Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: First Training
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Spain, where I'd gotten plenty of rest before returning.
The moment I stepped off the plane, Camila was there to greet me, as expected.
"You're finally here! Hng... Our Espanyol is in big trouble. Please save us quick..."
Now with a bit of whining thrown in.
While I was back in Korea, Espanyol had played a match, and judging by Camila's reaction, they'd lost.
It must've been a heavy defeat.
I couldn't exactly claim ignorance since I was an official player now, so I decided to respond appropriately.
"Things will be different starting from the next game now that I'm here."
"Yeees... Let's hurry!"
We arrived at her place—well, our place—in her car.
Even though I'd only stayed here for a single day, it somehow felt like I was finally coming home.
Having bounced around teams and dealt with all sorts of jealousy and sabotage, I'd gotten pretty good at adapting to uncomfortable situations.
Still, to already feel like I was returning home...
My adaptability probably helped, but Camila's care and effort must've played a huge part.
Seeing her so down about the team's loss today only fueled my motivation even more.
"Camila, is it okay if I join training starting tomorrow?"
"Huh? Don't you need time to adjust to the jet lag?"
"I've been resting nonstop lately—do I really need more? I'll jump into training tomorrow. My body's aching so much that resting more would just be torture."
In truth, saying rest was torture was a bit of an exaggeration, but I definitely needed training.
This body might be that of a 20-year-old pro, but until just a few days ago, my mind belonged to a jobless drunkard.
I wanted to get into training as soon as possible to regain my feel for the game.
Above all, I wanted to kick a ball.
I yearned to tear across the pitch in this perfect body I'd missed so much.
And in this life, I could finally play the way I wanted. The anticipation was building.
"I'll let the club know, so just come with me tomorrow! Get some good rest tonight!"
"Thanks, Camila."
"It's my job..."
I headed straight to my room to rest.
I'd thought I was bored of all the lounging lately, but now that proper training loomed tomorrow, I suddenly wanted to rest more.
...
After three hours of browsing the community forums in bed, I finally drifted off to sleep.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Fighting, Si-eon!"
"You too, Camila."
I arrived at the training ground in Camila's car and headed straight inside without delay.
"You're here."
I exchanged greetings with Manager Martin Leo.
"Yes. Just leave everything to me from now on."
"Haha, if you deliver as much as your confidence suggests, we'll not only promote this season—we'll win it all."
The manager seemed to like me, but in the end, it all came down to proving it on the pitch.
Of course, he probably wasn't expecting me to transform the team overnight.
I was starting to look forward to his reaction once he saw my performances ahead. His calm, unflappable responses to my bold claims only made me want to blow him away.
"Follow me."
The place Martin Leo led me to was where the entire Espanyol squad had gathered.
"You've all heard about our new addition. Introduce yourself."
"Glad to meet you all. I'm Lee Si-eon from Korea. Looking forward to working together."
The welcome was warmer than I'd expected.
Thank goodness—the team atmosphere, which I'd worried most about, seemed pretty solid.
The current squad could be divided into three main groups.
The first were the original members who'd been playing for Espanyol before relegation.
These were the romantics who'd stayed loyal despite the drop, refusing to abandon the club.
Normally, a relegated team's best talents all leave.
You might worry that the ones left behind had no other offers and stayed out of necessity, but that wasn't the case at all.
Especially Espanyol's current captain, Paul Hernandez. Despite interest from countless big clubs, he'd firmly chosen to stay.
At 33, he wasn't young anymore, but his skills were still in their prime—one of the top center-backs anyone talked about in La Liga.
Even after Espanyol got relegated to the second division.
Anyway, most of this group formed the leadership core and the veterans.
The second group consisted of youth players hastily called up when the team imploded after relegation.
For them, it might've been the opportunity of a lifetime.
The dream scenario would've been immediate promotion back to the first division as starters, but that had already fallen through.
Still, even if promotion came this season or next—or even if they stayed in the second division—gaining experience at a club like Espanyol was a golden chance every moment for these academy kids.
Despite the rushed call-ups, they were Espanyol youth products, and quite a few stuck out in my memory more than I'd thought.
The knowledge from my past life would be a huge help in not just adapting to the squad, but dominating it.
Finally, the third group was the one I naturally fell into: new signings brought in after relegation, from the perspective of a second-division club.
All of them had just over a year of tenure at most.
They were on the same rookie level as me—no injustice there.
And surprisingly, among them, the players who stuck in my memory...
None.
I'd half-expected it, but I'd held a sliver of hope.
Maybe one or two? Nope—shattered instantly.
After relegation, Espanyol failed to realistically assess their market position.
As a result, first-division-caliber talents slipped away because they couldn't meet demands, while decent second-division prospects got snapped up by other clubs during the time wasted.
What remained were players no one else wanted or those with overly greedy contract terms.
In a relegated club's position, they should've recognized their reality and focused their efforts—but they didn't.
Hence, a bunch of middling players.
Just barely scraping by in the second division.
Even they were pretty lucky, though.
Thanks to the club's desperation, they were getting better treatment than they deserved.
And regardless of their performances, a solid career boost was coming their way.
As I finished introductions and sized up the squad, the players had already dispersed for individual training.
Back to the usual training ground scene, when team captain Paul Hernandez approached me.
"Nice to meet you. Si-eon? Tricky name to pronounce. I'm the team captain and center-back, Paul Hernandez."
"Nice to meet you, Captain. Of course I know you—how could anyone not know Espanyol's Wall?"
Realistically, expecting everyone to nail my name was a stretch.
"Just call me Sean. Sean."
"Sean? Hmm... Alright. Looking forward to it."
I shook his outstretched hand and immediately started warming up.
The players were off in their individual sessions tailored to their needs.
I hadn't gotten any official training directives from the club yet, and anyway, I knew better than anyone what I needed right now—so I ignored it and loosened up.
The training to maximize my current abilities?
Simply playing with the ball.
Training should be systematic with clear goals, sure—but my situation was a bit special.
This body had been honed through constant soccer, but my mind hadn't.
In short, there was a huge disconnect between the physical capabilities this body could unleash and the sensations I felt and reacted to.
Time would sort it out eventually, but I had no reason or luxury to wait idly.
Espanyol's situation made it feel like time was against us.
They were currently sixth in the standings.
The gap to first was seven points—catchable with games left.
Thud... roll...
If only this damn disconnect would vanish.
Messing up a simple lift showed how slightly off everything felt.
And in soccer, those little things could snowball.
So my plan: train hard to adapt the body ASAP, and in matches, leverage the veteran savvy from my past life atop this flesh to dominate.
It was guaranteed to work.
No matter how unfamiliar the body felt, it was mine.
If I planned to whine about barely scraping by in the second division, I never would've started soccer again.
My goal remained the same: win the league and promote this season.
"Hey, buddy, your ball control's pretty rough, huh? Isn't it a bit early for pro debut?"
Suddenly, a player approached with a snide jab.
Who was this guy again?
No memory of him meant third-group scrub.
"What, you don't even understand Spanish?"
I didn't respond right away while racking my brain, so he doubled down, assuming I was cowed.
"Alright, everyone gather up! We're doing a scrimmage today."
Perfect timing—Martin Leo's call rang out.
And the content? Music to my ears.