Let's Go, to Europe (1)
I rushed back to my room without even washing up. Then I grabbed my phone and listened to languages from every country on NewTube, interpreting them all. Not a single one was missed—every word automatically translated into Korean in my head. The words I wanted to speak aloud worked the same way.
“Whoa….”
This was just as astonishing as becoming huge down there or gaining those miraculous soccer skills. Maybe because it was such an unexpected gift, the fluster outweighed the gratitude. With all this luck piling up nonstop, I even started worrying if I'd keel over from it for real.
“No. Don't even think such unlucky crap.”
I shook my head hard. Then I turned off the phone, caught my breath, and started mapping out how I'd live the rest of my life.
“Goal's overseas. No change there.”
Using the soccer skills the goblin passed down just in the K League? That'd be straight-up criminal negligence. If I could recreate those dream plays on the pitch, I'd conquer Europe and etch my name in soccer history.
Truth was, I desperately wanted to head abroad right now, but I had to shelve it. Forget the hurdles of joining a European pro club—language barriers were massive.
Of course, you can't master foreign languages overnight, but my plan was to prove my skills fast in Korea, boost my status enough to get an interpreter, then throw down the gauntlet in Europe.
Right now, the best European club I could land was barely semi-pro level.
Not a skill issue. Opportunities only come to the prepared. Getting a shot at a pro club in Europe after a year and getting dumped from K League 2's last-place team? Cold reality said it was damn tough.
But.
“Biggest headache's gone now, right?”
The language barrier had crumbled. Not just one or two—all of them, completely.
Tested on NewTube: I could speak, hear, read, and write pretty much any major language no problem.
“That senior was right. Language barrier's bigger than you think—if you're going to Europe, at least study English ahead of time.”
But for me now? Not an issue anymore.
“Yeah. Honestly, no reason to stick around Korea with this talent.”
No need to rush. A pearl doesn't lose its shine buried in mud. I'd start low, but I'd smash through pro walls soon enough.
As long as I didn't slack on soccer, coast on the goblin's gift, and kept grinding with consistency and grit.
Obviously, I was ready to bleed for it. No way I'd piss away this chance over some weak bullshit.
Not like I'm an idiot.
“Living expenses, though….”
My year in a Korean pro club would at least bridge me to trials. But like semi-pro reality, the pay barely covers survival. Visa issues too.
Unless a European club scouts and sponsors me, I'd have to handle room and board myself.
But I didn't sweat this one much.
“Hit up Aunt!”
Born with some bad luck, sure—but just as much good luck too.
...Though that bad luck's all gone now anyway.
Riiiing!
The call connected quick.
“Hello?”
“Aunt! It's Tae-oh.”
“Oh! Hey, Tae-oh! What's up, calling first thing in the morning? Wait—no, it's like 3 p.m. in Korea, right?”
“Yeah, spot on. You doing well?”
“Psh, yeah. Our handsome nephew, call more often. Come visit Madrid sometime. Pretty girls everywhere—if you're there, they'll swoon. K-pop's blowing up here too.”
Aunt lived in Spain's capital, Madrid. Her husband was Spanish; after marrying in Korea and living there a few years, they'd moved and now ran a fusion Korean restaurant. Both chefs, so business was solid—or so Mom mentioned once.
Might not need extra staff, but for a desperate nephew? She'd make room.
“Nephew didn't call just to check up... What's the deal? You're a pro now, no pocket money needed... Wait, coming to Madrid for fun?”
I dropped my voice a bit. “Uh... got released. Fired.”
“Fired? From the team? Why? Didn't you just join this year?”
“Yeah... it happened. Haha.”
“Aigoo... your mom's gonna worry... Oh right, haven't called her yet. Man, what a filial fail.”
Call Mom right after this.
“It's fine. Since it went down like this, I'm gearing up for a new challenge.”
“Challenge?”
“Yeah. Not sure about pro success anymore... but I love soccer, wanna stay in the game somehow.”
“Hm... so?”
“Prepping for soccer study abroad.”
Aunt finally clocked why I called.
“To Spain?”
“Yeah. Can you help me out, Aunt?”
“'Course! Whose kid are you? Plus, our nephew's a looker. Serving here? Customers'll flock. Win for me.”
Positive reaction. But.
“Gotta speak the language to work here, though. Even if you're my nephew, can't hire someone with zero Spanish. This restaurant's our livelihood. You get it?”
“Totally.”
“Study Spanish first. I'll send cash for language school. Keep it secret from Mom. Account number?”
I hesitated, then eased in. “Actually... I know some Spanish.”
“Huh?”
“No, I'm good. For real. Picked up some in uni, and we had South American mercs on the club.”
Lies birthing more lies—feeling it all day. But what choice? Spill the truth, she'd think I'm nuts.
“For real?”
“Yeah. Plenty for server work.”
“Alright, test time?”
“Hit me.”
I heard her take a breath through the speaker. I inhaled deep too, treating it like the real deal.
“Good evening! How many in your party?”
A split-second pause—Aunt sounded startled, even over the line.
“Hello, table for two.”
“Right this way, please follow me.”
I let the words flow naturally, straight from my head.
“Excuse me, the menu please?”
“Of course.”
“Could you recommend a dish?”
I paused a beat. Then it hit me—that menu from years ago, Madrid trip with parents, at Aunt's spot.
“Our specialty's the beef steak with kimchi sauce.”
Felt like Aunt chuckled, pleased.
“Sounds delicious—we'll take the beef steak.”
“I'll bring your order right away. Anything else?”
“No, that's all for now. Thank you.”
“No problem—your order's coming shortly.”
Scene wrapped. I waited quietly.
“Aunt's about to faint from shock right now.”
No more Spanish. I grinned. “Pass?”
“No question. Total pass. Wait, how long you been studying Spanish?”
“Couple... years maybe. Figured I might play in Spain someday... haha.”
Dodged.
“Just Spanish?”
“Nah, English too.”
“Whoa! Nephew's a total stud?”
Praise poured in.
“Pronunciation, quick thinking, phrasing—all perfect. No issue handling customers.”
“Whew, relief.”
“Just get your butt here. I'll handle the rest.”
Smile crept across my face. Done. Now just open Act 1 of my real soccer life.
“But Tae-oh.”
“Yeah, Aunt.”
“You talked it over with your mom—my sister—first, right?”
...Ah, one last hurdle left.