Chapter 66: Is This Really a Diplomatic Delegation? (3)
Chapter 66: Is This Really a Diplomatic Delegation? (3)
(66/225)
“Oh, I thought it’d be soft, but it’s springier than I expected?”
Geshtain tapped the soccer ball he was seeing for the first time with the tip of his foot.
“Alright then, let’s try—whoa!”
He tried to volley the ball after it bounced off the ground, but his right foot cut through empty air and he fell flat on his back. He got up and tried again, but this time he pitched forward onto the ground.
For a dwarf whose legs were inevitably short, pulling off flashy kicks like the players on TV was impossible right now.
“This is easier than I thought, but the other stuff is tricky.”
Instead, he was surprisingly skilled at popping the ball up with his head, again and again.
“Hey! Let me kick it too!”
“No, me first!”
The dwarves who couldn’t be satisfied with just watching soccer piled in and started bickering over a single ball.
In the end, the conflict only ended after three more soccer balls were brought out.
“Alright! I’m kicking it high!”
The dwarves split into four groups and started playing with one ball each.
With all their beards and their weathered looks by human standards, it felt exactly like a weekend amateur soccer club.
Of course, their skill level—just starting out—was about elementary school level, but their enthusiasm was blazing.
Their faces were flushed red, but Jinseo could tell the cause lay elsewhere.
“Everyone looks pretty drunk. Are you sure this is okay?”
Geshtain laughed it off.
“If I got drunk from this much, I’d have to stop being a dwarf.”
In response to Jinseo’s concern, he picked up the beer mug on the table that was still half full and drained it in one go.
“Drinking after moving around feels even cooler!”
“They say drinking after morning amateur soccer hits different,” Hayward said from the side.
“Morning amateur soccer?” Geshtain echoed, intrigued.
Jinseo started explaining again, and in the meantime, even the humans joined the dwarves’ ball game. It just looked too fun to sit and watch from the table.
“Soccer from the morning on your day off—humans really must love soccer,” Geshtain said. “In that case, we want to split into teams and play like they did on TV. Can you help? We don’t know any rules and that sort of thing.”
“Then first…”
Jinseo scanned the area.
The flat central plaza, with no decorations, was more than enough to play soccer. It was a shame it wasn’t grass, but at least it was dirt rather than stone.
“We need a field. If we draw lines on the plaza floor, that should do it. Then… for goals, we can just put two stones down on each side, roughly.”
“Goals?” Geshtain tilted his head. “Ah, you mean the metal bars to anchor the net? Hey! Everyone, come here!”
At Geshtain’s shout, the dwarves who were playing rushed over.
“So to play soccer properly, we need something called a goal, right?”
“Do we build it to human size? That’s too tall for us!”
“The structure’s simple. Why not just make it now?” Geshtain turned sharply. “Kohel! You’ve got spare metal at the forge, right?”
“The only metal we’ve got lying around right now is Adatium.”
“Then we’ll use that. Kids! Let’s get to work!”
The dwarf called Kohel waved the other blacksmiths over.
But the moment the delegation’s knights heard the word “Adatium,” their eyes changed.
It was a rare metal on the Francia Continent, a material used for so-called famed swords—which meant it was inevitably expensive.
“…You’re making goalposts out of that?”
Craid, unusually, stared wide-eyed at the dwarves sprinting toward the forge.
It was the exact same expression he’d made when, during their brief stay in Korea, he’d watched Hayward pour sauce over his tangsuyuk without hesitation.
While the blacksmith dwarves went off to make Adatium goalposts, Jinseo brought out a large stack of T-shirts with the same design.
“Alright. People wearing the same color are on the same team.”
The dwarves, split into red and black T-shirts, followed Jinseo’s instructions and lined up on the left and right.
But since they were so short, the shirts turned into accidental one-piece dresses on them.
While Adatium that should have been used to forge famed swords was being turned into goalposts, Jinseo drilled the dwarves on the basics.
“I said no touching the ball with your hands and arms, right?”
“Yes. Mostly feet and heads.”
Two dwarves who had heard Jinseo’s explanation glared at each other with the ball between them. They mimicked what they’d seen on TV, throwing their bodies around as if starting a physical contest.
Thud!
“That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to punch your opponent!”
“Huh? Really?”
Not only the one who hit, but even the one who got hit gestured as if to say, What’s the problem?
“But I saw them do it on that TV thing.”
“That’s a foul…” Jinseo muttered.
He held back the pounding headache and explained the rough rules again.
In the meantime, other dwarves drew lines on the plaza just as Jinseo had taught, and at the same time, two Adatium goalposts were completed. Everything was ready.
“May we join this game called soccer as well?”
A few knights from the delegation who hadn’t been drinking joined in late, and eventually even Craid and Hayward participated.
Oddly, the knights volunteered as goalkeepers and defenders, and it didn’t take long to see why.
“So this is a goal made of Adatium…”
“Look at this subtle sheen…”
“If even a handful of this had gone into my sword, I could die without regret.”
“I—I’m touching it too!”
Watching the knights cling to the goalposts with dreamy expressions, Jinseo let out a sigh.
If he left them alone, it was obvious they wouldn’t care whether goals went in or not. They’d just keep stroking the goalposts.
“Alright! Everyone, focus!”
Jinseo used hand gestures and footwork to send all twenty-two players to their positions.
“When I blow this, you start by kicking the ball.”
“Understood.”
Standing at the center of the makeshift field for kickoff, Craid stared down at the ball with a serious face.
Tweet!
The moment Jinseo blew the whistle, Craid drew his right leg back and kicked the ball with full force.
Bang!
“…Uh…”
His aim was straight at the opposing goal, but his overwhelming strength sent the ball soaring far over the goalposts, climbing until it nearly reached the ceiling dozens of meters above.
It kept flying until it literally became a “star in the sky” and disappeared from everyone’s view.
Only then did Jinseo realize he should have seen it coming, considering Craid’s strength.
And honestly, it was more amazing that the ball hadn’t burst.
“Whoops. That strength is something else,” Geshtain said, shading his brow as he stared after it.
“But if that happens, can we not play soccer anymore?”
“Luckily, we have a few more balls.”
Jinseo brought out a new ball and placed it in the center of the makeshift field.
“But Craid… you know, right?”
“…I understand.”
Craid clamped his mouth shut and stepped back. He was substituted out for another dwarf.
Soccer was far too small a vessel to contain his overflowing power.
Tweet!
With the whistle, the match resumed.
“Yahhh!”
“Hey! Your foot’s too high!”
“But that’s what they did on TV!”
“Here! Pass it here!”
“Isn’t the goalkeeper supposed to be in front of the goal? Why are you over here?”
They had heard the concept of positions, but the moment the game started, the dwarves forgot everything.
They clumped together into chaos, swarming wherever the ball was, turning it into a brawl disguised as a scrum. Jinseo had to blow the whistle repeatedly just to keep things from completely falling apart.
Still, as time passed, they gradually started finding their positions, and the match slowly became more normal.
“Nero! The ball!”
“Meow!”
Even when the ball went out of bounds, Nero and Owl acted as “ball boys,” keeping the flow from stopping and letting play resume quickly.
“It looks fun.”
Craid sat at the food truck’s counter seat and watched everyone run around.
He picked at the bunsik Jinseo had put out beforehand—uncharacteristically nibbling at it—with pure gloom on his face.
“I want to run…”
Craid.
He became the first player ever substituted out in an otherworld soccer match.
Along with the record for fastest substitution.
“Ah, damn it!”
Around thirty minutes into the match, Hayward could no longer withstand the dwarves’ rough tackles and body checks and kept rolling across the ground.
By modern soccer standards, fouls were happening constantly, but aside from the early phase, Jinseo rarely blew the whistle.
It wasn’t an official match, and he wasn’t in a position to cheer for either side. More importantly, he didn’t want to break the flow.
Besides, dwarves with sturdy bodies shrugged off fouls and kept playing, so there were no injuries.
Which meant the biggest victim ended up being Hayward.
“Ah! Again!”
Shoulder-charged by a dwarf far smaller than him and sent flying, Hayward clenched his teeth.
He had a strong body too, so he wasn’t hurt, but getting pushed around like that over and over again had bruised his pride long ago.
“I can’t live like this! Jinseo! Give me that!”
“That?”
“That, I’m telling you!”
Hayward mimed cracking open a can of Red X with both hands.
“If you drink that, you’ll be stuck with insomnia all day again,” Jinseo warned.
“Winning this match is what matters!”
A man has a fight he can’t back down from.
Seeing Hayward’s determined expression, Jinseo recalled the announcer line that kicked off an arcade fighting game tournament in Daejeon.
“If you complain later, I’m not responsible.”
With a resigned expression, Jinseo tossed him the Red X.
Gulp, gulp.
“Been a while. This taste…”
After savoring it for a moment, Hayward dropped the can and clenched his fist hard.
“Hey! Move! Out of my way!”
“Move? Me?”
He neatly stole the ball from a dwarf on the opposing team who tried to muscle through him the same way they had earlier.
“Hahaha! That’s it! That’s what I’m talking about!”
He sprinted forward with the ball, weaving between opposing players charging at him.
No matter how strong they were, as long as he dodged with speed, they couldn’t touch him.
Unable to keep up with Hayward’s overwhelming pace, the opposing team ended up in a ridiculous formation, trailing after him in a line.
“Wow, you’re really good. Like Ho—”
Jinseo almost said the name of a famous Portuguese football player, then snapped his mouth shut.
“Yeah. Like Me—.”
He went with a safe choice that most Koreans would agree with.
Splat.
“Goal! It’s a goal!”
Hayward finally scored and threw his arms up in celebration.
The dwarves on his team tried to hug him, but because of the height difference, they ended up grabbing his legs instead and cheering.
“Well, if he’s happy, I guess it’s fine.”
Jinseo watched Hayward enjoying soccer while resorting to the brutal prescription of coffee doping, looking like he had no choice.
“But isn’t that… doping?”
“Ugh, a goal…”
Hayward, who had sacrificed sleep for victory, pressed his left hand to his forehead and groaned.
The backlash from the coffee doping was far worse than before.
It wasn’t enough that he was suffering from a hangover—he hadn’t slept for a full day.
He only came back to his senses after waking up and eating the bean sprout ramen Jinseo personally cooked.
“Ugh… those guys are monsters. How can they be fine after drinking that much?”
“Hahaha…”
Jinseo wanted to point out that Hayward had basically brought it on himself, but he just laughed and held his tongue.
“Hahaha! We lost at soccer, but there’s no way we can lose to another race when it comes to drinking!”
“Yeah! That’s our dwarf identity!”
The dwarves sitting beside him roared with laughter and started their morning with bunsik.
“Throw that identity away already… Anyway, it’s true you lost to me, right? Winning is all that matters!”
Thanks to his performance—ten goals and seven assists—the first soccer match in this other world ended with Hayward’s side winning, 20 to 15.
And there was another standout player—none other than Duke Layton.
When Layton subbed in as a substitute, the opposing dwarves tried to stop him with the same tackles they’d been throwing around all game.
But once word spread among the players that he was the representative of the delegation, the mood flipped instantly.
That guy’s the highest-ranking one in the delegation, right? A duke or something?
A duke? How high is that?
About our lord’s level?
No—maybe even higher.
No matter how boisterous and informal dwarves were, they couldn’t cause an incident that might turn into a diplomatic dispute.
So every time Layton awkwardly dribbled the ball forward, the opposing dwarves would throw themselves sideways and collapse before he even touched them.
Jinseo never expected to see the “division commander miracle” from army soccer again.
And in an otherworld, of all places.
When Layton, short on stamina, scored only three goals and got substituted out, the match returned to its original state—
a bizarre situation full of rough tackles and body checks, yet with not a single injury.