if the author had any idea — that a man with seven Ballon d'Or trophies, the best soccer player in Asia, no, in the world, was reading their story for fun.

"Why is there so much face description every time Jung Tae-woo shows up?"

Whenever that goalkeeper — who was written as a villain, no less — entered a scene, the author always lingered on how handsome he was.

Even in a novel I read for fun, the comments felt like they were mocking my face. Heat crawled up my neck. I typed.

Not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠long after, the author replied.

"Like you've actually seen Jung Tae-woo in person. What is this?"

Then the whole situation struck me as so ridiculous I snorted.

"Aigoo. Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

I sighed, set the phone on the nightstand, pulled the blanket up, and shut my eyes. Consciousness was just starting to blur when the phone began to buzz.

Bzzzzzt—! Bzzzzzt—!

Alert after alert. I was already sinking too deep to do more than hear them, faint and far away.

Bzzzzzt—! Bzzzzzt—! Bzzzzzt—!

The phone was going haywire, but I was already slipping into a dream. At the very edge of awareness, the buzzing reached me, thin as a whisper…

"Nngh…"

I opened my eyes to morning sunlight and something felt off. Like the bed had suddenly gotten smaller.

"Did I actually grow at this age?"

My body felt wrong in a way I couldn't pin down, but I still had to get to the club, so I sat up and headed for the bathroom.

"Gah—!"

Thud!!

"What the… why is this guy so handsome?"

The face in the mirror was not the ugly one I knew. I had spent years around famous soccer players and seen plenty of good-looking male celebrities, but I had never seen a face like this.

Double eyelids and long lashes that caught the eye, a high, straight bridge of the nose, a jawline cut like sculpture — features that belonged on a mixed-race model. The sharp chin and pale skin made him look almost vampiric. And on top of all that, a height that easily cleared six feet.

"Wait. Where even is this?"

I looked around. This was not the mansion I owned in Chester. It was an ordinary Korean family home, the kind you could find anywhere.

"This guy likes soccer too, huh."

Posters of what looked like soccer players hung on the wall, along with a Korea national team jersey. I wandered the room for a while before a white envelope on the desk caught my eye. On it was written: To Player Kim Chan-ki.

"Ah. So that's what this is…"

I knew it in my gut. This letter was from whoever had dumped me into this situation.

"Ex—explode? Hold on!"

I jerked at the last line, flung the letter toward the window on reflex, and dove under the desk. My heart hammered. Cold sweat ran down my whole body. Minutes passed, and nothing made a sound.

"D-did it go off?"

I eased myself up and looked around. Somehow, impossibly, the letter was sitting on the desk again.

"I definitely threw that out the window."

My hands shook as I unfolded it.

…

…

…

"Fuck!"

Goddess of soccer or not, she was the one who'd screwed up and transmigrated me, and that was her reaction?

"You messing with me right now? By your own account you dumped me in here, you don't have the points, and now I have to grind achievements in this novel so you can refill them?"

As if the letter could hear me, the writing began to change.

"You crazy little—"

I let out a long breath. "Haaah."

Then I thought it through again, and the situation wasn't all that bad. I had the overwhelmingly handsome face I'd only ever dreamed of. Jung Tae-woo was a goalkeeper, sure, but I didn't have to cling to that position, did I? Playing as a striker the way I always had, and enjoying this world while I was at it, didn't sound terrible. No — honestly, it sounded pretty great. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I could even thank the Soccer Goddess—

Grateful, my ass.

"Win the World Cup. With Korea."

That was an achievement I had never managed even as a striker the world hailed as the God of Soccer. And I was supposed to do it as a goalkeeper?

"Damn it. I'll rack up achievements somehow and get out of here within ten years."

Korea winning the World Cup in ten years?? Don't get your hopes up. It's zero percent.